Chapter 6: Gilded Cages

Damien’s voice sliced through the silence like a blade. "Are you seriously asking me this?"

Noah met his gaze, her expression steady. "It’s just a question, Damien."

The tension between them was tangible, the air thick with unspoken words. After a beat, Damien broke the silence, his tone dripping with icy indifference. "A word of advice: before signing a contract, read each clause carefully."

Noah frowned, intrigued by the sudden shift in his demeanor. "What do you mean?"

"It was in the contract," Damien replied, eyes flicking back to his phone, as if the matter was trivial. "You’ll live with me after the wedding. It’s all there.”

Not saying another word, she returned her attention to the mansion before her.

But amidst all its beauty, there was something tangibly cold about the place. It didn't feel like a home to Noah, some place where people would go to keep close to others; To her, it felt like it had been designed to keep people at arm's length from it. She swallowed hard as the car came to a stop in front of the entrance, her nerves hiking as the reality set in.

Damien did not wait for her to sort her head out, neither did he. He got out of the car and walked toward the front door; his walk was confident and unhurried, like he had done this a thousand times. She followed him in the shadow of this grand estate, feeling small and out of place.

The door opened well before they could reach it, and Noah noticed a somber looking man in a crisp, black suit who greeted them. She studied him for a while as his hair was silver, combed back from his forehead with precision, and his face was etched with lines formed from years of service and discipline. He exuded an air of authority: his postures so rigid, his eyes sharp to assess the both of them.

How do you do, Mrs. Anderson," he said formally, with a slight bow of respect. "I am Mr. Williams, head butler. Should you need anything while you are here, please ask.” He added.

His tone was polite, but yet felt like a distance to Noah, as though he were reading from the lines of some sort of script. She gave a small smile, hoping to conceal her unease. "Thank you, Mr. Williams. I appreciate it." She replied 

But Damien didn't even acknowledge the butler, striding past him wordlessly, as if it were beneath him to continue the conversation. She watched him disappear deeper into the mansion, at that moment, she felt a pang against her chest again. It wasn't his coldness that bothered her; it was how he dismissed her completely, like she didn't exist at all.

This way, ma'am," Mr. Williams said, tugging her attention back to him. "I'll be showing you to your room.

Nodding, she followed him inside; her footsteps echoed in the large marble-floored foyer. Impressive as the outside had been, the interior of this mansion did not disappoint Noah, with its high ceilings, glittering chandeliers, and walls lined with expensive works of art. 

Everything was immaculate-from the high-gloss woodwork to the thick pile carpets-but it all felt so formal to her and she knew that she did not belong there, she felt that she was in some kind of interloper, in a world where she most likely would never fit in.

As they walked down the great hallways, Noah couldn't help but notice the staff, as they passed on their way. They were all immaculately attired; their movements economical and quick. Yet, she felt there was something in the aspect of their eyes that unsettled her. No smiles, no friendly, welcoming gestures such as she might have expected when being brought into a new home. Instead, they watched her with a cool curiosity-unreadable yet definitely not friendly.

Up a wide, sweeping staircase to the second floor, he led her, where doors lined each wall and a heavy carpet deadened the sound of their footsteps. Noah felt the thickness in the air, with the scent of fresh flowers, yet underlying it, she felt there was that incipient mustiness of a house that stood more as a museum than home.

Finally, they stopped in front of a set of double doors at the far end of the hall. Mr. Williams unlocked them and stepped aside, allowing her inside. "This will be your room, Mrs. Anderson. Your luggage has already been brought up." He informed.

She stepped inside into a room that was less than magnificent. It was huge, with high ceilings and tall windows through which streams of soft, natural light flowed. The walls were painted a delicate shade of cream and accented with gold trim, the floors rich dark wood glowing beneath the light of an elegant chandelier. In the center of the room, a stately, four-poster bed dominated, draped across with luxurious silk curtains, piled high with pillows and blankets until it was almost too pristine to touch.

A seating area was arranged near the windows with plush armchairs and a coffee table set with a vase of fresh roses. Opposite the bed was a large fireplace; its mantel was decorated with delicate porcelain figurines and a gilded mirror which reflected the entire room in its polished surface. From the patterns on the rugs to the fine lace edging the curtains, everything was well thought out. It was, in short, the kind of room that fit a palace, not a house.

Yet amidst all this beauty, To Noah, there was something cold about the room, and she, somehow, felt more like a guest in it rather than a resident. It was too perfectly done, impersonal; felt arranged for a show rather than comfort. And she couldn't ever picture herself at home there.

"This is Ella," said Mr. Williams, turning her attention to a girl that had just appeared in the doorway. Noah carefully observed her. She was tiny and thin, with dark hair pulled back into a neat bun and wide, brown eyes sparkling with a warmth Noah definitely hadn't seen in anyone else here. "She will be your personal maid during your stay." He added.

Ella came forward and a small, shy smile crossed her lips. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Anderson. If there's anything you need, please let me know."

"Thank you, Ella," She replied, smiling back at her. There was something quite genuine about her, and that made Noah to feel just a little bit more at ease.

Mr. Williams nodded in approval. "I'll leave you to get settled, ma'am. If you require anything, please do not hesitate to ask.

With that, he bowed and turned to leave the room, clicking the doors shut behind him with a soft click. Noah just stood there for a moment or two, taking in the silence, the grandeur, and the strange, lingering unease in the air.

"Would you like me to help you unpack?" Ella asked, her tone soft, almost hesitant.

"No, that's all right," She replied, forcing a smile. "I think I'll just take a minute to sit down."

Ella nodded. "As you wish, ma'am. I shall wait outside in case you should require anything."

She turned toward the door, but before she could reach it, Noah detained her. "Ella?"

"Yes, ma'am?" She faced her once more, her eyes clouded with concern.

Is. is everything all right here?" Noah ventured, trying to hold her voice steady. "It's just a bit. I don't know. strange."

Ella hesitated. Flickers of something-she was afraid, perhaps, or uncertain-crossed her face. She opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to change her mind. "It's just. it's a big house, ma'am. It can take some getting used to.

Noah nodded, probably a little too slowly. She wasn't quite convinced yet. "Of course. Thanks Ella." She replied 

She smiled again-although not quite reaching her eyes-then turned and left the room, leaving Noah to her own thoughts.

Noah went to the window and looked out at the grounds below-the immaculately manicured grounds, the glittering fountain, the silhouette of the city skyline so many miles away. It was beautiful, even breathtaking, but to her, it didn't feel right 

She couldn't help but think that something was off about the place. The mansion was too big and the people inside it too distant. Even Ella, with her warm smile, seemed to be hiding something. And then there was Damien, who had barely said a word to her since they arrived, who had left her there in the mansion, without so much as a backward glance.

It felt quite uneasy to Noah, she had just gotten to her supposedly “new home" and this feeling only grew worse as the hours passed. The staff staring at her coldly, didn't help either.

She knew she didn't belong there. And probably wasn't welcome. It was too perfect. Too cold.

Still staring outside the window, the fountain sparkled in the moonlight, the city skyline visible in the distance. It was a beautiful view, but it felt more like a gilded cage than a sanctuary.

This was no home.