New Name, New Home

                                                                          Chapter 3

Freya

Making my way downstairs I started to notice things that didn't stand out before like there were no family pictures on the walls or even trophies as if no one lived here. I want to peek around but I'm scared that I'll get in trouble. There's not much color here; if any there's only neutral colors like browns, whites, and greys even though I may not know what it's like to have a real family you can tell that no good memories were made here. That's a lot coming from me when my mother didn't want me. Things seem way too clean here yeah they're rich but this is entirely way too clean.

Finally getting to the kitchen I'm met with a beautiful woman with brown hair. She can't be any taller than five-eight. You can tell that she keeps up with her maintenance weighing no more than one-thirty at the least. The deep red pencil dress that falls perfectly onto her shoulders next to her fair skin and blue eyes is stunning

"Holy shit you're gorgeous- I say out loud

Oh hello, you must be Freya Myers. I'm Catherine Coldwell. It's a pleasure to meet you, please come and sit down.

From across the kitchen, I hear a very deep male voice. Hello Freya I'm Calvin Coldwell. It's a pleasure to meet you as well as welcome to our home.

Why does that name sound familiar? It can't be that family, right?

Going toward the kitchen table, I stop dead in my tracks there sat the fucking mayor Mr. Calvin Coldwell -tan skin, black hair, and a beard touched with just enough gray to tell that he was older He wore a white collared polo shirt, the top buttons were casually undone, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms that looked like they belonged in a romance novel. Black slacks, sharp jawline, and the kind of presence that made it impossible not to notice him. He was good-looking and knew it. He radiated that "alpha" energy.

"OKAY, I NEED TO CHILL". Note to self I need to stop reading Wolf romance books but once finishing the one I'm currently reading. Freya tell me more about you so that I may get a better understanding of you as a person to see if you're a good fit for our family. Taking in a deep breath "I didn't know this was an interview"-I murmured

"Yes, well... we'll have to see if you can stand with our family."The words are calm, but there's something sharp beneath them - like a test I didn't know I was already taking.

"In a soft voice umm I'm eight-teen I've always been a very peculiar child. I say out loud I always found the world enjoyable through the eyes of others because mine was always colorless. No family? He asks, I do a slight laugh. My mother was a whore so who knows maybe. There's an awkward silence in the air for a second finally looking up from my lap and seeing Mr Coldwell staring at me with a slight smile on his face but it doesn't quite reach his cheeks it's something else entirely that I can't put my finger on like he's fascinated with me. Pushing some of my curls behind my ear trying to take the attention off of me.

"I was told that you have sons that might be around my age- I say out loud".

Yes, we do but nowhere are they close to your age. Oh, so they are younger than me? Nixon and Mason are older in their early twenties, he says. When will I have a chance to meet them? Mr. Coldwell sits back in his dining chair and places his hand alongside his jawline as if he's trying to figure out what words he wants to use. For a moment I forgot that Mrs Cathrine was sitting at the end of the table as well looking over to the right of me. She sat motionless, playing with the silverware in a daze, her fingers tracing the edge of a spoon while her eyes stared past the table and into nothing.

Freya brings my attention back to him. Let's talk about the important things: you are allowed to go any place in this house except for the west wing. Do you hear me?

Yes, I reply. Good because I don't like to repeat myself.

I don't have any other rules he says. He reaches into his pocket, pulls a deep brown leather wallet out, and hands me a black card. This is the card that you will use to get any necessities that you might need or want. Mr Coldwell tilts his head, arching an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest like I'd just insulted him to his face.

I freeze, unsure what expression I'm wearing - surprise, guilt, defiance? Maybe all three. My mouth opens, then closes again, words stuck somewhere between my throat and my pride. Not wanting to take anything more from this man because everything comes with a price plus interest. So no thank you

he takes my wrist within his hands placing the card directly in my hands which makes me jerk away but his grip tightens around my wrist stopping me from moving as I was saying Freya use this card as you see fit there is no limit on there-no I can't take something like this I'm fine with what I have and what exactly is that he says because Lilith informed me that you only arrived with a tiny bag filled with barely anything

"Not knowing how to reply, I bit my lip without even realizing it. He moved so fast it caught me off guard-his thumb brushed gently over my bottom lip. My eyes widened."Don't do that," he said, pulling away, voice low."I'm sorry," I murmured. "I tend to do that when I get nervous."He looked at me for a long second, unreadable. "Guess we're going to have to break that bad habit, then."

Before I could respond, the door creaked open and Lilith walked in, pushing a silver cart. The quiet clatter of porcelain and cutlery filled the silence as she began placing dinner plates on the table.

I forgot to ask Miss Myers but do you eat beef? On the plate was mashed potato's steak that was cooked medium rare with an easy over egg, and green beans topped with a white sauce.

"I wouldn't say yes or no because I've never had it before but I would love to try it"-

Going forward you must get used to this type of food plus more being a part of this family we have an image to protect. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his eyes even though every instinct screamed to look away. My fingers curled into the fabric of my sleeves under the table, trying to ground myself. I hated how small I felt - but unsure at the same time.

The whole time at dinner, no one spoke.

An off feeling hung in the air - thick, unspoken, and hard to ignore. The clinking of cutlery felt louder than it should've, like each sound cut into the quiet. Then, breaking the silence, I heard Mr. Coldwell scoot back his chair. The legs scraped against the floor with a low groan as he stood.

"I have other affairs to attend to," he said, his voice measured, distant. "So I'll be leaving first."

He didn't wait for a response - just turned and walked out, leaving the weight of his presence behind like a shadow that lingered in the room.

There we sat - Mrs. Catherine and I - in silence thick enough to drown in. I kept debating whether I should stand and leave, but the stillness felt like it stretched on for a thousand years.

Finally, she rose, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress with slow, practiced movements - like someone who had done this a hundred times before.

I hesitated for a beat, then pushed my chair back to stand. We stared into each other's eyes - unmoving, unspeaking. Then, slowly, she leaned down, her breath brushing the side of my face as she whispered: "You never should've stepped foot in this house. Word of advice, girl - not everything still shines when the lights go out."My mouth parted, but no words came out. She waited for a reply - patient, expectant - but what could I have possibly said to that?

I watched her back as she turned and walked away, disappearing down the hall. I wanted to ask questions, to scream for answers, but I was stuck - frozen in place, trying to catch my breath.

Had I just signed my name on the dotted line for the devil himself?

They say you can pray all you want... but you never really know who might answer that call wanting a family - just someone to care - had landed me in a situation I might not be able to walk away from.

I pulled some clothes out of my bag, just enough to change into after a shower. Stripping down to nothing but my birthday suit, I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the water.

Steam filled the room, around the mirror, swallowing everything within sight. I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water crash over me, soaking my hair, and my skin. I stood there with my head under the spray, hoping the water could wash away the heaviness of today - the fear, the doubt, the feeling that I'd just made a deal I couldn't take back.

Later that night, the house was silent. Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the kind that makes your skin prickle - like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the unfamiliar softness of the mattress beneath me almost too much. The sheets smelled like lavender and linen - clean, untouched.

I turned over, pulling the blanket tighter around myself. My Kindle sat untouched on the nightstand. Normally I'd lose myself in a book, but tonight, not even words could comfort me.

A floorboard creaked somewhere in the hallway. A breath caught in my throat. It could've been the house settling... or it could've been someone moving.

I listened.

Nothing.

Still, I got up and checked that my door was locked. It was. But before crawling back into bed, I decided to get a glass of water. The cold floor sent a chill through the soles of my feet as I walked quietly, doing my best not to make a sound.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I noticed a soft light glowing from the kitchen. Low voices echoed through the hallway, but I couldn't quite make out what they were saying from where I stood. I crept closer, careful with each step, until I was just outside the kitchen door.

Mr. Coldwell's voice came through now - sharp, angry, and laced with irritation."The filming crew will be here on Monday, so your asses better be here by tomorrow," he snapped. "Or I'm cutting both of you off."Two other male voices crackled through the phone, talking over each other in frustration. One of them bit back, "I don't give a fuck about keeping up your little charade-" Before I could hear more, Mr. Coldwell suddenly turned. I froze. His footsteps moved toward the door, slow and steady. My heart thudded against my ribcage, panic rising in my throat. A voice inside my head screamed: Run. Now. Because if I got caught eavesdropping, I had a feeling it wouldn't end with a simple lecture. I bolted, my footsteps light but fast, making it to my room just in time. I shut the door, locked it, and backed away, pressing my body against the wood like it could keep whatever danger was out there from getting in. Still, that feeling lingered - like something was watching me. Like something was waiting, just beyond the silence. I crawled back into bed, pulling the covers tight against my chest, trying to steady my breathing. My eyes locked on the door, half-expecting the knob to turn but nothing ever happened. 

Waking up the next morning, to the sun shining in my face and the sound of feet shuffling on the floor and people talking outside the door. Wiping my eyes being disoriented where I was for a brief moment. I must have self consciously moved to the floor last night, because the bed was too soft but I still slept amazingly.

There's a stern but soft knock at the door catching my attention pulling me awake.

I hear Lilith on the other side asking to come in, I stood up crossing the room to let her in unlocking the door. She greets me with a bright small smile as she takes the room in behind me looking at the bed then the floor, seeing some pillows and the blanket on the floor.

Was the bed not comfortable ?she asked —giving me a concerned look.

NO— it was perfect I said quickly. It's just that I've never slept in a bed so soft that it made me feel a little uncomfortable. I murmured—

Lilith steps closer shorting the distance between us taking her hand placing it on the bottom of my chin pulling it up so that we make eye contact. Freyra I'm not sure what you had to endure before coming here but it's okay to feel safe and get comfortable here no one is going to make you leave. This is your new home.

Feeling the comfort of her presence, I let myself relax—just for a moment. It felt okay to be vulnerable, to not have to brace for the worst

Lilith gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping back

"Freya, I came to see if you were awake—and to let you know it's time to get ready and come downstairs," she said with a warm, encouraging tone.

I'll be down in a second— I say

Lilith gave me another small smile before walking down the hallway hearing her footsteps slowly disappearing leaving me to get ready for the day. I do a long stretch with my hands going towards the ceiling doing a soft yawn, heading straight into the bathroom. Feeling the cold tiles on the bottom of my feet the realization is finally settling in that I'm no longer the girl living in Massachusetts in an orphanage.

Letting the cool warm water run over my face, chasing away the last traces of sleep. I patted my skin dry with a soft towel, running my fingers through my hair, trying to tame my curls into something presentable.

Slipping into a pair of ripped denim blue jeans and a cropped sweater and my converse —something familiar, comfortable, something that felt like me. It wasn't anything fancy, but it made me feel steady. Ready.

One last glance in the mirror, a deep breath, and I stepped out of the bathroom, heading toward whatever was waiting downstairs.