3. Visitor

Theodore

"Don't fucking bullshit with me, Mark! How are you even capable of being a lawyer if you can't give correct information to your client!" I threw the papers in the face of the thirty-five-year-old-man who stood in front of me in my office.

"Mr. Maxwell, first, I worked for your father, which makes him my client, not you. Secondly, I am doing exactly what he asked me to do after his death. I have to follow his instructions. Moreover, these clauses are written in the will. I gave you a copy to read. Didn't you go over them?"

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Why in the fuck did I not read the details in the will and only hear the important points from his mouth?

"That's not the point! You should have told me that I had to stay married to her for at least three months before I inherited the complete business! Not just state that I need a wife!" I don't know why my father even believed a woman could make me fall in love with her in three months? Like seriously? What was that old fool on? No offense to him, I love him, but seriously? This?

"He just wanted what was the best for you," Mark reasoned.

"No! He's only made things ten times harder for me! Now I can't-" fucking hell! Now I can't divorce her the day after tomorrow since I am not going to get what was legally supposed to be mine tomorrow. Now I have to wait three months for it! Three fucking months!

"-just get out." That was all Mark needed to leave me alone with Anders giving me a sympathetic look. "Get me a coffee please." He nodded before rushing off.

I loosened my tie before pulling it over my head and throwing it somewhere in the corner of my office, followed by my suit jacket. It was pretty late now. Almost 1 am and I was assuming everyone had fallen asleep. Including her.

My thoughts ran off to her, thinking now I would have to bear that offspring of fucking Roosevelt. I can promise, she would be exactly like her father. A cunning greedy gold digger. Or else, why would she have said yes to this marriage otherwise? Getting the fame, the riches of being my wife? Who would say no to that? But I'll make sure I give her and her lousy father a good time for even thinking of stepping foot into my life. Just wait and watch.

I discarded my cufflinks, rolling my sleeves up to my elbows before unbuttoning the top two buttons of my crisp white shirt. Sinking into my recliner, I squeezed my eyes shut before taking in a deep breath to calm myself down.

Exactly after fifteen minutes, I heard a knock on my door. Knowing it would be Anders, I ordered him to come in.

"Took you long enough?" I raised an eyebrow as he placed the cup of my coffee on the desk. I picked it up and took a sip, immediately getting a whiff of something different in the coffee tonight. A good different. Made me want to have another sip. And so I did.

"What did Martha add to the coffee today?"

"Martha had retired to her quarters actually, Mr. Maxwell. But I found Alina in the kitchen." I frowned at that. She was up? What was she doing in the kitchen at 1? "She was thirsty and was looking for some water. Since Martha wasn't up, I asked if she could help me with the coffee. She agreed. Then hunting for the ingredients took a while." That made sense. But I had to give it to her for at least making a decent coffee. "Do you not like it? Should I get you another one to your liking?"

"No, it's fine. You can return to your wing now. Thank you." And with that he left. It took me no more than five minutes to finish the cup. At least it helped me with my building headache.

************

Alina

Who the hell drinks coffee at 1 am? This man is quite literally crazy. But what can I say? I did what that poor butler asked of me. Honestly, for a moment I thought he would shit himself in the pants when he couldn't find Martha to make coffee for his dear boss. I mean, it was just coffee. But we have to expect the unexpected from Theodore Maxwell, don't we? Honestly, who cares? All I wanted to do was hit bed and get over with the day. I was literally drained by now.

The next morning, I woke up with a weird pain in my neck. I might have slept at the wrong angle. Once again. Sighing, I got out of bed to freshen up. Upon reaching downstairs, for a moment I believed I was the only one in the house if not for the slight rumbling coming from the kitchen. Let's see what's for breakfast.

"Good morning, Mrs.Maxwell," Martha wished me as soon as I entered the kitchen. Being called Mrs.Maxwell just felt so odd. That was certainly not what I wanted to be identified as.

"Morning, Martha. You can just call me Alina," I waved her off.

"But it would be wrong of me to not address you as Mrs. Maxwell, as you are-"

"-that's alright. I really don't mind, honestly." I cut her off.

"Oh." She looked confused for a second before speaking again. " Did you need anything? I was just going to come up to you to ask what you wanted for breakfast."

"Actually, would you mind if I could just make breakfast for myself today?" I really was craving my handmade pancakes. My recipe was special.

"I don't think Mr.Maxwell would be happy. We have professional chefs here, Mrs.Max- I mean Alina." She immediately called me by my name when I gave her a pointed look. "They can make anything to your liking."

"I know that, Martha. And thank you so much for letting me know anyways, but I really want to make my breakfast myself. I'm the boss' lady, aren't I? Then I believe my word goes?" She looked at me before nodding quickly. And with that I got busy making myself some pancakes, with Martha hot on my tail to let me know of the utensils and ingredients.

Making two plates of pancakes, one for myself and one for Martha, I placed them neatly on the dining table and sat down before inviting her.

"Come on, join me. I made some for you too," I motioned for her to take a seat beside me.

"Um…" she trailed, looking at the plate, then me. "I'm sorry Alina, but I can't do that." I looked at her, quirking an eyebrow.

"Why? Are you guys forbidden to eat at work? Come on. Just sit. I don't like eating alone."

"It's not that, ma'am. Actually, we can't sit at the table. I mean we are just workers. I don't think Mr.Maxwell would appreciate it if I sat equal to his wife." I looked at her like she had grown two heads.

"What nonsense? Where is Mr.Maxwell?"

"He left early for work." I sighed before looking at her.

"Look Martha, you don't need to follow these rules around me. I'd actually like it if you had some with me. I don't see anyone who'd tell Mr.Maxwell anyway? Just sit, will you?" After thinking for a good one minute, she finally nodded, sitting next to me.

"See? Wasn't that hard, right? Now dig in. I'm starving." It was now she who was looking at me as if I had grown two heads.

"What?" I muffled, with my stuffed mouth.

"What are you doing here?" She asked in amazement, looking at me like I was some antique piece from a museum.

"Um.. eating?"

"No I mean. Here as in, here. In this house. Being Mr. Maxwell's wife? How did you end up here?" I laughed at her question. "I'm sorry I don't mean to offend you or anything. It's just. Mr.Maxwell is so different, and you are the complete opposite. Then why did you marry him when you hardly know him?"

"No offense taken. But to answer your question Martha, I don't know myself what I am doing here. I'm still finding my purpose, I guess." I joked, to which she didn't laugh. I really am a terrible person at making jokes.

"You're really nice," she said all of a sudden.

"Why, thank you. You are really nice too. Now eat, will you?" Just as we completed our breakfast, a guard came into the dining hall. His eyes widened, looking at Martha sitting next to me, but he ignored it and turned to talk to me.

"There is a guest waiting for you in the living room, Mrs. Maxwell." Ugh, can they quit calling Mrs.Maxwell?

"Guest, for me? Who?" Who would come all the way here to meet me. I don't even know many people.

"Mr. Roosevelt." Dad? What was he doing here? I only prayed, he isn't here to give me one of his lectures again. Well, only one way to find out.