Twisted Vows, Hidden Desire

Chapter 14: The House of Pretenses



The limousine arrived at the grand Blake estate, it stood like a fortress against the setting sun. Its pristine white walls reflected the golden glow of dusk, and the neatly trimmed hedges lined the driveway with military precision. The mansion's large windows gave it an air of openness, but to Amelia, it felt more like a cage.

As she stepped inside, the scent of fresh lavender and polished wood filled the air. The high ceilings loomed above her, and the marble floors clicked under her heels with each step. Her eyes swept over the space — minimalist design, sharp corners, and shades of gray, white, and black. Everything looked expensive but cold, like a house that belonged in a magazine, not a home.

Her gaze shifted to Eleanor Blake, Ethan's mother, who stood at the base of the grand staircase with a smile too polished to be sincere. Her beige blouse was perfectly tucked into her silk pants, and a string of pearls hung around her neck like a symbol of silent authority.

"Welcome home, dear," Eleanor said, arms stretched as though she intended to hug Amelia. She didn't. Instead, she tilted her head and scanned Amelia like a jeweler appraising a diamond.

"Thank you, Mrs. Blake," Amelia replied, her voice firm but polite.

"Eleanor," the older woman corrected, her smile sharpening. "We're family now."

Family. The word felt foreign on Amelia's tongue, but she nodded anyway. "Of course, Eleanor."

From behind her, Ethan strolled in, loosening his tie. He glanced at his mother and gave her a small nod.

"Where's Dad?" Ethan asked, his voice flat but respectful.

"In his study," Eleanor replied. "He's been waiting to speak with you."

Ethan sighed, clearly annoyed. "Of course he has."

Amelia's eyes darted between them. They talk like this every day. Calculated words. Silent power struggles. Am I supposed to fit into this too?

"Dinner will be ready soon," Eleanor said, her gaze settling on Amelia once more. "I'm sure you'll want to freshen up. Ethan, show your wife to the master bedroom."

Her eyes lingered on Amelia a second too long before she turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the marble like the ticking of a clock.

---

The bedroom was bigger than Amelia's entire apartment. A king-sized bed with crisp white sheets sat at the center of the room, flanked by two identical nightstands with silver lamps. There was a walk-in closet to the left, its sliding glass doors reflecting the soft glow of the room's ambient lights. Across from the bed, a massive flat-screen TV hung on the wall, and next to it, floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

She dropped her purse on a velvet armchair and let out a long breath. "This place feels like a hotel," she muttered, walking toward the windows.

"Hotels are warmer," Ethan replied, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest.

Her eyes met his in the reflection of the window.

"Do you always talk in riddles?" she asked.

He gave her a small shrug. "Do you always ask questions you already know the answer to?"

Her lips twitched into a faint smirk. Touché.

Ethan straightened, walking further into the room. He glanced at the bed, then at the empty closet. His gaze lingered on the space for a moment longer than necessary.

" In case we spend the night in this mansion, I'll sleep on the couch," he said, nodding toward the adjacent sitting area with a large gray sofa.

"Good idea," Amelia replied, slipping off her heels and placing them neatly by the armchair. Her bare feet sank into the soft, cream-colored rug. "We're not about to start playing 'happy couple' just because your mom's watching."

"Glad we're on the same page," he said, sitting on the edge of the couch. He leaned forward, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I don't care what our parents want. You do you. I'll do me. We survive this together, but separately."

"Deal," Amelia agreed, her tone as cool as his.

She grabbed her suitcase from the corner and dragged it toward the walk-in closet. The glass doors slid open with a soft swoosh, revealing an entire wall of empty shelves, drawers, and hanging racks. As she unpacked her clothes, she could feel Ethan's eyes on her.

"Something on your mind, Ethan?" she asked, without turning around.

"Yeah," he said, leaning back on the couch. "I was just wondering why you agreed to this."

She pulled out a folded sweater and placed it on the shelf. "Why did you agree?" she countered.

"Simple. My dad made me."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Same."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, there was an understanding between them. No love. No sympathy. Just mutual acknowledgment.

---

The next day, at the dinning table.

The long dining table was set with fine china and silverware. Seated at one end was Henry Blake, Ethan's father, a man with a commanding presence and a face carved from stone. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed back, and his eyes carried the weight of a man used to being obeyed.

Eleanor sat beside him, her smile sharp as ever. Ethan sat to his father's right, and Amelia sat next to Ethan. The arrangement felt too formal, like they were at a business meeting instead of a family dinner.

"Amelia," Henry began, his voice smooth but firm. "How do you like the house so far?"

Her eyes flickered to Ethan before she answered. "It's... beautiful."

"Beautiful, yes," Eleanor said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But it's also functional. Everything in this house serves a purpose, just like every person in it." Her gaze was pointed, sharp like a blade.

"I'm sure Amelia knows how to be useful, Mom," Ethan muttered, his fork stabbing at the salad on his plate.

Henry shot him a glare, but Ethan didn't flinch.

"I hear you run an event planning business," Eleanor continued, turning back to Amelia. "Elite Touch Events, isn't it?"

Amelia's eyes narrowed slightly. Of course, she already knows.

"Yes, I do," Amelia replied, her voice calm. "I handle weddings, corporate events, and private parties. My team and I make sure every event runs smoothly from start to finish."

"Impressive," Eleanor said, her smile more genuine this time. "You'll fit right in here. This family values ambition and hard work."

Amelia simply nodded, recognizing the subtle warning. Stay useful, or you'll be discarded.

---

Later that evening, Amelia and Ethan packed their belongings into the sleek black SUV waiting outside the Blake estate. The engine hummed softly as they pulled out of the long driveway, leaving behind the cold grandeur of Ethan's childhood home.

"Finally," Amelia muttered, leaning her head against the window.

Ethan glanced at her from the driver's seat. "You really hate it that much?"

"Doesn't feel like home," she replied. "Just a pretty cage."

He gave a dry chuckle, eyes fixed on the road. "You'll get used to it."

An hour later, they arrived at their marital home — a modern, two-story house nestled in a quiet, upscale neighborhood. It was simpler than the Blake estate but far from modest. The soft glow of porch lights illuminated the sleek exterior, and large glass windows hinted at the warmth within.

"This one's ours," Ethan said, cutting the engine.

Amelia stepped out, gazing up at the house. It was still big, still too grand for her liking, but it felt... different. Less like a museum. More like a canvas she could shape.

As they entered, Ethan tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. "Your room's upstairs, second door on the left. I'll be on the other side."

"Noted," she replied, wheeling her suitcase behind her.

The air smelled fresh, untouched. Like a place waiting for life to begin. She walked up the stairs, her gaze sweeping over the clean, neutral tones of the walls and floors. It was quiet but not suffocating.

For now, that was enough.

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