"Today is my first morning as Mrs. Valtieri," I whispered to myself, staring at my reflection in the tall mirror."
The bed was too big, the room too cold. Even the sunlight that slipped through the curtains felt like it didn't belong to me.
I brushed my hair, tied it neatly, and opened my small suitcase. The dresses I brought looked nothing like the ones I wore in my uncle's place, before I left there Samantha gave me some of her used clothes. I picked the nicest one I had, light blue, simple, soft cotton. It made me feel a little more like me.
I took a deep breath before stepping out of the room.
The hallway stretched forever. My footsteps echoed. Every door looked the same, every corner screamed beauty. It was strange to be in a place so alive yet so dead at the same time.
Downstairs, a young maid straightened when she saw me.
"Mrs. Valtieri," she stammered, bowing slightly. Her name tag read Ann.
"Please don't call me that," I said quickly. "Just Rose."
Her eyes widened. "I can't, ma'am. Mr. Valtieri doesn't like when we…"
"It's fine," I forced a smile. "Is… is he home?"
Ann shook her head. "He hasn't left yet, ma'am. Breakfast is ready, would you like me to serve you?"
"Yes, please."
She led me into the dining hall, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The table was long enough to fit twenty people.
I sat in one of the seats , trying not to look lost. Ann placed a plate in front of me, toasted bread with eggs, fruit, and something that smelled too rich to touch.
"Ann," I asked softly, "does Mr. Valtieri usually eat breakfast?"
She hesitated. "Hardly ever, ma'am. Mr. Valtieri… works a lot. He doesn't eat much. Mr. Clark says he only drinks coffee."
"Clark?" I blinked.
"The butler, ma'am. He's right behind you."
I turned, startled. The man standing by the doorway bowed slightly. Older, neatly dressed, with eyes that missed nothing.
"Good morning, Mrs. Valtieri," he said in a calm, low voice.
"Good morning, Mr. Clark," I murmured. "Will Mr. Valtieri be joining us?"
Clark shook his head. "He rarely does. He's not the kind who enjoys conversation in the morning."
"Oh." I looked down at my plate. "Right."
"Would you prefer coffee or tea, ma'am?" Ann asked gently.
"Tea," I whispered.
The silence after that was too heavy. Even the clinking of my spoon felt too loud.
I was halfway through my meal when I heard footsteps slow, steady, and heavy, echoing across the floor.
Ann's back straightened immediately, and Clark stepped aside. My heart started beating too fast.
Liam appeared at the sitting rom, dressed in a black suit, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked like power itself. Cold and Untouchable.
He didn't say anything at first. His eyes traveled from the table to me then stopped.
That look. The same one he gave me yesterday, Sharp. Unforgiving.
I froze, holding my spoon midair.
He walked closer, his shoes tapping lightly against the floor until he stood a few feet away from me.
"What are you wearing?" His voice was low but it cut through me.
I looked down at myself, confused. "I… just one of my dresses…"
"This?" He frowned, eyes narrowing. "You think you can walk around my house like this?"
My lips parted. "I didn't mean… I just.."
"Stop," he said quietly, almost too calmly. That tone was worse than shouting.
I lowered my gaze, hands trembling.
He reached into his jacket, pulled out a sleek black card, and dropped it on the table beside my plate. The sound was sharp against the glass.
"Take this," he said. "Buy what you need. Clothes. Shoes. Whatever you think makes you look like a Valtieri."
"I…I don't need…"
He cut me off. "I didn't ask if you needed it."
I swallowed hard. "Thank you," I whispered.
His jaw twitched. "You'll address me properly when I'm speaking to you."
I nodded quickly. "Thank you, Mr. Valtieri."
His gaze lingered on me for one last second. Then he looked at Clark. "I'll be at the office till late. Don't disturb me unless it's urgent."
"Yes, sir," Clark replied.
Liam turned to leave, but paused halfway. "And tell someone to take her shopping. I don't want my wife to look like a charity case."
My throat burned, but I forced myself to stay still.
He didn't look back as he walked away. The sound of the front doors closing echoed like thunder through the empty hall.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then a soft voice broke the silence. "He's… something, isn't he?"
I turned and saw Matilda Valtieri standing near the doorway, her lips curled in that sweet smile that wasn't really sweet at all.
"Good morning, Mrs. Valtieri," she said smoothly. "Or should I say… poor little Rose Carter."
My stomach tightened. "Good morning," I said politely, even though my voice came out small.
She stepped closer, her perfume sharp and expensive. "You should be grateful, you know. Most girls would die to be in your place."
"I didn't ask for this," I said before I could stop myself.
Matilda laughed, a cold, musical sound. "Oh, darling, no one asks for Liam. You're simply what his grandmother wanted. A name to calm the press, a puppet to keep the family image clean."
I looked away, blinking fast. "I'm not a puppet."
She tilted her head. "No? Then tell me, what will you do when he doesn't come home for weeks? When the world gossip that your husband is sleeping with other woman instead of you?"
Her words hit her harder than she thought.
"I'll manage," I said quietly.
"Manage," she repeated, smiling wider. "How brave."
She leaned in close, her voice dropping. "Let me give you some advice, my dear. Don't ever make the mistake of falling in love with him. He's incapable of love. And if you ever think you can change him…" she paused, her smile turning cruel, "…you'll end up just like the last woman who tried."
I frowned. "The last woman?"
Her eyes sparkled with mock pity. "Ask his grandmother… if she'll ever tell you."
Matilda turned gracefully and walked out, her heels clicking in rhythm with my pounding heart.
Ann quietly gathered the plates, avoiding my eyes.
"Ann," I said softly. "Was she telling the truth? About… the last woman?"
The maid froze for a second. Her eyes flickered up to me, then away again.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," she whispered. "We're not allowed to talk about that."
And before I could ask another question, she hurried off toward the kitchen.
I sat there alone, staring at the untouched card Liam had left behind. His name L. Valtieris written in silver against the black.
For a moment, I thought about tearing it in half. But then I heard Matilda's words echo in my head.
Don't fall in love with him.
I took the card and slipped it into my pocket.
"Don't worry," I whispered to myself. "I won't."