Chapter 2: The woman he blamed

Chapter 2: The woman he blamed

Francesca’s POV

The Windsor mansion was quieter than I expected. The moment I stepped through the front doors, I felt it. The staff moved around me politely, but nobody smiled. Their eyes followed me before quickly looking away.

Julian didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care. He walked upstairs without waiting for me. I followed a maid until we reached the second floor where she opened a door.

“Your room, Mrs. Windsor.”

I stepped inside. The room was beautiful. Cream walls, tall windows, a sitting area and a balcony overlooking the gardens.

Julian appeared at the doorway. “This is where you’ll stay.”

“Okay.”

He turned to leave but I stopped him. “Julian.”

I hesitated, my hand still gripping the strap of my bag. “Are you going to tell me what happens now?”

His expression hardened. “You stay here.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“That’s comforting.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re not my wife in any real sense.”

I looked at the ring on my finger, still unfamiliar against my skin. “Interesting, considering the priest just announced otherwise.”

His jaw tightened. “This marriage wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Neither was Sophie disappearing.”

He stared at me, and I watched the anger return to his face. “I didn’t make her disappear.” I said.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I honestly don’t care what you believe.” Before he could say anything else, his phone rang. He looked at the screen and went still.

“Sophie.”

My stomach dropped. He answered immediately. “Where are you?”

I couldn’t hear her clearly, but from his reaction, she was saying something serious. “What?”

He walked farther into the hallway. “Why did you leave?”

Silence.

“What did Francesca do?” His voice had gone cold and my heart sank. He listened for a few seconds longer then ended the call. I stood there waiting.

“What did she say?”

He looked at me, “She said you knew she was leaving.”

“What?”

“She said you confronted her before the wedding.”

“That isn’t true.” I said

“She said you wanted her place.”

“She left her own wedding and somehow I’m the villain?”

“She said you purposely took her place.”

“I didn’t.”

His eyes hardened. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Like I said before, I don’t care what you believe.”

I walked past him towards the stairs and he caught my wrist. I looked down at his hand, then up at him, waiting. “Let go.”

He released me, and he looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it “Forget it.”

He walked away. I watched him disappear down the hallway, my wrist still warm where his hand had been. Before I could think about it too long, voices rose from downstairs.

His parents. I followed the sound to the foyer, where his father stood furious, his mother beside him with her arms crossed. “You’re getting a divorce?”

“Yes. As soon as possible.”

“It hasn’t even been a full 24 hours,” his mother said, her eyes flicking to me like I was the reason for all of it.

“You cannot publicly divorce her immediately,” his father said, stepping closer.

“She lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.” I said, but nobody seemed to hear me.

“The press will destroy both families,” his father continued

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

“She isn’t the woman I agreed to marry.” The words stung more than they should have and I looked down at the ring, feeling smaller than I wanted to admit.

“There is another option.” His father said

Julian turned. “What?”

“You remain married. You live separately but maintain the marriage publicly. No one needs to know what happens inside this house.”

“How long?” Julian asked

“Until we can arrange a quiet divorce.”

Julian shook his head. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s necessary.”

I finally spoke “And what happens to me?”

Everyone turned to me and his father sighed. “You can remain here.”

“That’s generous.”

“You don’t have anywhere else to go.”

He was right and that was the worst part. Going back to my parents meant returning to the same house where they had traded my future for their company. I wasn’t ready to walk back into that.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll stay, but I have conditions. Don’t treat me like a prisoner, don’t interfere in my personal life and I won’t interfere with your relationship with Sophie.”

I looked at Julian and he nodded. “Good.”

His father stepped back. “Then it’s settled.”

It was, at least for the moment.

The days that followed passed strangely. I learned the mansion’s rules quickly, breakfast at seven, dinner at eight, Julian’s office was off limits, the west wing belonged to his parents. And it turns out, I was expected to disappear whenever guests arrived. I discovered that last rule on Thursday afternoon. I was sitting in the drawing room, working on a necklace design when Marta, one of the maids, entered.

“Mrs. Windsor, Mr Windsor has guests.” She said

“So?”

She hesitated, her eyes dropping. “His mother would prefer if you went upstairs.”

I slowly closed my sketchbook. “Why?”

“She doesn’t want the guests confused.”

I stared at her. “Confused about what?”

Marta lowered her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No. You should finish.”

She sighed. “Mrs. Windsor, please. Don’t cause trouble.”

I stood, “I haven’t caused any trouble since I arrived here.”

Marta left, and I picked my sketchbook back up. If Julian’s mother wanted me upstairs, she could tell me herself. I barely had time to sit back down before footsteps approached.

His mother entered, her expression already sharpened for a fight. “You were told to go upstairs.”

“I was told your guests were arriving.”

“Don’t be difficult.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re embarrassing this family.” I closed my sketchbook. “You should remember your position.” she continued.

“I do.” I replied

“Then act like it.”

I stood, meeting her eyes fully. “I was forced into this marriage. I’m not going to be forced into hiding inside the house too.” Her lips parted but before she could respond, Julian’s voice cut through the room from the doorway.

“What is happening?”

Julian.

His eyes moved between us. His mother spoke first. “Your wife has forgotten her place.”

I looked at him. “Apparently, I’m supposed to disappear whenever you have guests.”

Julian’s eyes shifted to his mother. “Did you tell her that?”

“Yes.”

He looked at me. “You can stay.”

His mother looked shocked. “Julian.”

“I said she can stay.”

She stared at him a moment longer before turning and walking away. I sat back down and Julian remained in the doorway, watching me.

“You didn’t have to argue with her.”

“I wasn’t arguing.”

“You were.”

I picked up my pencil, not looking at him. “Then perhaps she should stop speaking to me like I’m a servant.”

His eyes lingered on me a second too long. “You’re changing.”

I looked up. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

He walked away, and I watched him go. Weird.

That evening, I went into the garden. It was the only place in the mansion where I could breathe. I sat beneath a tree and opened my sketchbook. A shadow fell across the page.

“You hide here often?”

I looked up. Davis Windsor stood behind me, Julian’s grandfather, his hands folded behind his back. I smiled faintly. “I don’t hide.”

“Then what do you call it?”

“Choosing somewhere quiet.”

He smiled and lowered himself onto the bench beside me. His eyes moved to my sketch.

“A bracelet?”

“Yes.”

“Why the uneven stones?”

“Because perfection is boring.”

He laughed. “I like that.”

We talked longer than I thought we would. He asked about my designs and I told him about the jewelry company I wanted someday.

“You should build it.” He said after a while

“With what money?”

“Start small.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

“Most worthwhile things are.” He said simply.

“Do you really think I can do it?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “You have talent, Francesca. Don’t let this house convince you otherwise.”

That night, I returned to my room and worked until midnight. I was sketching another bracelet when a knock sounded. I looked up and Julian stood at the door. His eyes moved to the sketches scattered across my desk.

“You’re still awake.”

“Yes.”

“You do this every night? He asked

“Yes.”

He stepped inside and picked up one of my drawings. “You designed all of these?”

“Yes.”

“It’s good.”

“Thank you.” I said

He set it down, and then his eyes settled on the necklace I was wearing. A thin gold chain with a small emerald pendant shaped like a leaf.

“Where did you get that?”

I frowned. “I’ve had it for years. I designed it myself.”

“Sophie used to wear something just like it, so I assumed it was hers.” He said.

“It’s not hers, it’s mine. She must have borrowed it at some point without telling me. She used to do that with things of mine.” I said

His eyes stayed on the necklace for a moment before returning to mine. “Why does it matter to you? I asked.

“It doesn’t.” He said, too quickly and turned toward the door. “Goodnight, Francesca.”

And then he was gone.