Chapter 48 - A Cold Welcome 

The car rolled to a stop in front of the grand estate. Even though Ayra had been prepared for luxury, the sheer scale of Lucian’s house still made her pause. 

It was the kind of place that belonged in glossy magazines—elegant but imposing, with towering columns, expansive windows, and a wrought-iron gate that had opened for them without a word.

Lucian stepped out first, shutting the car door behind him without so much as a glance in her direction. Ayra hesitated for a moment before following, her heels clicking against the stone driveway. She turned to grab her bag, but one of the staff members had already taken it, whisking it away with practiced efficiency.

She stepped into the entrance hall, where the marble floors gleamed beneath the soft lighting. Everything smelled of expensive wood, clean linen, and something faintly herbal—like freshly cut leaves. It was as lavish as she’d expected, but the atmosphere felt cold. Not in the temperature, but in the way the house seemed too quiet, too impersonal.

Lucian didn’t wait for her. He walked ahead, his long strides carrying him deeper into the house without a word.

Ayra frowned, glancing at the house staff lingering nearby. None of them met her gaze directly, as if unsure how to act around her. She took a tentative step forward, scanning the space. 

The walls were lined with sleek, modern paintings—abstract designs in muted colors. The furniture was expensive but minimalist, all clean lines and neutral shades. There was no warmth. No sign of a person who truly lived here.

Her gaze landed on a set of familiar trunks and boxes stacked neatly by the staircase. Her things.

She blinked. Why were they here? She had assumed they would have been placed in her room before her arrival, yet they remained in the hallway, untouched. A foreboding feeling roiled in her gut. 

A butler, an older man with silver-streaked hair and a neatly pressed uniform, hesitated before stepping toward her. His movements were measured, cautious.

"Ma’am," he said politely, dipping his head. "Shall I have your things moved to your room?"

Ayra was about to nod when a thought struck her.

"...Where is my room?"

The butler hesitated just long enough for unease to coil in her stomach.

He motioned toward one of the staff members, who stepped forward and gestured toward the far end of the hallway. "This way, please, ma’am."

Her feet felt oddly heavy as she followed. Lucian had said nothing. Hadn’t even told her where she was expected to sleep. It was a small thing, maybe, but it felt deliberate.

She was led down a long corridor, the sound of her footsteps swallowed by the thick carpeting. The farther they walked, the more she realized that they weren’t heading toward what she would assume were the master bedrooms. In fact, they were moving away from the main section of the house entirely.

When the staff member finally stopped, she opened the door to reveal an elegant bedroom. It was spacious, decorated in neutral tones with soft lighting and tasteful furnishings. The bed was large, the sheets crisp and undoubtedly expensive. A small sitting area with a couch and bookshelves lined the far side of the room, and there was an attached bathroom that looked just as luxurious.

It was beautiful. But something about it made her chest tighten.

It wasn’t next to Lucian’s. It wasn’t even in the same wing.

She was on the farthest side of the house, tucked away as if she were an afterthought.

The realization settled in her stomach like a weight.

"Would you like anything brought up, ma’am?" the staff member asked hesitantly.

Ayra shook her head. "No… This is fine."

The woman nodded and exited, leaving Ayra alone in the too-perfect silence of her new room.

She exhaled slowly, moving toward the bed and sitting on the edge. The mattress dipped slightly beneath her weight, and she let her hands rest against the cool fabric of the sheets.

So this was how it was going to be.

She wasn’t naive. She hadn’t expected a warm welcome, hadn’t expected Lucian to be waiting for her with open arms. But this…

This was something else.

She had been placed in a corner of the house, out of sight, out of mind. Like a guest overstaying their welcome.

Her fingers curled into the blankets.

Her eyes flicked to the door, half-expecting Lucian to show up, to at least say something. But the hallway remained quiet.

The thought that this was supposed to be her home now sent a sharp pang through her chest.

She turned toward the window instead, pushing back the thick curtains. The view overlooked a pristine garden, manicured and symmetrical, as if every leaf had been placed with purpose. It was beautiful but artificial, much like everything else about this place.

She let out a soft breath, resting her forehead against the cool glass.

She had known that this marriage was never going to be easy. That Lucian wasn’t marrying her out of love, or even fondness. Yet still, she had dared to hope. 

But standing in this empty room, surrounded by all this grandeur that somehow still felt suffocatingly empty—she realized just how alone she was going to be.

There was no point in wallowing, she told herself.

She straightened, running her fingers through her hair before moving to unpack some of her things. The staff would likely do it for her, but she needed something to occupy her hands.

She had barely unzipped one of her suitcases when there was a knock at the door.

Her stomach tensed.

She turned quickly, expecting—hoping—that it was Lucian. That he was here to fucking explain and tell her that she'd not made the wrong decision. 

Instead, a different staff member stood there, offering a polite nod.

"Ma’am, lunch will be served in an hour. Would you like to eat in the dining room, or would you prefer it brought here?"

The question made her pause.

There shouldn’t even be a choice. The expectation would be to join Lucian for meals. But this… This felt more like an invitation to stay away.

Her grip tightened on the edge of her suitcase.

"...I’ll come to the dining room," she said finally.

The staff member nodded. "Very well, ma’am. I’ll inform Mr. Cyrus."

She swallowed as the door shut once again, leaving her alone.

So Lucian hadn’t even planned to call her down for lunch himself. It shouldn't have but it stung. Perhaps that whimsical midnight call he'd made had her expecting more than she should have. 

She pressed her lips together, inhaling slowly before turning back to her things.

It was fine.

She could handle this.

But as she stood there, surrounded by all the luxury in the world yet feeling more isolated than she ever had before—she wondered just how long she could pretend this was fine.

Not a while too long, she wagered.