Chapter 3. The Woman in the Mansion

Amelia finished breakfast in silence.

The dining room was too large for one person, its long polished table reflecting the soft morning light streaming in through tall glass windows. The maids moved quietly around her, efficient and distant, as if afraid to disturb the stillness that always followed her

in this mansion. Even the clinking of cutlery sounded louder than it should have.

When she was done, Amelia wiped her lips gently with a napkin and stood up.

“Thank you,” she murmured out of habit, though none of the maids met her eyes.

She returned to her room with a strange heaviness in her chest.

The day stretched endlessly ahead of her, empty and dull. Ricardo was gone—always gone—and the mansion felt like a beautifully decorated cage. Hours passed as she wandered from room to room, flipping through magazines she didn’t care about, staring out of the windows at the perfectly trimmed garden below, lying on her bed only to stare at the ceiling again.

By noon, boredom had settled deep into her bones.

This was her life now, she thought bitterly. A contract wife with nothing to do but exist quietly.

By afternoon, Amelia could no longer stand the suffocating silence. She picked up her phone and stared at Bianca’s name for a long moment before typing.

Are you free today? I really need to see you.

The reply came almost instantly.

Always. Where?

A small smile tugged at Amelia’s lips. Bianca had always been like this—steady, loyal, her anchor long before life became complicated. They agreed to meet at a quiet café not far from the city center, a place they had loved during their university days.

Amelia informed Miss Pat, the head housemaid, that she would be going out.

“Very well, Mrs. Hart,” Miss Pat replied with a polite nod. “Will you be returning before dinner?”

“Yes,” Amelia said softly.

Outside, the fresh air felt liberating. For the first time all day, she felt like she could breathe.

The café was warm and cozy, filled with the aroma of coffee and pastries. Bianca was already seated by the window, waving enthusiastically the moment she spotted Amelia.

“Look at you,” Bianca teased as Amelia sat down. “You look good ”

Amelia laughed weakly. “If only it felt that way.”

Bianca frowned immediately. “Okay, that doesn’t sound good. Talk to me.”

And Amelia did.

She told her everything—how the contract marriage came to be, the cold terms written neatly on paper, Ricardo’s emotional distance, the loneliness that followed her like a shadow. She spoke about the mansion, the silence, the strange feeling of being married yet utterly alone.

By the time she finished, her voice was shaking.

Bianca sat frozen, her coffee untouched.

“A contract marriage?” Bianca repeated slowly, disbelief written all over her face. “Amelia… are you serious?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Amelia whispered. “I needed the money. It was the only way.”

Bianca leaned forward, her eyes filled with worry. “This is insane. You don’t know this man. And something about him—about this whole arrangement—doesn’t feel right.”

Amelia looked away, her fingers tightening around her cup.

“Ricardo isn’t cruel,” she said, though the words lacked conviction. “He’s just… distant.”

“That’s not comforting,” Bianca snapped gently. “Amelia, you should end this. Break the agreement while you still can. I have a bad feeling about him.”

The concern in Bianca’s eyes made Amelia’s chest ache. She reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s hand.

“I’ll be fine,” she said softly. “Really. I can handle it.”

Bianca sighed. “You always say that. You’re strong, yes—but that doesn’t mean you should suffer in silence.”

Amelia smiled faintly. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be careful.”

They talked a little longer, about lighter things—old memories, silly jokes—but the unease lingered beneath every word. When they finally parted ways, Bianca hugged Amelia tightly, as if afraid to let her go.

“Promise me you’ll call if anything feels wrong,” Bianca said.

“I promise.”

The sun was already beginning to set when Amelia returned to the mansion.

As soon as she stepped inside, something felt… off.

The house was quieter than usual, yet charged with an unfamiliar presence. Her heels echoed against the marble floor as she walked toward the living room—and then she stopped.

A woman was sitting there.

She was beautifully dressed, her elegant gown hugging her figure perfectly, dark hair cascading over her shoulders like silk. One leg was crossed over the other as she held a glass of wine delicately in her hand, completely at ease—as if she belonged there.

The woman looked up.

Their eyes met.

Amelia’s breath caught in her throat.

There was a sharp intelligence in the woman’s gaze, mixed with something colder—something assessing. Slowly, a frown appeared on her face.

"who are you"the woman asked

The mansion suddenly felt smaller.

And for the first time since signing the contract, Amelia realized—this marriage was far more complicated than she had ever imagined