The morning came quietly, sunlight streaming through the enormous windows of my new bedroom. I woke to the sound of soft knocking on the door. Still groggy, I sat up and pulled the plush comforter closer around me.
"Come in," I called, my voice hoarse. The door opened to reveal a young woman in a neatly pressed uniform, holding a tray laden with breakfast. She stepped inside, bowing her head slightly.
"Good morning, Mrs. Romero," she said with practiced politeness. "Mr. Romero instructed us to ensure you're comfortable. I've brought your breakfast." Mrs. Romero. The name still sounded foreign.
"Thank you…" I paused, realizing I didn't know her name. "Amira," she said with a small smile. "If you need anything at all, I'll be just downstairs." As she placed the tray on the small table by the window, I noticed the spread: fresh fruit, eggs, toast, and coffee. It was almost too perfect, like everything else in this house.
"Amira," I said as she turned to leave. "Did Ryan say if he would be around today?"
"Mr. Romero left early this morning," she replied. "He's at the office, but he mentioned he'd be back for dinner."
"Thank you," I murmured, watching her close the door behind her. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and sat by the window, staring out at the sprawling gardens. The villa was beautiful, yes, but it felt hollow, like a stage set for a life I didn't belong to.
The Empty House
After breakfast, I decided to explore. If I was going to live here, I needed to understand the space. The villa was even larger than it seemed from the outside, with winding hallways, high ceilings, and rooms that seemed endless.
I wandered into a library filled with floor to ceiling shelves of books, a gym with state of the art equipment, and even a private theater. Each space was immaculate and soulless, as though no one ever used them.
Eventually, I found myself in a sunlit room at the back of the villa. The walls were lined with photographs, and for the first time, I saw glimpses of Ryan's life.
There were pictures of him at corporate events, surrounded by people in suits, his expression as stoic as ever. In a few, he stood with an older man who looked strikingly similar to him likely his father. But what caught my eye was a picture of Ryan with a young boy, perhaps eight or nine years old, sitting on his shoulders.
Ryan's face in the photo was softer, almost unrecognizable. He was smiling, laughing even, and the boy's wide grin mirrored his own. Who was the boy? And why did this version of Ryan feel so far removed from the man I had married?
A Surprise Visit
I was still staring at the photo when I heard voices echoing from the main hallway. Curious, I followed the sound, my footsteps light against the polished floor.
In the foyer, I saw a woman standing with Elias. She was strikingly beautiful, with perfectly styled blonde hair, a fitted red dress, and heels that clicked against the marble as she moved. Her presence was commanding, her voice sharp as she spoke.
"I need to see Ryan," she said, her tone impatient.
"I'm afraid Mr. Romero isn't here at the moment," Elias replied with his usual calm. "But I can inform him that you stopped by, Miss Davenport."
Miss Davenport? The name sounded familiar, though I couldn't place it.
The woman turned, her sharp gaze landing on me. For a moment, her expression faltered, her eyes narrowing as though assessin me.
"And who might you be?" she asked, her tone laced with suspicion. I straightened my posture, refusing to let her intimidate me.
"I'm Enisa Romero. Ryan's wife."
The words felt strange on my tongue, but I said them anyway, watching as her expression morphed into something unreadable.
"Wife?" she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. "Well, isn't that… surprising." She gave me a once-over, her lips curving into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm Serena Davenport. Ryan and I go way back."
"Good to know," I said coolly, meeting her gaze. "If you'll excuse me, I was just leaving."
I walked away before she could respond, my heart racing. Something about her presence felt off, like a shadow creeping into the light.
The Evening Return
When Ryan returned that evening, I was waiting for him in the living room, determined to get some answers.
"Who's Serena Davenport?" I asked as soon as he walked in, my voice sharp. He paused, his expression unreadable as he removed his jacket and handed it to Elias. "What did she say to you?"
"Nothing much," I replied. "But she didn't seem too thrilled to hear about our marriage."
Ryan's jaw tightened slightly, the first crack in his otherwise calm exterior. "Serena is… complicated. Stay away from her."
"That's not an answer," I said, stepping closer. "Who is she, Ryan?" He met my gaze, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Someone who no longer matters." With that, he walked past me, leaving me with more questions than answers.