CHAPTER 10
A Sharp knock startled Lisa awake. Still tangled in sheets, her hair wild and face sleepy, she shuffled to the door, certain it was a maid.
She swung it open – and froze.
Joseph stood there. Immaculate. Composed.
Dark eyes taking in every scattered detail of her.
Her face went crimson. "Ah!" she squeaked, slamming the door shut so fast the wood rattled.
From the hallway came the unmistakable sound of his low chuckle.
Heart pounding, Lisa scrambled, smoothing her hair, throwing on a robe. After several long minutes, she opened the door again, posture stiff and face carefully arranged.
"Good morning, Joseph," she managed.
His eyes lingered on her, amusement flickering. They exchanged brief pleasantries before his tone shifted into that familiar command.
"Get prepared. We're having breakfast with my family. We leave in an hour".
He turned to go, but not before tossing over his shoulder, "Try not to scare them with that hair next time".
Her jaw dropped. By the time the sting of embarrassment turned to flustered warmth, he was gone.
She touched her cheeks. They were hot.
Blushing. At him?
"No, no, no!" she whispered harshly, slamming the door shut and burying her face in her hands.
*******
Breakfast at the Bronson estate began warm, almost deceptively so. Laughter circled the table, dishes passed from hand to hand, and even Lisa managed a smile when Joseph's brother teased her about choosing only the mildest food.
For a moment, she thought she might survive unscathed.
Then Joseph's mother leaned forward, her smile sharpened to a blade.
Tell me, Lisa – how does a girl who once ran from her own family suddenly think she's fit to represent ours?"
The warmth vanished.
She pressed on.
"Do you honestly believe you can carry the Bronson name? Or is it your beauty you plan to rely on, rather than your brains?"
Lisa's throat tightened her fingers trembling beneath the table. Just as she faltered, Joseph's hand slid over hers – firm, steady, grounding her.
But his mother wasn't finished.
"You may wear our name, but don't mistake it for belonging".
Joseph's chair scraped back. His voice was steel.
"This is my wife. You will accord her the respect she deserves. Disrespect her, and you disrespect me....Mother".
Shock rippled through the table. Joseph rose, drawing Lisa to her feet and without another word, led her out of the house.
Behind them, his mother's lips tightened, his siblings stared wide-eyed - yet it was his father's face that told the truest story.
His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched and though he said nothing, the truth was clear: Joseph hadn't married to honor a promise. He married her because she mattered.
______
The drive home was silent. Lisa stared out the window, Joseph's words replaying in her mind – This is my wife.
"You didn't have to do that", she said softly.
His gaze stayed on the road. "I don't allow anyone to disrespect what belongs to me".
Her chest tightened at the word belongs. Was she just his possession, or did his tone mean something more?
Lisa turned away, but the question haunted her all the way back to the mansion.
At the mansion, the staff greeted them with lowered heads. Joseph brushed past, still cold from the dinner, but Lisa lingered in the foyer.
Her fingers traced the edge of the banister as if grounding herself.
"Go upstairs", Joseph said without looking at her. "Rest"
She wanted to argue, to thank him, to question what his words at the table had really meant. But his tone left no room. She obeyed, climbing the stairs slowly, her thoughts tangled.
Hours later, after a brutal day at the office, she came down again, shaken.
Joseph poured Lisa a glass of wine and guided her to a seat beside him at the round table. The closeness unstilled her, but he kept the conversation light, unusually chatty.
Just as she began to relax, he swirled his glass lazily, eyes locked on her.
"You stayed at the office until 8:48 tonight", he said casually, as though remarking on the weather.
Lisa stiffened. "How would you know that?"
His lips curved into a slow, taunting smile.
"Because I pay attention to you".
Her throat went dry, word slipping away. Before she could gather a response, her phone buzzed against the table
She glanced down – an anonymous text glared at her: He can't protect you forever.
Her breath hitched.
Joseph's gaze sharpened instantly, "What's wrong?"
She forced a shaky smile, tucking the phone aside. "Nothing... I just want a nice dinner, that's all".
They ate in silence after that, until the plates were cleared and only the wine remained.
Joseph refilled her glass, watching her with an intensity that made her chest tighten.
As her laughter softened into slurred words, he leaned in, so close she could feel his breath.
"You really shouldn't drink so much, Mrs. Bronson", he murmured, his lips a breath away.
Her heart raced, but before she could react, tears slipped out. "I keep getting these texts...it feels like someone's watching me", she confessed, fumbling for her phone. She showed him the messages, her hands trembling.
Joseph's expression darkened, unreadable.
Minutes later, her eyelids grew heavy. Curling against the chair, she whispered as sleep pulled her under, "It's been happening for weeks..."
Joseph went rigid, his glass pausing mid–air.
