ARIA'S POINT OF VIEW
The silence in the car was thick, almost suffocating. Just the low thrum of the engine filled the space between Mr Damien and me. I was pressed against the door, my hands gripping the damp fabric of my wedding dress, still shaking.
I'd just climbed into a stranger's car. What on earth was I doing? My mind raced. Outside, the city lights smeared into watery streaks across the rain-streaked window. Everything had flipped upside down in just a few hours. Five hours ago, I was giddy about becoming Mrs. Marcus Brooks. Now… I didn’t even know where I was headed.
“We’re almost there,” Damien’s voice cut through the quiet, startling me. I turned to look at him. He was focused on the road, his face impossible to read.
“Where are you taking me?”
“My home,” he replied. I frowned. He finally glanced my way.
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
“And what exactly do you know?” I pressed.
He studied me for a beat.
“I know you value loyalty. I know you stayed true to someone who didn’t deserve it.” His words landed with surprising weight.
“I know your family spent years making you believe you’d always be an afterthought. And,” he continued softly,
“I know that after today, you have nowhere you truly want to go back to.”Tears pricked at my eyes. I hated that he was so right.
“You don’t know everything,” I whispered.
“No,” he agreed, his answer catching me off guard.
“I don’t.” A beat of silence passed.
“But I know enough to recognize an opportunity when I see it.”Opportunity. The word hung in the air, starkly different from love or marriage.
The car slowed before massive black iron gates that swung open with a silent hum. My breath hitched. Beyond them loomed a mansion that defied description. It wasn't just large; it was imposing.
The structure sprawled across acres of manicured grounds, bathed in the soft glow of elegant outdoor lighting reflecting off the wet landscape.
“This is… your house?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
“Our destination,” Damien corrected. The car glided to a halt before a grand entrance. Before I could even process it, a butler appeared as if from nowhere, opening my door.
“Welcome home, Mr. Ashford.”Home. The word felt alien. I stepped out, acutely aware of my ruined dress, feeling utterly out of place. Several maids stood at the entrance, all bowing respectfully to Damien.
He navigated past them smoothly in his wheelchair. One of the staff members turned to me, a gentle smile on her face.
“Mrs........”
“Not yet,” Damien cut in. The room fell quiet. He looked back at me.
“Come inside.”I hesitated, then followed him. The mansion was breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers dripped light from impossibly high ceilings. A sweeping marble staircase dominated the foyer. Priceless-looking paintings adorned the walls. Everything screamed wealth, but it also felt… cold. Nothing about this place felt like a home.
A maid approached cautiously.
“Mr. Ashford, shall I prepare the guest suite?”
“Yes.” She nodded and then turned to me.
“This way, Miss Bennett.”I followed, blinking, then glanced back at Damien.
“You said you had a proposal.”
“I do.”
“I’ll hear it.” His gray eyes met mine.
“But understand this.” I crossed my arms, ready to listen.
“You are free to leave tomorrow morning. I don’t force people into anything. If, after hearing my proposal, you refuse…” He paused.
“I’ll have my driver take you wherever you wish.”I stared at him.
“You’d just let me go?”
“Yes.” No strings, no threats, no pressure. It was, in its own way, more unsettling than any coercion could have been. He gestured towards the staircase.
“Get some rest. You’ve had the worst day of your life. Tomorrow,” he looked directly at me,
“I’ll tell you why I chose you.”A shiver traced its way down my spine. Why *me*? It wasn’t random. It had never been random. The maid cleared her throat politely.
“This way, Miss Bennett.”I gave Damien one last look. He had already turned away, speaking softly to a staff member. As I followed the maid upstairs, a single question echoed relentlessly in my mind: Why me?
The maid stopped outside a beautiful bedroom and opened the door with a smile.
“I’ll have fresh clothes brought to you immediately.”
“Thank you,” I replied. She bowed slightly and left. I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. For the first time all day, I was alone. I slowly pulled off my soaked veil. It slipped through my fingers, landing on the floor. Then my bouquet ribbon. My earrings. Piece by piece, the bride I was supposed to be began to shed. I looked in the mirror.
Streaks of mascara ran down my face. My hair was a tangled mess. My wedding dress was wrinkled and stained. I barely recognized the person staring back at me.
A soft knock broke the spell. “Come in.”
The maid entered, carrying a garment bag.
“Mr. Ashford asked me to bring this for you.” She placed it gently on the bed. Curious, I unzipped it. Inside wasn’t loungewear. It was an elegant black dress, simple, sophisticated, and beautiful. On top of it lay a small cream-colored envelope. My heart started to pound. Carefully, I opened it. A single sentence was written inside:
“Wear this tomorrow… the people who broke you should see the woman they’re about to lose forever.” My fingers tightened around the note. What exactly was Damien Ashford plotting?
