Chapter Four: Confusion

Alliyah Agustin-Astley

After he left, I sat alone in the vast dining hall, the untouched breakfast before me growing cold. Every bite I forced down tasted like confusion and defeat.

The maids moved quietly around me, careful not to meet my eyes. They bowed, offered faint smiles, and disappeared as swiftly as they came. Every movement felt mechanical, rehearsed — as though they’d all been told exactly how to treat me.

I spent most of the morning wandering through the mansion, desperate to understand the man I was now bound to.

Everything was sleek, modern, and impersonal — black marble, glass, steel, and silence. There were no personal photos, no warmth, no trace of human softness. 

Even the sunlight that poured through the wide windows felt muted, as if it were swallowed by the cold luxury surrounding me.

My fingers brushed against the grand piano in one of the sitting rooms — dustless, perfectly polished, untouched.

Does he even play? Or does he just own things to fill the silence?

I wanted to hate him. I really did. But my mind kept circling back to one question that gnawed at my chest: Why? Why would Chester — or even Kassandrah — sell me to this man?

And how did Chester even have that kind of power over my life? Was all of it — every kiss, every promise — a lie?

By noon, one of the staff — a middle-aged woman named Clara — found me in the library. It was the only place that didn’t feel suffocating, and I’d already decided it would be my sanctuary inside this gilded cage.

“Madam,” she said softly, bowing her head. “Mr. Astley asked me to give you this.”

She handed me a sleek black folder. My name was embossed in gold across the cover. I hesitated before opening it — and nearly dropped it the moment I did.

Inside were my business documents. My pride. My entire life’s work.

Except now… every signature, every authorization, every line of ownership bore a single name — Alexander Nicholas Astley.

My throat went dry. “Did he—did he buy this?” I stammered, my voice trembling.

Clara’s polite smile faltered. “I believe, Madam, he arranged the transfer. Everything has been moved under the Astley Group.”

“Moved?” I echoed bitterly, flipping through the pages. “You mean taken.”

Clara didn’t answer. She only bowed again and murmured, “He instructed me to tell you that your business operations will continue as normal. Your staff will remain. Your office will stay untouched. Only the ownership has changed.”

My head spun. The words didn’t make sense anymore. I had been sold, married, and now even my success had his name stamped over it like a brand.

“C-Can you please leave me alone to think?” I asked, my voice breaking.

She nodded and left quietly.

The hours that followed dragged on. I wandered from room to room, the weight of everything I’d lost pressing down on me. The maids offered to show me the garden, the pool, the private lounge — but I declined. I didn’t want to admire the gilded bars of my prison.

When evening came, I found myself on the balcony outside my bedroom, the city glittering below — far, distant, unreachable. 

Somewhere out there, Chester and Kassandrah were living freely… while I was trapped in the life they sold me into.

I didn’t know what to believe anymore. A part of me wanted to defend Chester, to believe that he couldn’t have done this. That there was a reason. That maybe, somehow, I wasn’t disposable to him.

“Mrs. Astley,” a voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to see a butler standing at the door. “Dinner is served. Mr. Astley requests your presence.”

I exhaled sharply. “I’ll be there.”

Dinner was quieter than breakfast. He was already seated when I arrived — dressed in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up again, his posture as relaxed as it was commanding. His eyes flicked up briefly, acknowledging me before returning to the glass of red wine in his hand.

I took my seat opposite him, trying not to let the silence suffocate me.

“Did you manage to get some sleep?” he asked, his tone casual, smooth, unreadable.

“Not really,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on my plate. “Your mansion isn’t exactly comforting.”

He hummed — not agreeing, not denying. “You’ll get used to it.”

Then, setting his glass down, he leaned back, watching me carefully. “I had your business transferred under my name,” he said simply.

I stiffened. “I know. You had your maid deliver the papers.”

“I kept your staff,” he continued, ignoring my tone. “No one will be fired. Your manager will continue running day-to-day operations.”

“Why?” I demanded, my voice rising. “Why would you transfer my business under your group? I built that from the ground up — it’s mine!”

His gaze sharpened. “I didn’t take it to steal from you. I took it to protect you from what’s coming.”

I frowned. “Protect me from what exactly?”

He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. Then a faint, unreadable smile tugged at his lips. “You’ll understand soon enough,” he said quietly, standing from his chair. “For now… enjoy dinner.”

I clenched my fists under the table. “I won’t believe Chester sold me unless you show me proof. I want to see them — both of them — and ask them myself.”

Alexander’s brows arched, intrigued. “Hm. And if I agree to that, will you finally start adapting to this estate?”

“Yes,” I said firmly, meeting his gaze.

He stared at me for a while before smirking. It seems like he wanted the idea. “Unfortunately,” he murmured, swirling his wine once more, “that isn’t possible right now.”

My heart sank — until his next words came, low and deliberate. “Although… it might be soon.”

I looked up at him, startled. Hope flickered weakly in my chest.

“I have an event to attend this Saturday,” he continued. “All the important guests will be there — including those two.”

My breath hitched. How important are those two? From what I remember, Chester and Kassandrah owned a small business and supported mine more.

“You can come with me,” he said, his voice smooth but dangerous, “but you’ll follow my rules, every single one of them."