The car stopped in front of the Hale residence.
Lina lifted her head slowly and stared through the window. The iron gates were tall and black, stretching endlessly on both sides. Beyond them stood a massive mansion, quiet and imposing, like a silent guardian watching over secrets it would never reveal.
Her heart clenched.
This was her husband's house.
No-Amara's husband's house.
The driver stepped out and opened the door for her. "Madam Hale," he said respectfully.
Madam Hale.
The title felt too heavy, too unreal.
Lina forced herself to step out of the car. Her legs felt weak as her heels touched the ground. The gates closed behind her with a loud metallic sound, sealing her inside.
She inhaled slowly.
There was no turning back now.
The front doors opened, and several servants stood in a neat line. At the front was a woman in her late forties, her posture straight and her expression calm.
"Welcome home, Madam," the woman said. "I am Mrs. Grant, the head housekeeper."
Home.
Lina's fingers tightened around her handbag.
"Thank you," she replied softly.
Mrs. Grant gestured toward the inside. "Mr. Hale has already left for work. He asked us to make sure you are comfortable."
Lina paused.
"He's not here?" she asked, unable to hide the relief in her voice.
"No, Madam."
A strange mix of emotions washed over her-relief, disappointment, and fear all tangled together.
She nodded. "I understand."
The servants stepped aside, and Lina walked in.
The house was... enormous.
Marble floors stretched endlessly beneath her feet. Chandeliers hung from high ceilings, sparkling under soft golden lights. Every piece of furniture looked expensive, carefully placed, untouched.
And yet, the house felt cold.
Too quiet.
Too perfect.
"This way, Madam," Mrs. Grant said gently.
Lina followed her through long corridors. Her footsteps echoed loudly, making her feel small and out of place. She could feel the eyes of the staff on her back, curious but respectful.
They stopped in front of a large living room.
"This is the main sitting area. Mr. Hale usually spends his evenings here when he is home," Mrs. Grant explained.
Lina glanced around.
No personal touches.
No photos.
No warmth.
Just space.
"So... big," Lina murmured.
Mrs. Grant smiled faintly. "Mr. Hale values privacy."
That much was obvious.
They continued the tour-dining room, study, guest rooms, indoor gym. Lina listened quietly, nodding at the right moments, but her mind felt distant.
None of this felt real.
Finally, they reached the master bedroom.
Mrs. Grant pushed the door open.
"This is your room, Madam."
Lina froze.
The room was larger than her entire apartment back at the café. A king-sized bed sat at the center, covered in dark gray sheets. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the city skyline, glowing faintly in the daylight.
Her heart beat faster.
"And Mr. Hale's room?" she asked hesitantly.
Mrs. Grant paused for a brief moment before answering. "This is also his room, Madam."
Lina nodded slowly. "I see."
Mrs. Grant bowed slightly. "If you need anything, please call. Dinner will be served at seven."
She left the room quietly, closing the door behind her.
The silence returned instantly.
Lina stood alone.
She slowly placed her handbag on the table and walked further inside. Each step felt cautious, as if the room might reject her presence.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
It was soft.
Too soft.
She pressed her palms against the mattress and stared at the empty space beside her.
Dominic's side.
Her husband's side.
A man she barely knew.
A man who believed she was someone else.
Her chest tightened, and she quickly stood up again, unable to stay there any longer.
She wandered toward the wardrobe and opened it.
Neatly arranged suits. Shirts in dark colors. Expensive watches. Everything was organized, clean, untouched.
No signs of a woman.
No signs of intimacy.
She didn't know whether to feel relieved or sad.
"Get a grip, Lina," she whispered to herself.
She changed into a simple dress and went downstairs for lunch. The table was long, meant for many people, but only one seat was prepared.
She ate slowly, barely tasting the food.
Every bite reminded her of how far she was from her old life.
No more café shifts.
No more shared apartments.
No more struggling to survive.
But was this better?
After lunch, Lina wandered through the house alone. The servants kept their distance, giving her privacy. She appreciated that.
She stopped in front of a large window and stared outside.
The city looked so small from here.
Somewhere out there, Amara was free.
The thought stung.
Lina hugged herself.
"She's happy," she whispered. "She has to be."
Otherwise, this sacrifice would mean nothing.
Time passed slowly.
The house remained silent.
At six thirty, she returned to the bedroom and sat on the bed again, staring at the door.
Would he come home soon?
What would she say?
How would she act?
At exactly seven, dinner was served.
Dominic still hadn't returned.
By eight, the house was quiet again.
Then her phone buzzed.
Lina's heart jumped.
She grabbed it quickly.
A message.
Dominic:
I won't be home tonight. Emergency meeting abroad. I'll be back tomorrow evening.
She read it twice.
So he wouldn't be coming.
Relief flooded her chest, followed by an unexpected emptiness.
She typed carefully.
Lina:
Alright. Safe travels.
There was a pause.
Then another message appeared.
Dominic:
Make yourself comfortable. This is your home now. Good night, Amara.
Her fingers trembled.
Your home now.
She locked the phone and placed it on the table.
That night, Lina lay alone on the massive bed. The other side was untouched, cold.
She stared at the ceiling.
The house was too quiet.
Too big.
Too lonely.
She turned onto her side and pulled the blanket closer.
"This was supposed to be easy," she whispered.
Just pretend.
Just survive.
But lying alone in a stranger's bed, Lina realized something she hadn't expected-
Being rich did not mean being safe.
And pretending to be someone else did not stop her heart from feeling afraid.
Outside, the city lights shimmered endlessly.
