Chapter 3 : Mrs Vale

After the wedding

The mansion swallowed her whole.

Crystal stood in the entrance hall, one small bag in her hand, and tried not to gape. Marble floors. A chandelier the size of her old apartment. Staircases curving into wings she couldn't see.

A house this big shouldn't feel suffocating.

But it did.

Mrs. Hargrove led her upstairs. "Your bedroom. Mr. Vale's room is at the end of the hall."

Separate rooms. Of course.

"Mr. Vale is away on business. He'll return next week."

The door clicked shut.

Crystal sat on the bed, touched the silk sheets, looked at the ring on her finger.

What have I done?

The first week

She learned the house. Staff appeared and disappeared. Meals appeared at set times.

She found the kitchen anyway. Asked the chef if she could cook. Made his favorites—she'd asked what Mr. Vale liked.

That night, she set the table for two. Lit candles. Waited.

Eight passed. Nine. Ten.

At eleven, Mrs. Hargrove appeared. "Mr. Vale won't be returning tonight."

Crystal ate alone.

The second week

Ethan returned.

Crystal heard the front door and hurried down. He handed his coat away, saw her, revealed nothing.

"You're here," she said.

"This is my house." He walked past. "I'll be working late. Don't wait up."

Gone.

Crystal stood invisible again.

The months that followed

Savannah arrived. "So you're the replacement. My brother's little charity case."

Crystal said nothing.

Savannah visited often after that. Daily comments. Small cruelties.

That dress is interesting. Did you bring it from the orphanage?

My brother hates fish. Surprised you didn't know.

Crystal absorbed each blow.

She learned his schedule. Left coffee outside his door every morning. Cooked his favorites. Left notes: In case you're hungry.

He never acknowledged them. But the plates came back empty.

One morning, his door opened while she was leaving coffee. He stood there—shirtless, hair messy, ice eyes looking down at her.

For one second, she saw him. The exhaustion. The surprise.

Then his face shuttered. "You don't need to do this."

"I want to."

"Why?"

"Because you're my husband."

Something flickered in his eyes. Then he closed the door.

Crystal stood in the hallway, heart racing.

She was falling in love with him.

One year later

Present day

The party was over. The guests were gone. Crystal had stood in the corner all night, holding a tray, invisible as always. Savannah's idea. Savannah's cruelty.

Ethan had talked with other women. Hadn't looked at her once.

Now she sat on her bed in the darkness, his cold "don't" still echoing in her ears. The shower ran in his room down the hall. He hadn't come to her. He never came to her.

She touched her necklace.

How much longer can you do this?

The question hung in the air.

No answer came.

Then voices.

From downstairs. A woman's laugh, bright and artificial. Savannah's voice answering, warm, welcoming.

Crystal stood. Walked to her window. Looked down at the entrance below.

A car waited in the driveway. Expensive. Flashy. And walking toward the front door, arm in arm with Savannah, was a woman.

Blonde hair piled high. Dress so tight it was practically painted on. Red heels that screamed for attention. Jewelry that caught the light and threw it back in sharp, desperate flashes.

Beautiful? Yes.

But the kind of beautiful that tried too hard. The kind that needed everyone to look.

Crystal didn't know her.

But something cold settled in her stomach anyway.

The woman glanced up directly at Crystal's window.

And smiled.