Chapter 8
Colson took my hand, his grip firm and unyielding as he led me out of his office.
The tension between us had shifted, no longer just an agreement on paper but something that felt much heavier.
He guided me toward the grand staircase that curved elegantly up to the second floor of the mansion, the polished hardwood steps gleaming under the soft glow of chandeliers.
Each step we ascended echoed faintly in the vastness of the house, the kind of silence that only wealth could buy.
The staircase was a testament to the grandeur that surrounded me—opulent, cold, and utterly foreign.
I couldn’t help but feel small in comparison, my life before this moment seeming like a distant memory.
When we reached the top, Colson turned to the left, leading me down a long corridor lined with portraits of people I didn’t recognize but who must have been part of the Ashworth legacy.
At the end of the hall, he stopped in front of a set of double doors and pushed them open, revealing what would be my new bedroom.
The room was massive, easily ten times the size of my old bedroom.
The ceilings were high, adorned with intricate molding, and the walls were painted a soft, muted cream that added to the air of understated luxury.
A large four-poster bed dominated the center of the room, draped in rich, dark fabrics that looked like they belonged in a museum.
A fireplace, large enough to stand in, sat against one wall, its mantel decorated with antique vases and framed photographs that looked out of place next to the modern, oversized flat-screen TV mounted above it.
To the right, a set of French doors opened onto a balcony that overlooked the expansive estate grounds.
I could see the perfectly manicured gardens below, the maze-like hedges and the shimmering blue of a swimming pool far off in the distance.
This wasn’t just a bedroom—it was a statement, a reminder of the life I was now a part of.
Colson released my hand and walked toward another set of doors on the opposite side of the room. He pushed them open, revealing the bathroom, and I followed him inside.
The bathroom was even more extravagant than the bedroom. It was a sanctuary of marble and glass, with a massive soaking tub positioned beneath a crystal chandelier. The tub was so large it could have been mistaken for a small pool.
Across from it, a walk-in shower with multiple showerheads was enclosed in glass, and a long vanity with double sinks stretched along one wall, each sink framed by gilded mirrors. Everything gleamed under the soft, ambient lighting, and the air smelled faintly of lavender and luxury.
“You can decorate it however you want,” Colson said, his voice pulling me back to the present. He turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “But you’ll only be here for a couple of months, while we finalize the arrangements for the wedding.”
I nodded, still taking in the sheer opulence of the room. It was almost too much to process. “A couple of months?”
“Yes.” He walked back into the bedroom, his tone shifting as he continued. “In the meantime, you’ll be in training.”
“Training?” I echoed, following him out of the bathroom. The word felt out of place, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what he meant.
“You’ll receive lessons in etiquette, dancing, languages, and food and drink—essentially everything we learn growing up.” He spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world, but it felt like he was describing another planet.
I stared at him, trying to keep up with the flood of information. Training? Lessons? The idea of being molded into something else, someone else, was jarring. But should it really have been a surprise?
This was Colson Ashworth, a man who controlled every aspect of his life with precision. Of course, he would want to shape me into the perfect wife, someone who could fit into his world seamlessly.
“I had a… modest life,” I began, my voice trailing off as I struggled to articulate what I was feeling. “I wasn’t exposed to any of those things.”
Colson regarded me for a moment, his gaze softening slightly, but there was still a distance between us, an understanding that I was now part of something far beyond my previous experience.
“That’s why you’ll be trained,” he said simply.
“You’ll learn everything you need to know to navigate this world. To navigate my world.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with expectation.
This was my reality now—a life of privilege, but also one of strict control and expectations.
And while I was still reeling from the shock, I couldn’t deny the undercurrent of inevitability.
I had made a choice, and now I would have to live with the consequences.
I had just stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a plush robe, ready to unwind with a book before bed.
The soft light of the bedside lamp cast a warm glow across the room, and I let out a sigh of contentment.
But the peace was shattered when the door to my room flew open with a force that made the walls tremble.
Vaughn stood in the doorway, his face a mask of anger, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscles twitching. The tension between us was electric, charging the air with a mix of frustration and something darker. I felt my pulse quicken, my hands instinctively curling into fists at my sides.
“Don’t you knock?” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. But Vaughn didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped into the room with a predatory grace, slamming the door behind him with a resounding thud that made my heart leap into my throat.
I took a step back, trying to create some distance, but he was faster. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin as he held up my hand with my engagement ring like it was evidence in a trial. His eyes were wild, blazing with a fury that sent a shiver down my spine.
“You did it even after I told you to leave?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
I yanked my arm free, the sting of his grip still throbbing as I glared up at him. “You don’t tell me what to do,” I hissed, every word laced with defiance.
For a moment, the fury in his eyes softened, replaced by something that looked almost like regret.
His touch was tender, surprising me, as he cupped my cheek with his hand.
The gentleness was so out of character it left me reeling.
“He’ll ruin you, Josephine. You’ll never have what you want.
Everything you do will be what he wants. ”
I pulled away from his touch, refusing to let his words sink in. “You’re just angry you can’t have me,” I shot back, the accusation sharp and precise.
Vaughn’s eyebrows slammed together, his expression darkening.
“But you’ll never know,” he muttered, his voice thick with something that felt like bitterness.
He turned on his heel and stalked toward the door, but before leaving, he stopped and looked back at me, his gaze piercing.
“Enjoy the life you created, stepmother.”
The word hung in the air, dripping with disdain, as the door closed behind him.
I stood there, my heart racing, the reality of what just happened sinking in like a heavy weight.
Vaughn’s visit had left me shaken, and I knew I couldn’t risk another uninvited intrusion.
I rushed to the door and flicked the lock, the sound of it clicking into place bringing a small measure of relief.
I climbed into bed, throwing back the duvet and sinking into the mattress.
It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before, soft and enveloping, as if I were lying on a cloud.
But despite the comfort, my mind was restless, replaying the encounter with Vaughn over and over.
I stared up at the ornate ceiling, the intricate patterns swirling above me, but they offered no distraction from the turmoil in my thoughts.
A knock at the door startled me, and I sat up abruptly, my heart pounding in my chest. “Who is it?” I called out, my voice more anxious than I intended.
“It’s Easton,” came the familiar voice, warm and reassuring.
I practically leaped out of bed, rushing to unlock the door. As soon as it opened, I threw myself into Easton’s arms, feeling the tension drain from my body the moment he held me. We fell back onto the bed together, laughing softly, the sound a welcome relief after the storm that had just passed.
Easton was the one Ashworth I could always count on, the one who was different from the rest of the wealthy elite. He was laid-back and sweet, a beacon of light in the shadowed world I had found myself in.
“Where have you been?” I asked, sitting up beside him, still holding onto his arm as if afraid he might disappear.
“Australia,” he replied, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I went surfing with some buddies. The waves were insane.”
I smiled, the image of him conquering the ocean with his easygoing charm easing my tension. But his expression shifted, the light fading as he frowned. “Joey, I heard the news. You can’t marry him. You don’t know what he’s like.”
His voice was quiet, filled with a concern that made my heart ache. But I shook my head, the reality of my situation crashing back down on me. “I have to, Easton. You know I have no choice.”
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his touch so gentle it almost broke me. “You did. You should’ve left.”
I bit my bottom lip, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “How could I? He would’ve retaliated against my family. You know it’s true.”
Easton hesitated, his eyes searching mine before he finally nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted, his voice heavy with resignation. “I never expected him to marry again. It’s been so long. I didn’t think in my wildest dreams it would be you.”