Chapter 2 Serving Time

• ELARA
• I balanced the silver tray in both hands as carefully as I could, afraid it would tremble and betray me. The stemmed glasses clinked softly with each step I took. The laughter echoing from the lounge was loud, shrill, and carried that sharp edge of cruelty I had learned to recognize.
• I stopped at the double doors and inhaled once, twice. Then I pushed them open.
• They didn’t notice me at first. Mateo’s low, rumbling voice carried over the soft hum of music, and then her laugh followed—high and sharp, like a bird’s cry. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I kept my eyes down, careful not to draw attention.
• “Ah, the little wife,” the woman said when I stepped into view.
• I didn’t need to look at her to know what she looked like. They all looked the same: tall, glamorous, dripping with confidence I would never have. She lounged across the sofa, her legs stretched out across Mateo’s lap as if she owned the place, a wine-red dress clinging to her curves.
• Mateo sat there like a king on his throne, one arm draped along the back of the sofa, his expression unreadable. He barely looked up when I approached.
• “Don’t just stand there, wife,” the woman said sweetly, though her eyes were knives. “I’m parched.”
• I forced a small, practiced smile and held out the tray. “Of course.”
• She reached for a glass of wine, then glanced at my hands and smirked. “You’re shaking. Are you afraid of me?”
• “No,” I said softly, though my voice betrayed me.
• “Hmm.” She turned her head toward Mateo, nestling closer to him. “She’s pretty in a… delicate way, isn’t she?”
• Mateo didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He simply took the glass from my tray and handed it to her himself, dismissing me with a flick of his hand as if I were one of the staff.
• The tray felt heavier in that moment, as if the weight of my humiliation had settled there.
• I stepped back, careful not to trip over the edge of the rug. My bare feet were silent against the polished floor, but their laughter followed me as I retreated.
• “Does she ever talk?” the woman asked, her voice loud enough for me to hear.
• “Only when I tell her to,” Mateo replied, and their laughter rolled together like smoke.
• My stomach knotted, but I didn’t let myself react. I simply lowered my head, turned, and left the room as gracefully as I could manage.
• ---
• The hallway outside the lounge was dim, lit only by the golden sconces along the walls. I passed one of the guards—dark suit, harder eyes—and kept walking until I reached the kitchen.
• A young maid looked up when I entered. “Mrs. Navarro?” she whispered, her eyes darting behind me as if afraid Mateo would follow.
• “I’m fine,” I said, setting the tray on the counter. “Thank you.”
• She hesitated, then gave me a small, pitying smile and turned back to her work.
• I hated that look.
• I hated it because it made me feel like a ghost in my own body, like everyone could see through me, could see how little I mattered.
• I climbed the stairs slowly, trailing my fingers along the cool wooden railing. The mansion was silent on the upper floors, the kind of silence that pressed on your ears. I passed closed doors—guest rooms, locked storage rooms, hallways that led nowhere.
• I reached my bedroom and shut the door behind me, leaning against it as my chest rose and fell.
• The room was beautiful. Cream-colored walls, soft gold accents, a canopy bed big enough for two. But it wasn’t mine. None of it was.
• I crossed the room to the vanity and sat down, staring at my reflection.
• The ring on my finger gleamed under the soft light. A thin band of platinum, heavy with diamonds. It caught the light and scattered it across the walls, mocking me.
• I touched the ring and tried to remember the moment it had been placed on my finger. But I couldn’t. The ceremony blurred together in my mind: the whispered vows, the strangers watching, Mateo’s cold hand in mine.
• A small part of me had hoped—stupidly—that he might be different once the guests were gone. That the man I had married might look at me, see me. But he hadn’t.
• He never did.
• I stood and crossed the room to the window, pulling the curtains back just enough to see the grounds below.
• The mansion stretched wide and imposing, surrounded by high walls and iron gates. Guards patrolled the perimeter like shadows, their guns slung across their chests.
• There was no way out.
• Not yet.
• I closed the curtains and moved to the bed, sitting on the edge with my hands clasped tightly in my lap.
• The muffled laughter from downstairs reached me even here. I wondered if Mateo would come to me tonight.
• Part of me hoped he wouldn’t.
• ---
• Hours passed before I heard footsteps in the hallway. My breath caught, and I stared at the door as the handle turned.
• But it wasn’t Mateo. It was one of the staff—a maid carrying fresh linens.
• “Mrs. Navarro,” she said softly, lowering her gaze as if afraid to meet my eyes.
• “Yes?”
• “Would you like me to turn down the bed for you?”
• I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’ll do it myself.”
• She hesitated, then nodded and left, shutting the door behind her.
• The silence returned, heavier now.
• I rose and crossed the room, checking the lock on the door. It clicked into place, but it didn’t comfort me. Not when Mateo could open it any time he wanted.
• I stepped back and looked around the room—the vanity, the bed, the wardrobe, the window.
• Then I opened the wardrobe and stepped inside, closing the door just enough to let a sliver of light in.
• I had no reason to be there, not really. But something about the small, enclosed space calmed me.
• I pressed my back against the wall and listened to the silence.
• This wasn’t my home.
• This wasn’t my life.
• But if I was going to survive, I needed to know every inch of this house. Every locked door. Every hallway. Every shadow.
• I closed my eyes and pictured the layout I had memorized so far: the lounge, the kitchen, the staircase, the hallways that branched off like veins.
• One day, I told myself.
• One day, I will know this house better than he does.
• One day, I won’t be the one serving drinks while they laugh.
• The laughter downstairs faded eventually, replaced by the heavy silence of a house gone still.
• I slipped out of the wardrobe and padded to the bed.
• I didn’t bother turning off the light.
• I lay down and stared at the ceiling until my eyes burned, my fingers brushing the ring on my hand.
• It felt heavier tonight.
• Like a chain.
• But chains could be broken.
• And when mine finally shattered, I promised myself Mateo Navarro would be the one bleeding from the cuts.