Chapter 2 A Bride In Chains

• The Blackwood mansion loomed like a fortress of shadows. Elena sat stiffly in the back of the car as its iron gates creaked open, the sprawling estate stretching beyond in manicured lawns and marble fountains. Yet despite its grandeur, the house carried a chill. The windows were dark, the walls looming high, as though daring anyone to trespass.
• When the car halted at the front steps, two rows of servants bowed in respect as they stood,waiting in silence. Their uniforms were crisp and their expressions were unreadable.No one dared look up due to the kind of aura Damian commands. Damian stepped out first without so much as a glance at her. He walked straight into the mansion.
• Elena hesitated, clutching her dress before following him. The stone steps felt cold even through the thin satin of her heels. She lifted her chin, forcing herself to appear calm, though every nerve screamed that she was walking deeper into a trap.
• A murmur rippled through the servants once she passed.
• “She’s the charity wife.”
• “Poor girl doesn’t know what she’s in for.”
• “Do you think she’ll last longer than the last one?”
• Elena’s stomach twisted. She wanted to ask what they meant, but Damian’s tall figure moved ahead of her without pause, and the servants quickly lowered their eyes as if they hadn’t spoken at all.
• Inside, the house smelled faintly of cedar and old money. A massive chandelier glittered above, its crystals catching dim light like frozen tears. The silence here was not peace—it was suffocating.
• Damian stopped at the bottom of the grand staircase. His voice was as impersonal as ever. “The room is upstairs. Second on the left.”
• Elena blinked.” I can't stay in the same… room ""Not… not with you?” She said nervously.
• His gaze sliced into her, and for a moment she wished she had bitten her tongue. “I told you at the church, didn't I?” he said coolly. “This marriage is nothing but a contract. I don’t share my space with strangers.”
• Her cheeks burned, but she swallowed her pride. There was no use answering the question anyway. He turned away, disappearing down a hall lined with portraits of men who looked just as cold as him.They were each dressed in cloaks wearing skinny hairstyles looking overly ruthless but not as ruthless as their offspring, Damian.
• Elena exhaled shakily and climbed the stairs. The corridor upstairs was dim, the carpet thick enough to muffle her footsteps. She found the room he had assigned to her earlier on. It was really spacious, more luxurious than anything she’d known, with heavy velvet curtains and a king-sized bed. Not really given the kind of aesthetic vibes like her former room, yet it felt more like a gilded cage than a sanctuary.
• She sat on the bed, her hands trembling. On her wedding night, she thought bitterly. A bride, abandoned. A wife in name only.
• If someone had told her that she'll one day be called the name: “Mrs Blackwood”, she'll slap the person hard on the face, even though she's a gentle person.
• A soft knock startled her. She opened the door to find an older woman with sharp eyes but a surprisingly kind expression. Her gray hair was neatly pinned, and she carried herself with quiet dignity.
• “I’m Mrs. Hale,” she introduced herself. “Housekeeper. I oversee the whole staff.”
• Elena nodded quickly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
• Mrs. Hale’s gaze softened. “It won’t be easy here, child. My advice? Keep your head down, don’t ask questions.”
• Elena frowned. “Questions?” “why”
• “ummm…what do you mean?”She asked all at once, confusion written all over her face.
• The woman hesitated, her eyes flickering down the hall. “This house has doors best left closed. Don’t go where you don’t belong.”
• “ I'll take my leave now,Mrs Blackwood” Before Elena could ask more, Mrs. Hale bowed slightly and left.
• That night, Elena couldn’t sleep. The mansion was too quiet and too dark. She tossed beneath the sheets, staring at the ceiling, until a sound drifted faintly through the stillness.
• She lit a candle and stepped closer to the glass.
• For a heartbeat, her reflection wavered. Another face hovered in the depths of the mirror;a woman with hollow eyes, lips parted in warning.
• Elena gasped, stumbling back. The candle nearly toppled. She blinked, and the image was gone.
• Her breath came fast, shallow.
• “Evelyn…” she whispered.
• The candlelight guttered, shadows stretching across the room. Outside, the wind howled through the halls like a mournful voice.
• Elena clutched her locket, her chest tight. The humiliation, the hostility, the warnings;they were only the beginning. She had entered this house as a bride, but already she felt like prey.
• And somewhere in the shadows of Blackwood Manor, Evelyn’s ghost still lingered.
• Then she heard a voice.
• Her pulse quickened. She slipped out of her room, clutching her robe around her, and followed the sound down the corridor. The voice grew clearer with every step until she stopped in front of a door at the far end of the hall.
• It was locked.
• The air around it was colder somehow, a draft seeping from beneath the frame. Elena pressed her ear against the wood, her heart hammering.
• Damian’s voice.
• But it wasn’t sharp or cruel this time. It was low, hoarse, almost tender.
• “This is for you, Mother,” he whispered. “They’ll all pay for what they did to you. I swear it.”
• Elena froze. Her breath caught in her throat. Mother? What did he mean?
• Before she could make sense of it, the footsteps inside stopped. The air shifted.
• And then—silence.
• She stumbled back, nearly tripping over the hem of her gown. Her heart raced. She fled to her room, shutting the door quickly as if the shadows themselves might follow her.
• She sat on the edge of the bed, clutching her chest, the echo of Damian’s whisper burning into her mind.
• They’ll all pay.
• “Who's that ?” “ Who was he talking about?”
• And for the first time, Elena wondered if she had married not just a cruel man;but a dangerous one.