Chapter 5

You Are Not Buying Me Off

Someone knocked.

Elara turned toward the sound, Her fingers lingered at the clasp of the gold locket around her neck—the only thing in this estate that felt like hers.She hadn’t moved much since she’d entered the room — just paced the room like a restless ghost.

 The knock came again, softer this time. Not urgent. Just… waiting.

She exhaled and stepped toward the door, slowly opening the door.

When she opened it, she didn’t find Adrian.

It was a maid. Young. Wide-eyed. Her uniform was crisp, her hair tucked into a perfect bun. Her hands were folded politely in front of her, and her voice was soft.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.”

Elara blinked. Ma’am. That still felt foreign.

The maid continued. “Mr. Wolfe asked that I bring you lunch and assist you with anything you might need.”

Elara blinked. Mr. Wolfe. It felt strange hearing him called that. It shouldn’t. It was his name. But somehow it felt like a title too heavy for someone she still barely understood.

”I—uh… come in,” she said, stepping aside.

The maid entered and placed a silver tray on the small glass table by the window — croissants, fruits, coffee, and something that smelled like cinnamon.

Elara watched her work for a moment She looked barely younger than Elara

before finally asking, folding her arms.

“What’s your name?”

“Genevieve, ma’am.”

“Oh please call me Elara,” she corrected gently. I’m not used to being called anything formal.

Genevieve nodded shyly. “Yes, Elara.”

There was a pause as the maid adjusted a vase of flowers — stark white roses that felt too perfect, too hollow.

 Silence fell. Elara didn’t know what to ask first. Everything around her was unfamiliar. She felt like she’d been dropped into someone else’s life without instructions.

“Is this wing always this… quiet?”

“Yes,” Genevieve replied, smoothing her skirt. This is Mr. Wolfe’s private wing. Only a few staff are permitted here. Most of the estate is run from the main wing.

“Is it just the two of us here?”

Genevieve hesitated. “For now, yes. Mr. Wolfe has a meeting later today, and I believe Mr. Julian will arrive soon with some documents.”

“And the rest of the house? Is it always this… formal?”

Genevieve smiled faintly. “In this wing, yes. Mr. Wolfe values silence. Most of the house is much livelier — the main kitchen, the gardens, the staff quarters. But here…”

It’s just… structured. Mr. Wolfe prefers order.”

Elara sighed. “Of course he does.It’s like a museum in here, Elara said, finishing her thought aloud.

Genevieve giggled softly, then quickly apologized. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No, you’re right,” Elara said. It doesn’t feel lived in.

She paused, then asked more gently, “And you? How long have you worked here?”.

“Two years,” Genevieve said. I started before Mr. Wolfe’s grandfather passed. He took over shortly after.

Elara nodded, filing that away. There were still so many missing pieces. So many versions of Adrian Wolfe she hadn’t met yet.

Genevieve hesitated. “Mr. Wolfe doesn’t let many people in this wing. He keeps it private.”

“Does he live alone?”

“Yes… well, before now.” Her eyes flicked up, cautious. “I mean, before you.”

Elara walked over to the tray, picking at a croissant but not eating. So what should I know? About this place. How it runs. Who’s who.

Genevieve stepped a little closer, lowering her voice like someone sharing a secret. 

Mr. Julian is his legal advisor — he handles most of the public matters. There’s Cain, the head of security, and Mrs Harris who manages household affairs. Everyone reports to her.

“And Adrian? What does he do?”

The maid hesitated. “Everything. And nothing. He’s… very involved, but also very distant. He gives orders, but rarely explains them. He’s fair, though. Strict, but not cruel.”

Elara raised a brow. “That’s high praise.”

“I think he’s lonely,” Genevieve added quietly. “But no one says that out loud.”

Before Elara could respond, another knock came — firm and deliberate.

Genevieve immediately straightened. “That will be Mr. Wolfe.”

And like a cue in a play, the door opened.

Adrian entered, dressed in dark slacks and a navy blue shirt , sleeves rolled up, the first two buttons undone. Effortless. Controlled. But his eyes were sharp ,that somehow made him look even more untouchable. His gaze swept the room before landing on Elara. It lingered.

“You slept?” he asked

She folded her arms. “Nah.”

His eyes flicked to Genevieve. “You may go.”

The maid curtsied quickly and all but disappeared.

Now it was just the two of them again. This time in daylight. This time married.

Adrian walked toward the table and picked up an apple slice. “Have you eaten?”

“I’ve looked at it,” she replied dryly. Does that count?

“You’ll need your strength. There’s a lot of ground to cover today.”

Elara folded her arms. “Is this where you give me the grand tour? Or am I just supposed to stay in here like a bird in a cage?”

His gaze met hers. You can go wherever you want. No one will stop you.

 He sat in one of the armchairs. “You’re only getting a briefing. This house has rules.”

“Of course it does.”

“You can roam where you like, but stay within the estate’s boundaries. Don’t speak to the press. Don’t invite anyone here without clearance. And if anyone asks about us—”

“They won’t,” she interrupted. “I’m not exactly popular.”

He studied her face for a moment. “Still. This marriage stays private. For now.”

She sat across from him, resting her elbows on her knees. “Because of your enemies?”

He gave a slow nod. “And yours.”

Her throat tightened.

“She looked up again. “You’re serious about letting me continue acting?”

“Yes. Under one condition.”

“Let me guess: no press, no publicity, no scandals.”

“No threats to the Wolfe image,” he corrected. You want a stage? Build one. But do it quietly. Stay out of the media. No drama. No attention.

She tilted her head. “Until I’m worth the Wolfe name?”

“No,” he said simply. Until I’ve cleared the ones trying to ruin it.

That'll work for me,She said.But there was something raw in the way he said it. Tired. Like a man waging a war no one else could see.

“I asked Genevieve about the house,” she said. “It’s quiet. Formal. Cold.”

He shrugged. “It’s functional.”

“That’s one word for it.”

Adrian gave a small tilt of his head, almost amused. “You have a way of making everything sound like a challenge.”

“Maybe because everything with you feels like one.”

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black card. “This is for your use. Anything you need. Clothes. Art supplies. Books. Tutors. Whatever you want.”

She stared at it, then took it slowly.

“You’re not buying me off,” she said.

“I know.”

“You’re not what I expected,” she murmured.

“I’m not trying to be.”

She sat back in the chair. “And what do you expect from me?”

He didn’t answer at first. Just stood, walked to the window, then spoke without turning.

“Loyalty. Discretion. And if it’s not too much—survival.”

He turned to leave, then paused at the door. Genevieve will show you the house when you’re ready. You’ll have access to the library, indoor pool, garden, and the training room.

“Training room?”

“For self-defense.”

Elara blinked.

“You’re a Wolfe now,” he said without turning around. “I suggest you learn how to protect yourself.”

She almost smiled , not at the words, but at the way he said them. Like someone who cared but didn’t know how to show it.

Then he was gone.

And Elara was left alone, staring at the card in her hand and the door he’d just walked through.

It was neither a cage. Not a home. Not yet.

But maybe something in between.