تسجيل الدخولThe Blackwood mansion was enormous.
Almost overwhelming. Elara realized that the moment she stepped inside. The marble floors shimmered beneath the chandelier lights, the ceilings soared high above, and the silence echoed through the hallways like an empty cathedral. This was meant to be her new home. Yet she felt more like a guest than a resident. Or an intruder. The staff had shown her to the master suite hours earlier. The sheer size of the room reminded her of her childhood home. But Aaron hadn't come upstairs. Not after the reception. Not after the guests left. Not even after midnight. Elara sat on the edge of the bed, the soft glow of a lamp surrounding her, still wearing the silk robe the housekeeper had given her. Maybe he was busy. Maybe this was normal. After all, they were strangers forced into a marriage. She shouldn't expect too much. Still… A small part of her had hoped he might at least speak to her. Explain how things would work. Share his expectations. Anything. The clock on the nightstand ticked slowly. 1:17 AM. Then suddenly— Voices echoed from downstairs. A woman's laugh. Light. Familiar. Elara froze. Her stomach sank. She quietly rose and walked toward the bedroom door. The hallway was dim, but the staircase lights remained on. More laughter floated upward. She recognized the voice instantly. Elena. Elara's fingers tightened faintly as she looked down. Aaron and Elena were walking through the entrance hall together. Elena's arm was loosely wrapped around Aaron's. They looked… comfortable. Like two people who had done this many times before. Elena noticed Elara first. Her eyes lifted toward the staircase. A slow smile spread across her lips. "Well," she said softly. "Looks like the bride is still awake." Aaron glanced up. For a brief moment, his eyes met Elara's. There was no guilt there. No apology. Only a mild acknowledgment. Elena's smile widened. "Oh dear," she continued calmly. "Did we wake you?" Elara shook her head quietly. "No." Elena tilted her head slightly, studying her. "You should get some rest," she said gently. Her tone was almost sympathetic. Almost. "It must be exhausting… adjusting to a new life like this." The implication was clear. You don't belong here. Elara swallowed but said nothing. Aaron finally spoke. "Go to bed, Elara." His voice was calm. Dismissive. Like he was speaking to an employee. Elara nodded once. "Good night." She returned to the bedroom before either of them could see the hurt in her eyes. ⸻ She didn't sleep. Not even a little. A few minutes later, Elena's laughter echoed again. From Aaron's room. The room across the hall. Doors closing. Soft voices. Then silence. And still, Elara tried very hard not to listen. But the mansion's walls weren't as thick as she wished. Every muffled laugh. Every movement. Every whisper. Every moan. The night stretched endlessly. Elara lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, until morning light softly crept through the curtains. Her chest felt heavy. Tight. This wasn't what she imagined marriage would feel like. ⸻ By morning, the outside world already knew. Elara discovered that when she checked her phone. Hundreds of notifications flooded her screen. Curiosity quickly turned into dread. Social media was buzzing. Photos from the wedding had gone viral overnight. And so had the comments. “Billionaire marries plus-size stranger”. “Aaron Blackwood's bride sparks online debate”. “Beauty and… well… something else”. Elara's hands trembled as she scrolled. The comments were harsh. “She must have blackmailed him”. “No way he chose her”. Look at her standing next to him”. “Embarrassing. “He probably regrets it already”. One comment had thousands of likes. “Blink twice if you need help, Aaron”. Elara forced herself to stop reading. But then another post appeared. This one had a photo attached. Aaron. And Elena. Leaving a nightclub. His arm around her waist. Her head leaning toward his shoulder. The caption read: “Blackwood heir celebrates wedding night… with Super Model and influencer Elena Vance. They had both been seen several times in the past together sparking dating rumors and it seems that they are still both in love even after Aaron's sham marriage.” Elara felt something break inside her. She locked her phone and placed it on the nightstand. Maybe she shouldn't have expected anything different. Still… Seeing it all so publicly hurt more than she thought it would. ⸻ Across the city, Aaron sat in his office. His grandfather's voice echoed sharply across the room. "Explain this." Edward Blackwood threw a tablet onto the desk. The screen displayed the viral headlines. Aaron barely glanced at it. "It's gossip." "It's humiliation," Edward snapped. "For this family." Aaron leaned back calmly. "The public will forget in a week." Edward's eyes hardened. "And your wife?" Aaron didn't respond. The silence irritated Edward even more. "The innocent girl is being dragged through every news outlet this morning," Edward said sharply. "You will fix this." Aaron raised an eyebrow. "You care about public opinion now?" "I care about dignity," Edward replied. "And you will stop embarrassing your wife." Aaron sighed quietly. Fixing this would take a few calls. A few favors. Nothing difficult. "Fine," he said. ⸻ By afternoon, the internet looked different. Elara noticed immediately. When she hesitantly checked again, the hateful posts were gone. Articles had disappeared. Photos had vanished. Even the viral comments had been wiped. As if the scandal never existed. She blinked in confusion. How? The mansion doors opened downstairs. Footsteps approached. Aaron entered the living room. Elara stood from the couch. "I wanted to ask you something." Aaron loosened his tie. "What?" She hesitated. "The articles… the posts… they're gone." He nodded once. "Yes." "You removed them?" Aaron met her eyes. For a moment, she thought she saw something softer. But it vanished quickly. "Don't misunderstand," he said coldly. "I didn't do it for you." Her heart sank. "My grandfather asked me to." The words hit harder than she expected. Aaron continued calmly. "He doesn't like public scandals." Elara nodded faintly. "Of course." A moment of silence filled the room again. Aaron walked past her toward the staircase. Then paused briefly. "You should stay away from the internet," he said flatly. "It's not kind to people like you." He went upstairs without another word. Elara remained standing in the middle of the room. The mansion felt colder than it had the night before. And for the first time since the wedding… she wondered if she had made a terrible mistakeAaron didn’t stay long. After a brief, unreadable glance between him and Maya, he gave a short nod to Elara and walked past them without a word. Typical. Maya watched him disappear down the hallway before turning slowly back to Elara. “…I don’t like him.” Elara sighed softly. “Maya—” “No,” Maya cut in, dropping back onto the couch. “I’m serious. That man has the emotional range of a wall.” Elara couldn’t help it—she laughed. “Be nice.” “I am being nice,” Maya replied dryly. “If I weren’t, I’d have said worse.” Elara shook her head, but the smile lingered. Maya leaned forward suddenly. “Get up.” Elara blinked. “What?” “Get. Up.” “Maya, what are you—” “We’re going out.” Elara froze. “…No.” “Yes.” “No,” Elara repeated more firmly. “I already tried that. It didn’t go well.” Maya waved her off. “I saw the pictures.” “Exactly.” “And?” Maya challenged. Elara stared at her. “And it was humiliating.” Maya leaned back, studying her carefu
The Blackwood mansion had fallen into a dull routine. Quiet mornings. Long, hollow hallways. Meals eaten in solitude. Aaron left before dawn and returned long after dark, their conversations reduced to fleeting, polite exchanges that barely lasted a minute. Elara had long stopped hoping for anything different. That morning, she sat by the towering living room windows, a book resting in her lap, though she hadn't truly read in over an hour. Her mind kept drifting. The silence was almost too much to bear. Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at the unfamiliar number. Usually, she would ignore it. But something compelled her to answer. "Hello?" A pause—then a voice burst through with unmistakable energy. "Elara Hart." Elara froze. That voice… "No way," the voice continued. "You're answering your phone like a stranger now?" Elara sat upright. "…Maya?" A peal of la
The Blackwood driver gently opened the car door for her. Elara stepped out cautiously. The shopping district was so different from places she usually visited. Tall glass storefronts displayed designer clothing, jewelry sparkled softly, and luxury cars lined the street. Everything appeared expensive. Everything seemed overwhelming. Elara instinctively clutched her handbag a bit tighter. She still felt uncomfortable carrying the black card Edward had given her. It sat in her wallet like something she wasn't supposed to touch. Still… he had insisted. Go out today. So she went. Inside the first boutique, the sales assistants greeted her kindly. But their eyes lingered a moment too long. Their smiles felt a little forced. "Welcome, ma'am." "Please let us know if you need anything." Elara nodded gently and moved between the clothing racks. The dresses were beautiful. Elegant fabrics. Soft colors. But most of them didn't seem to fit
The Blackwood mansion was eerily quiet in the morning. Almost too quiet. Elara had barely slept. Fragments of the night's memories haunted her, scenes she desperately wished she could forget. By the time the first light seeped through the towering windows, she had already given up on trying to sleep. She wrapped a light cardigan around her shoulders and quietly left her room. Maybe a cup of tea would soothe her nerves. The mansion's hallways stretched endlessly, marble floors shimmering in the pale morning light. Even her footsteps sounded strange, as if they belonged to someone else. As she approached the kitchen, muffled voices drifted through the slightly open door. Staff. They hadn't noticed her. Elara slowed her pace. "I still don't understand it," a maid whispered. Another responded softly, "None of us do." A brief pause stretched between them. "Mr. Blackwood could have married anyone." "Exactly." "He
The Blackwood mansion was enormous. Almost overwhelming. Elara realized that the moment she stepped inside. The marble floors shimmered beneath the chandelier lights, the ceilings soared high above, and the silence echoed through the hallways like an empty cathedral. This was meant to be her new home. Yet she felt more like a guest than a resident. Or an intruder. The staff had shown her to the master suite hours earlier. The sheer size of the room reminded her of her childhood home. But Aaron hadn't come upstairs. Not after the reception. Not after the guests left. Not even after midnight. Elara sat on the edge of the bed, the soft glow of a lamp surrounding her, still wearing the silk robe the housekeeper had given her. Maybe he was busy. Maybe this was normal. After all, they were strangers forced into a marriage. She shouldn't expect too much. Still…
The reception hall shimmered with displays of wealth. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls, casting a warm, golden glow over the guests dressed in elegant gowns and tailored suits. Champagne flowed generously, laughter echoed softly, and cameras flashed at every moment. To outsiders, everything appeared flawless. But Elara felt as if she had stepped into a room full of strangers, all ready to judge her. She sat beside Aaron at the long head table, her hands gently folded in her lap. The whispers had not ceased. If anything, they had grown louder now that the ceremony was over. People believed the bride and groom were too far away to hear them. They were mistaken. "Is that really her?" "I thought the photos were edited." "She looks even larger in person." Someone snickered. "I give the marriage six months." Elara kept her gaze on the tablecloth. White silk. Perfectly ironed. She counted th







