Chapter 4: Old Master Shore's Decree

The quiet didn’t last as by 7PM, a knock at the door startled her.

“Madam, the Master has returned,” Madam Helene announced through the door. “He expects you downstairs in ten minutes. Old Master Shore has summoned you both to the ancestral residence for dinner.”

Gabrielle’s heart skipped a beat. The real test was beginning. Ethan’s grandfather was a legend—a man who had built the Shore Empire with blood and iron. If he saw through their sham marriage, she’d be thrown to the wolves.

When she reached the hallway, Ethan was waiting. He was leaning against a black pillar, scrolling through his phone. He had changed into a navy suit that made him look even more imposing.

He looked up as she descended the stairs. His eyes lingered for a second too long on the way her simple black dress hugged her curves, but his expression remained a mask of indifference.

“You’re late,” he said, tucking his phone away.

“I had to finish my makeup,” she lied. In reality, she had been practicing her “happy wife” smile in the mirror, failing every time.

He walked toward her, his presence instantly shrinking the room. He reached out, his hand hovering near her waist before he pulled back. “My grandfather is the most observant man in this city. If you act unnatural or cower, he will know. Are you prepared?”

“I am prepared, Mr. Shore,” she said, though her racing pulse told a different story.

“Very well then.” He grabbed her hand, his fingers interlacing with hers. His palm was hot, a stark contrast to his cold demeanor. “From this moment until we leave the ancestral house, you are the woman I am madly in love with. Act like it.”

———

The Ancestral Residence

The Shore ancestral house was the opposite of the manor—it was traditional, filled with the scent of aged sandalwood and history.

Old Master Shore sat at the head of a long rosewood table. His hair was snow-white, but his eyes were sharp as a hawk’s. Beside him sat Ethan’s aunt and his cousin, Henry Daniels—the man who stood to inherit everything if Ethan stayed single.

The atmosphere was thick with hostility.

“So,” the Old Master said, his voice a gravelly rumble. “This is the girl who managed to catch the heart of my ‘Iceberg’ grandson in a single night?”

“Grandfather,” Ethan said, his voice uncharacteristically smooth. He pulled Gabrielle’s chair out for her and then sat remarkably close, his arm draped over the back of her chair in a possessive gesture. “Brel and I have known each other for a while. We chose to keep it private until we were sure.”

“Is that so?” Henry sneered, his eyes roving over Gabrielle. “Funny, I heard a rumor that Miss Daniels was supposed to be at the Lavetric Hotel with President Brute last night but ended up in your bed, cousin.”

Gabrielle felt her blood run cold, but she didn’t let it . She picked up her tea, taking a slow, graceful sip.

“President Brute was interested in a business deal with my father,” Gabrielle said, meeting Henry's gaze without blinking. “But Ethan doesn’t like me talking to other businessmen. He’s… a bit possessive.” She tilted her head slightly. “Aren’t you, honey?”

Ethan reached up, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. His touch was lingering, almost tender. “I don’t like sharing what belongs to me,” he murmured, his voice sounding dangerously sincere.

The Old Master watched them, his eyes narrowing. Suddenly, he slammed his hand on the table, making the porcelain rattle.

“Enough theater!” the Old Master shouted.

Gabrielle froze. Had he caught them?

“I don’t care how you met or why you married so fast,” the Old Master said, a small, wicked glint appearing in his eyes. “But the Shore family needs an heir. If this marriage is real, I expect a great-grandchild within a year.”

Gabrielle choked on her tea. Ethan’s hand on her shoulder tightened.

“And to make sure you’re… focused on your marital duties,” the Old Master continued, “I’ve instructed the servants at the Manor to renovate. Starting tonight, your separate wings are closed for ‘maintenance.’ You will be sharing the Master Suite.”

“Grandfather, that’s not necessary—” Ethan began, his voice tightening.

“It is settled!” the Old Master barked. “One bed. One room. If I find out you’re sleeping on the couch, Ethan, I’ll sign the 30% stake over to your cousin tomorrow morning.”

——-

Later that night, back at Ethan's manor, Gabrielle stood in the middle of Ethan’s massive bedroom. His scent—that intoxicating mix of cedar and rain—was everywhere.

The door clicked shut behind her.

She turned to see Ethan loosening his tie, his eyes dark and unreadable. The “act” from dinner was over, but the atmosphere was even more charged.

“There’s only one bed, Mr. Shore,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Ethan walked toward her, stopping only when she was backed against the edge of the mattress. He reached out, not for her hand, but for the zipper at the back of her dress.

“The servants will report everything to my grandfather, Gabrielle,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. “If we’re going to keep your act and my company, we have to make them hear what they expect to hear.”

He leaned in closer, his lips inches from hers. “Tell me… how good of an actress are you?”

Downstairs, Suddenly, the front door of the manor burst open. A woman’s voice, high-pitched and hysterical, echoed through the halls.

“Ethan! I know you’re in there! You can’t marry her! You cannot dump me after that night four years ago!”

Gabrielle felt Ethan freeze. The temperature in the room plummeted.

“Who is that?” Gabrielle asked.

Ethan’s face turned into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.