Chapter Two: The Astley Estate

Alliyah Agustin-Astley

The rain hadn’t stopped since the ceremony.

It poured in thick, heavy sheets, tracing paths down the tinted windows as the limousine pulled through a long stretch of forested road. The city lights had long faded behind us, replaced by the dull hum of thunder and the rhythmic beat of rain against the car.

I sat there in silence — my hands trembling in my lap. My thoughts were a blur of disbelief and panic. I was supposed to be on my honeymoon flight by now, not trapped in a car beside the man I don’t know.

He hadn’t spoken a word since the church. And somehow, that silence was louder than anything else.

“Where… where are we going?” I finally asked, my voice small, almost fragile against the rain.

His gaze lifted lazily to meet mine. “Home.”

Home, huh? The word felt like mockery.

The car turned into a long, gated driveway, lined with iron lamps and trimmed hedges that looked too perfect — too guarded. The gates opened automatically, and the moment we entered, I realized the kind of “home” he meant.

It wasn’t a house. It was an estate.

Dark, sprawling, with towering walls and security cameras at every corner. The mansion loomed like a shadow against the night, every window glowing faintly golden. For a second, I thought it looked beautiful — until I saw the guards.

There were at least six of them outside, dressed in black, armed, and standing as still as statues. When the limousine stopped, one of them opened the door, bowing slightly.

“Welcome back, Mr. Astley.”

Alexander stepped out first, his shoes clicking softly against the stone driveway. He turned, waiting for me. I didn’t move. My heart raced painfully fast.

“I’m not going in there,” I said quietly, my voice shaking despite my attempt to sound brave. “Not until I speak to Chester.”

Something flickered in his eyes — not amusement, but a kind of patient disbelief. “You still think he’ll answer your call?”

“I know he will!” I snapped, more out of desperation than courage. “This is insane. I don’t even know you!”

He leaned closer, and for the first time, I saw the sharp cut of his jaw tighten. “You don’t need to know me. You only need to know one thing, Mrs. Astley.”

He said my name slowly, deliberately, as if reminding me that it was already too late. “No one takes what’s mine.”

I froze. It was as if he were trying to intimidate me.

Then, before I could say another word, he gestured to one of the guards. “Escort her inside.”

They didn’t touch me — they didn’t have to. Their presence alone was enough to make my knees weak. 

I stumbled out of the car, my heels sinking into the wet ground, my gown dragging through puddles. The mansion doors opened before I even reached them, revealing a marble foyer that gleamed under chandeliers the size of cars.

It was beautiful — and suffocating. When the guards disappeared, I spun toward Alexander, shaking.

“Give me your phone,” I demanded. “Now.”

He didn’t move.

“Please!” My voice cracked. “I need to call my parents— I need to call Chester— I need to understand what’s happening!”

Without a word, he pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to me. The gesture was almost mocking.

I dialed Chester’s number first. It rang once. Twice. Then straight to voicemail.

“Chester, it’s me. Please, answer. Please, tell me this isn’t real,” I whispered, my hands trembling. I hung up and tried again. Still nothing.

I called my mother next. No answer. My father. Nothing.

By the time I called Kassandrah, my fingers were shaking so hard I could barely press the buttons. She didn’t answer either. But her voicemail did — bright, cheerful, cruel.

“Hey, it’s Kass! Leave a message!”

I hung up before I could cry. My throat burned. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart.

I looked at him, tears brimming in my eyes. “What did you do to them?”

His brows furrowed faintly, as though the question annoyed him. “Nothing. They made their own choice not to speak with you.”

“What does that even mean?” I clenched my fists.

“It means they decided silence is safer,” he said firmly.

It was then that the reality sank in — no one was coming for me. Not Chester. Not my family. Not even my so-called best friend. They had all abandoned me the moment this man revealed himself.

I turned away, clutching my veil, my chest tightening as the tears finally fell. “W-Who the hell are you?”

“Alexander Nicholas Astley,” he nonchalantly stated, “Oh, and your name is Alliyah Agustin-Astley, right?”

I don’t know if I’ll be surprised or horrified that he even knows my name fully.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I didn’t ask to be part of your world. I don’t want to be your wife.”

“You think I wanted this either?” he said, his tone suddenly sharp, though his face stayed calm. “Believe me, sweetheart — I’ve never been the marrying type.”

He stepped closer, his presence dark and overwhelming, but his eyes…there was something unreadable there—something almost human beneath the steel.

“But here we are,” he added quietly, “and whether you like it or not, your life isn’t yours anymore.”

I almost sank into the ground, “B-But why me? Who decided this for me? I could call anyone to arrest whoever did this to me!”

I was about to dial 911, but he took it from my hands.

“Unfortunately, I live in another world where laws are words meant to be broken. Besides, I needed a mature, innocent bride who isn’t inquisitive about my life to sire me an heir; turns out, you’re the only gem candidate.”

He turned away before I could complain, his footsteps echoing down the marble hall. “A maid will show you your room. Get some rest, Mrs. Astley. You’ll need it.”

The title — Mrs. Astley — stung like a wound that wouldn’t close.

I stood there for a long time after he disappeared, staring at the enormous staircase, the chandeliers, the silence that swallowed the air.

The house was beautiful. But in that moment, it felt like a cage.