Chapter 003: The Wife I Didn't Choose.

Lucien’s POV

Six months.

That was how long I had been awake in this mansion with her.

I spent the first week trying to figure out if I was hallucinating. The second week, I was waiting for someone to tell me the truth.

And the rest? Watching her. Every move. Every habit. Every lie stitched into her calm, tidy smile.

She called herself my wife.

She brought me meals like we were married. Walked around this house like she owned it. Like she belonged here.

And the worst part?

She was good at it. She… was quiet, careful. There was no perfume in her trail, no fake giggles. No overstepping. She did not touch me unless it was necessary. Did not speak unless I asked. She acted like she was waiting for something.

Or hiding something.

And I don’t trust people who hide behind silence.

Her name is Selene. I figured that out the day I asked who the hell she was, and she said it like she expected me to know. My wife, she said.

The woman I was supposed to marry was Cassia Rowe. I remembered that much. She had blonde hair, a sharp jaw, and a sharp mouth. Very photogenic. Not this quite dark-haired ghost walking around mailing herbs on my face and feeding me soup like we were in a done goddamn historical drama.

I kept thinking… maybe Grandmother hired her. Some live-in nurse with good manners and a tragic past. But the moment she said wife, it was like something uncoiled in me.

And I had been clawing at that feeling ever since.

Cassia showed up the same day I woke up, tears streaming down her perfect face as she detailed how this complete stranger had managed to convince Uncle Benedict to be the chosen bride.

“She tricked them,” Cassia had told me, her neatly manicured fingers tracing my jawline. “She tricked you. I tried to see you, Lucien, but she wouldn't let me. She wanted you all to herself.”

I didn’t believe her. Not completely.

But I didn’t believe Selene either.

The contract Benedict drew up is airtight, a legal trick designed to ensnare me. If I initiate divorce, Ashbourne Industries is immediately transferred to Benedict due to my supposed 'mental unfitness' to make sound decisions. If she walks away first, the company remains mine.

So I wait for her to break, for her to disclose her true motives...money, status, or whatever Benedict promised her for this act.

Cassia visits often. Every day.

She draped herself across my arm like an accessory. Touches things that aren’t hers. My face. My wine glass. My necktie.

Everything she did radiated ownership, the instinctual claim of someone who has a stake, and I let her.

“She’s just a maid in a white dress,” Caissa whispered in my ear, her perfume rich and familiar. “You owe her nothing.” Her voice sounded like sugar.

Selene, my so-called wife, never reacts. She didn’t flinch when Cassia criticised her cooking, her clothes, or her very presence in my home. She simply puts down whatever she has and leaves the room, silently fading away.

Of course, she doesn’t defend herself. Who knows what Benedict is paying her for this act?

***

There was one night I can’t explain.

One month ago.

My parents’ death anniversary. It always hits like a train. I drank too much at the office and then drove home like a fool.

I remember stumbling in.

She tried to take off my jacket. I pushed her away more forcefully than intended. She tripped, catching herself against the wall.

Then something shifted. The way she looked at me switched immediately; she was not afraid, not angry, just... sad. As if she understood a deeper pain that I hadn’t grasped.

Her cool hands on my face as she whispered my name gently. The way her breath hitched when I held her waist, drew her closer, and felt her warm body.

I don’t recall what I said or what happened next. The alcohol buried what was left for that night.

But I noticed the next morning she couldn't meet my gaze, her hands trembled when she set down my coffee, and then how she hurriedly left.

I didn't bother asking what transpired between us; I wouldn't have apologised either, so I acted as if nothing happened.

***

Today, I came home early.

When I returned from the office, I expected the usual: dinner prepared, the smell of food, the calm sound of her footsteps in the hallway, and that quiet presence that I have gotten used to.

Her bedroom door was wide open. It was empty.

I walked inside her room for the first time. The closet was half empty, clothes hanging like forgotten promises. Her drawer is completely empty.

“Selene,” I called out her name, already sensing the truth. There was silence.

She was gone. No note, no message, no sign.

“She was supposed to stay until she snapped, until whatever Benedict was compensating her for ended, and she unveiled her true intentions. She wasn’t supposed to leave while I was still watching, still waiting for her to reveal what she desired from me.

This wasn’t part of the plan. She was never supposed to leave now.

And now, standing in her barren room, her absence pressing heavily against my chest like a tangible weight.

And now…

I don’t know why it fucking hurts.