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Chapter 38: The Truth.
publish date:
2026-05-01 05:53:10
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His Father's Bride Chapter 40: Shock.
The garden had always been my refuge. It was the only place where the house felt distant—where the expectations, the whispers, the weight of everything pressing in on me softened, if only slightly. The air was cooler there, the breeze gentle as it moved through the hedges, carrying with it the faint scent of roses and damp earth. I stood near the far path, my fingers brushing absentmindedly against the petals of a bloom I had not truly seen. My thoughts were elsewhere. As always. I heard laughter and I turned to see William and Cora. "Oh Belle," she said, rushing over to me. "William and I were just talking on where we would reside after the wedding." I swallowed hard. I did not think about what would happen after the wedding. How i would survive in the same house as William and his wife. They would have children and he would never know that this child I was carrying was his. "I would think a couple would want some privacy," I said and William cocked an eyebrow at me.
His Father's Bride Chapter 39: Belong to.
9 days passed. 9 days since that night, and yet it lingered in everything. In the silence. In the glances. In the way Lord Rathcliffe no longer seemed entirely unaware of me. We did not speak of it. Not once. There was no mention of that night—no awkward attempt at recollection, no probing questions, no lingering suspicion voiced aloud. It was as though we had both silently agreed to fold it away, to place it somewhere neither of us would dare to reach. And yet… something had changed. Subtly. Unmistakably. He noticed me now. Not in grand gestures or overwhelming attentions, but in small, almost hesitant ways. A pause when I entered a room. A question directed at me during meals. The occasional attempt at conversation—brief, careful, but real. “Did you sleep well?” “The weather has turned colder.” “You should take a shawl.” They were simple things. But they were more than before. And each time, something inside me tightened. Because I knew what he believed. And I knew the tr
His Father's Bride Chapter 38: The Truth.
I sat in my room, hugging my knees tightly to my chest as though I could somehow hold myself together by sheer force.The silence around me felt louder than any noise.Emma had assured me—so calmly, so confidently—that everything would go according to plan. That the servants had been instructed. That Lord Rathcliffe’s cup would never run dry.That he would not remember.But even with all of that… the unease would not leave me.It sat low in my stomach, heavy and unrelenting, twisting tighter the more I tried to ignore it.My conscience, my heart, and my mind all seemed to be pulling me in different directions, each louder than the last.My heart—foolish, stubborn thing that it was—wanted me to run.To find William.To tell him everything.To confess the truth before it became something permanent… something that could never be undone.My conscience whispered quieter, but sharper.Do not lie.Do not deceive a man who has shown you nothing but what little kindness he knows how to give.A
His Father's Bride Chapter 37: Everything lead to ruin.
The sickness woke me before the light had fully broken. It came without warning. I barely had time to sit upright before my body betrayed me, a hand flying to my mouth as I pushed the covers aside in haste. The room tilted faintly as I forced myself to stand, my steps unsteady as I made my way toward the wash basin. I barely made it when the wave overtook me, sudden and violent, leaving me gripping the edge of the table beside me as I tried to steady my breathing between heaving breaths. It passed as quickly as it came. But it left something behind. A weakness. A hollow, trembling exhaustion that settled deep into my limbs. I remained where I was, one hand braced against the cool wood, the other pressed lightly to my stomach as I tried to make sense of it. This had happened before. Once— I had dismissed it. Twice— I had ignored it. But now— A third morning. The thought formed slowly. I witnessed my mother go through this many times. The door opened. "Bel—” Emma stopped short
His Father's Bride Chapter 36: The Request.
Days passed. Not abruptly. Not with any clear beginning or end. But in a slow, measured way that made each one feel both heavy and indistinct all at once. And in all that time—William did not speak to me. Not once. At first, I told myself it was expected. Necessary, even. Had I not been the one to insist upon distance? Had I not drawn that line with careful precision, believing it the only way to restore what had been disrupted? And yet— Knowing that did not make it easier. Because absence, I discovered, had a way of revealing things presence could disguise. It was not the grand moments I missed. Not the intensity. Not the weight of what had passed between us. It was something quieter. Simpler. The conversations that had required no thought. The ease of them. The familiarity. The way he had looked at me when nothing else demanded his attention. Those small things— They lingered far more than I had expected. Far more than I could easily dismiss. I moved through the house as
His Father's Bride Chapter 35: Congratulatory Murmurs.
When I woke— He was gone. At first, I did not understand it. My body remained still beneath the covers, my eyes closed as though I might yet drift back into the fragile quiet I had fallen asleep in. But something felt wrong. Subtly at first. Then unmistakably. Cold. Empty. The warmth that had surrounded me only hours before had vanished entirely. My hand moved before I could stop it, brushing across the space beside me. Nothing. The sheets were cool—undisturbed in a way that told me he had not just risen, but had been gone for some time. My breath caught softly in my chest. And then— Everything returned. The night. The quiet confession. The way he had held me as though nothing else mattered...The way I had let myself believe, if only for a moment, that it might be enough. I opened my eyes slowly.The room looked exactly as it always did. Orderly. Still. Unchanged. And yet— It felt different. As though something had been taken from it. Or perhaps— As though s
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