Chapter 3
The master bedroom stretched out around me like something from a dream — or maybe a nightmare.
Warm orange light from the setting sun spilled across the floors and expensive furniture, but luxury was the last thing on my mind. My eyes kept darting to the walls, and that's what turned my blood cold.
Every surface was covered with photos of the same couple. A large framed picture hung directly across from the bed showing a man and a woman locked in a deep, passionate kiss.
On the bedside table sat another one of them smiling on a sunny beach. More photos lined the dresser, the walls, even a small shelf near the window. Hundreds of them.
The woman had radiant blonde hair and a smile so full of life it seemed to fill the room. The man looked at her like she was his whole universe — young, powerful, completely obsessed.
I stepped back, my chest tightening. Who were these people? The man in the photos looked familiar, but I couldn't place him right away.
Was he August Harrington's brother? His father? No…
Confusion mixed with a sharp spike of fear, I swallowed hard and tried to unpack my battered suitcase, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Every time I moved, her eyes from the photos seemed to follow me, happy at first, then colder the longer I stared.
I couldn't breathe properly in here. I needed answers.
I left my half-unpacked bag on the floor and headed downstairs. I found a maid - her nameplate says, Luba, near the grand staircase, wiping down a silver tray with quick, irritated movements.
"Excuse me…?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted.
She stopped and turned, looking at me like I was a dirty footprint on her clean rug.
"What now?"
I twisted my fingers together.
"I think there's been some mistake with the room they gave me. It looks like it already belongs to someone else. Could you maybe move me to a different room? Any room is fine. Even the servant quarters downstairs would work. I don't want to cause trouble."
Luba stared at me for a second, then let out a short, jagged laugh that sent chills down my spine.
"No mistake, Ms. Willow. That's the room the young master chose for you himself. Personally." She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping.
"I don't know what you did to offend him so badly, but I'd say you're doomed. You're exactly where he wants you."
"Luba!" a sharp voice called from the kitchen area.
"The dinner preparations!"
"Coming!" she shouted back. She gave me one final look — part pity, part warning — before hurrying off without another word.
Doomed.
The word stuck in my head like a thorn as I climbed back up the wide marble stairs.
When I reached the master bedroom again, I closed the door behind me and collapsed onto the massive bed.
I stared up at the glittering chandelier, listening to the silence of the mansion.
I was nothing but a paper bride, bought with money and desperation, sleeping in another woman's sacred space surrounded by pictures of a love I could never understand.
I still didn't know who the man in those photos really was. Exhaustion finally crashed over me, pulling me down into a restless sleep.
August Harrington sat in the back of the Maybach, staring out at the passing city lights without really seeing them.
He didn't want to go home tonight. The manor had become a tomb, and now an intruder was sleeping inside it.
On most nights he followed the same ritual. He would return early, lock himself in the master suite, and sit among Winter's portraits for hours.
He would speak to her softly, telling her about his day, about the emptiness she left behind, until the quiet felt almost like her arms around him again. Those moments were the only peace he had left.
But tonight, everything was different. A parasite had invaded his sanctuary.
The air inside the car felt strong with his cold rage.
August leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, but the memories refused to leave him alone.
He could still hear Winter Rose's bright laughter, the way she tilted her head when she argued with him, the way they had grown up together under the eyes of the entire elite circle.
They were supposed to be forever — the golden couple everyone envied.
Until Spring Willow stepped blindly into the street.
One careless girl had destroyed everything. She had stolen Winter's future and left him drowning in a world without light. Every time he thought of her name, fresh fury burned through his veins.
Revenge wasn't a plan anymore. It was the only thing keeping his heart beating.
"Mr. President, we've arrived," Assistant Fanel said carefully from the front. He stepped out and opened the door for August.
August rose from the car with slow movements, like a reaper walking toward his next soul.
The Grand Harrington Manor loomed in front of him, its lights glowing coldly against the night sky.
Inside the grand entrance hall, the entire staff had already lined up in perfect formation, heads bowed low. No one dared meet his eyes.
"Welcome home, Young Master," they murmured in unison. A couple of the younger maids were visibly trembling, sensing the storm rolling off him.
August didn't stop walking. His voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Where is she?"
"In the master bedroom, Young Master," Martha answered quietly, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
"Good." He paused at the bottom of the staircase, loosening his tie with sharp fingers.
"Do not disturb me tonight. No matter what screams you hear. No matter what happens behind those doors. Understood?"
The servants exchanged quick, terrified glances but answered together.
"Yes, Young Master."
