Get Used To The Prescotts
The vast, manicured lawn of the Ryde Estate stretched out under the late afternoon sun, the grass a perfect emerald green.
Percy Ryde sat on a wide wooden bench near the rose garden, gently rocking six-month-old Kitty in his arms. The baby cooed softly, her chubby little hands grabbing at her father’s shirt as he hummed a quiet lullaby.
Harper paced in front of him, her heels sinking slightly into the grass, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“I still can’t believe it,” she spat, voice dripping with venom. “That nobody is now walking around calling herself Mrs. Alexander Prescott. Can you imagine? A girl who grew up wearing her cousin’s hand-me-downs is suddenly living in our family house, sleeping in Alexander’s bed. It’s disgusting.”
Percy glanced up at his wife, his expression calm but concerned. He continued rocking Kitty slowly, one large hand supporting her head. “Harper… I’ve never heard you talk about anyone with this much hate before. Not like this.”
Harper stopped pacing and turned to him, eyes flashing.
“Because she doesn’t belong here, Percy!
She’s a nobody in our world. No name, no money, no connections worth mentioning.
She was raised on charity by Harold, and now she’s somehow wormed her way into the Prescott family as Alexander’s wife?
It’s laughable. She’ll embarrass us every single time she opens her mouth. ”
Percy sighed softly, shifting Kitty to his other shoulder. His voice remained gentle but firm. “Love, it’s not fair to put all of this on Emery. She was caught in the middle of the mess Camilla created. The girl was pressured into it. She didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Shut up,” Harper snapped, cutting him off sharply.
“Don’t defend her. I don’t care if she was ‘pressured.’ She had a choice.
She could have said no. Instead, she stood there in that ridiculous pink dress and took Camilla’s place like it was some golden opportunity.
Well, I’m not going to let her enjoy it. ”
She stepped closer, her voice lowering into something cold and determined.
“I will make sure Emery is never treated as Mrs. Prescott in this family. Not by Mom, not by anyone. She can live in that house, but she will never belong. I’ll make her life so uncomfortable that she’ll regret ever stepping foot into our world.”
Percy looked at his wife for a long moment, sadness flickering in his eyes as he continued to rock their daughter. Kitty let out a small, contented gurgle, completely oblivious to the bitterness in the air.
“Harper…” he said quietly, but she had already turned away, staring out across the vast lawn with a hard, unforgiving expression.
The gentle breeze rustled the leaves, but the warmth of the afternoon did nothing to soften the hatred burning in Harper’s heart.
×××××××
After dinner, the house had fallen into a heavy quiet. Alexander entered the master bedroom quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. The recessed lighting cast a soft, low glow over the sleek masculine space.
Emery sat on the floor near the floor-to-ceiling window, knees pulled tightly to her chest, staring out at the darkening sky. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, the bangs framing her pale, exhausted face.
A tray of dinner that Ivy had brought earlier rested untouched beside her, only a few bites missing.
Alexander’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he set down the two shopping bags he was carrying near the black marble coffee table.
“Jesse bought some clothes for you,” he said evenly. “He told me to give them to you.”
Emery turned her head slightly, her eyes flicking to the bags. Her voice was quiet, almost mechanical. “Thank you.”
Alexander nodded once and moved to sit on the leather armchair across from her. “How is your fever? Ivy said they took you to the hospital.”
“I’m fine now,” she replied softly, pulling her knees closer.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. The composed, dutiful man looked tired tonight. “I know this is incredibly hard. It is the same for me. None of us could have imagined this is what life would hand us.”
Emery remained silent, listening, her gaze drifting back to the window.
Alexander continued, his voice low and sincere. “I’m sorry for what I did last night. I was drunk. It won’t happen again.”
Emery gave a small nod, eyes still distant. “I appreciate it.”
He studied her for another moment, then stood up. “Get up. I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”
Emery shook her head faintly. “I can sleep on the floor.”
“No, Emery. You’re still sick.” His tone left no room for argument. With that, he walked toward the bathroom to change for the night, leaving her alone once more with the untouched dinner tray and the two shopping bags Jesse had chosen for her.
Emery stared at the bags for a long moment. The simple gesture from Jesse, clothes bought in silence, twisted something deep inside her chest.
She hugged her knees tighter, fresh tears silently slipping down her cheeks as the darkening sky outside mirrored the emptiness she felt within.
Alexander’s room felt colder than ever.
×××××××
Jesse sat on the tufted settee at the foot of his large bed, the luxurious dark-toned room dimly lit by the black chandelier.
His trembling fingers twisted a small velvet box open and closed repeatedly. His chin quivered as he stared at the exquisite diamond ring inside... a flawless solitaire that caught the light with quiet, unmistakable Prescott wealth and elegance.
A soft knock sounded on the black oak door.
He didn’t need to ask who it was. He knew.
The door opened and Ivy stepped inside, closing it gently behind her. “Jesse.”
He quickly closed the box, but not fast enough.
“What are you doing?” she asked softly, pulling the tufted chair from the vanity and sitting down across from him.
Jesse shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes. “Nothing.”
Ivy leaned forward and gently snatched the velvet box from his fingers before he could stop her.
“Ivy…” he protested weakly.
She opened it. The diamond ring sparkled brilliantly under the warm light... classic, timeless, and breathtakingly expensive.
“Wow…” Ivy whispered, eyes widening. “Did you buy this for her?”
Jesse nodded, his voice cracking. “I did.”
He swallowed hard, tears already gathering in his eyes.
“I was about to propose soon.”
Ivy pressed her lips together, sorrow filling her expression. “That is so sad, Jesse.”
He nodded silently, unable to speak for a moment. Then the words broke free, raw and trembling.
“It breaks my heart. It tears me apart, Ivy. I don’t have words to express how much I love her… and how much I miss her.”
A sob escaped him, silent at first, then deeper, more painful. His shoulders shook as the tears finally fell.
Ivy stood immediately and moved to sit beside him on the settee. She pulled him into her arms without hesitation.
Jesse buried his face against her shoulder, hugging her tightly as muffled wails tore from his chest... the sound of a man whose entire future had been ripped away in a single day.
Ivy held him close, one hand gently stroking his dark hair. “Hang in there, Jesse,” she whispered softly, her own eyes glistening. “Just hang in there.”
They stayed like that for a long time, twin siblings wrapped in shared pain, the diamond ring lying forgotten on the settee between them, a cruel symbol of the life Jesse had planned but would never have.
Outside the room, the Prescott house remained quiet, unaware of the silent storm raging within its walls.
×××××××
The next morning, soft morning light filtered through the dark curtains of the master bedroom.
Alexander stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white shirt and slipping on his tailored charcoal suit jacket. He looked every bit the composed CEO... neatly styled dark hair, clean-shaven, calm and observant.
Emery sat on the edge of the large platform bed, still in the soft gray pajamas Ivy had lent her. Her hair was loosely tied back, a few soft waves framing her pale face. She watched him quietly for a moment before speaking, her voice hesitant but determined.
“Alexander… I was thinking about returning to the office. Maybe next week?”
Alexander paused, his hands stilling on his tie. He turned to look at her, his expression neutral... neither warm nor cold, simply matter-of-fact.
“No.”
Emery blinked, her stormy eyes widening slightly. “But… I want to work. I’ve always worked.”
He finished knotting his tie with precise movements and turned fully toward her. “You are my wife now, Emery. You cannot continue doing a small job at the company. It wouldn’t be appropriate anymore.”
His tone was calm, controlled, and utterly detached. There was no cruelty in it, but there was also no warmth, only the quiet finality of duty.
“You should stay home,” he continued. “Get used to the house. Get used to this life. There will be plenty of time to figure out what you want to do later, but for now… this is where you belong.”
Emery lowered her gaze to the dark wooden floor, her slender fingers twisting in her lap. The words “my wife” felt heavy and foreign coming from his mouth.
Alexander picked up his watch from the black marble nightstand and fastened it around his wrist. “I’ll be back in the evening. If you need anything, ask Ivy or one of the staff.”
He gave her one last glance before heading toward the door.
“Take care of yourself today,” he added quietly, almost as an afterthought.
Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him with soft finality.
Emery remained sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the empty space where he had stood. The luxurious room felt even larger and colder without him.
Stay home.
Get used to this life.
She closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
How was she supposed to get used to any of this?
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