The nights in the Von Grimm mansion were long, and the cold silence stretched endlessly. Tonight was no different. The air was thick with something I couldn't name—a weight that had settled deep in my chest since the wedding.
Leonardo had left the room again. He always left.
I sat on the bed, staring at the velvet curtains framing the massive windows. Outside, the moon hung low over the darkened garden, its pale light spilling across the room in fractured patterns. It felt like the only honest thing in this house—cold, distant, untouchable.
I tightened the shawl around my shoulders, my bare feet brushing the thick rug beneath me. My thoughts were louder than they should have been, racing from one unanswered question to another.
Where did he go at night? Why did he always leave me here, alone, without explanation? What kind of husband disappears into the shadows of his own home?
I was tired of being in the dark.
I slipped out of the room, careful to close the door quietly behind me. The hallways were dimly lit, the soft flicker of sconces casting long shadows on the walls. My steps were slow, hesitant, but my resolve was firm.
I wasn't going to be a silent spectator anymore.
The mansion seemed alive at night, its creaks and groans amplified in the stillness. I passed the portraits lining the halls, their painted faces stern and judgmental, as though they disapproved of my defiance.
My destination was clear: Leonardo's study.
The door was slightly ajar when I reached it, and the faint murmur of voices drifted out. I paused, pressing myself against the wall just outside the doorway.
"I expected nothing less," Leonardo's voice said, low and smooth.
Another voice responded, quieter but familiar. My breath caught in my throat.
Alexander.
I leaned closer, my heart pounding so loudly I was certain they'd hear it.
"She's adjusting," Leonardo said, his tone casual but laced with something sharp. "She knows her place."
"She's my wife, Leo," Alexander's voice shot back, his words clipped and full of tension.
"No," Leonardo said, his voice colder now. "She's my wife. And you'd do well to remember that."
My stomach twisted, a sickening knot of confusion and anger tightening in my chest.
I stepped back, my hands trembling as I struggled to steady myself. The words swirled in my head, a storm of questions I couldn't answer.
I didn't remember how I got back to the room. My feet carried me on instinct, my mind too consumed to register the steps.
Once inside, I sank onto the bed, the weight of what I'd heard pressing down on me like a physical force.
Alexander. Leonardo. Their voices, their words, the cold finality in them—what did it mean?
I stared at my hands, my fingers curling into fists against the soft fabric of my dress. I'd been lied to. Again.
The man I thought I'd married wasn't the man standing beside me at the altar. The man who had walked with me in the garden, who had looked at me with something almost resembling kindness—he wasn't Leonardo at all.
"Why?" I whispered to the empty room, my voice trembling.
Why had Alexander pretended to be his brother? Why had Leonardo taken his place without a word? And why did I feel this sharp, aching betrayal at the thought of Alexander's lies?
The door opened, pulling me from my thoughts.
Leonardo stepped inside, his presence filling the room as always. He closed the door behind him, his movements deliberate, his expression unreadable.
"You're awake," he said simply, his tone devoid of warmth.
"I couldn't sleep," I replied, my voice hollow.
He walked to the fireplace, his back to me as he adjusted the logs. The flames crackled to life, casting long shadows across the room.
"You've been quiet lately," he said, his voice calm but probing. "Is something on your mind?"
I clenched my fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "Why would it matter?"
Leonardo turned, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine. "Everything you think matters, Maria. You're part of this family now. Your silence speaks volumes."
I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as I stepped closer to him. "And what about your silence, Leonardo?" I demanded, my voice trembling with anger. "What are you hiding from me?"
He tilted his head slightly, his smirk faint but cutting. "Careful, Maria. You're treading dangerous ground."
I stared at him, my chest heaving. "Do you enjoy keeping me in the dark? Is it some game to you?"
His expression hardened, the smirk disappearing. "This isn't a game."
"Then tell me the truth!" I shouted, my voice breaking. "Tell me why Alexander pretended to be you. Tell me why I've been lied to since the moment I stepped into your world!"
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Leonardo took a step closer, his presence towering over me, but I didn't back down.
"You'll know what I decide to tell you," he said coldly, his voice sharp as a blade. "And nothing more."
I glared at him, my chest burning with frustration. "You can't keep me like this, Leonardo. Like a pawn in your perfect little game."
"Watch me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but full of menace.
I turned away, tears stinging my eyes as I tried to catch my breath. The walls of the room felt closer, suffocating.
"You'll find," he added, his tone softer now, almost mocking, "that pawns can be quite useful in the right hands."
I didn't respond. I couldn't.
But as he walked out, leaving me alone in the flickering light of the fire, I made a silent promise to myself: I would uncover the truth, no matter what it cost me.