Chapter Thirty-Two
Joseph
The office is a storm of relentless activity, an overwhelming cacophony of ringing phones, rustling papers, and hurried footsteps. The scent of coffee mingles with the faint metallic tang of ink from a nearby printer. My desk, a battlefield of open files, scattered notes, and half-emptied pens, bears the brunt of this chaos. Yet, despite the surrounding whirlwind, I maintain a vice grip on my composure, holding the phone to my ear with one hand and pressing my fingers to my temple with the other, willing away the beginnings of a headache.
“Yes, Mr. Gilmore,” I say, keeping my tone measured and professional, though my patience frays with each passing second. “The suite is reserved, and I’ve personally ensured it meets your expectations. The Jorg family spares no expense, particularly for an occasion of this magnitude.”
Mr. Gilmore drones on about his specific requirements—extra linens, a bottle of imported champagne, a particular type of pillow—and I respond with automatic precision, my focus already shifting to the next task. This week has been a never-ending trial of logistics, a grueling marathon of coordinating travel arrangements, finalizing guest lists, and ensuring the seamless execution of what promises to be the grandest event of the year: The wedding. Yet, beneath the mounting stress lies an undeniable thrill, a quiet hum of excitement that propels me forward.
The call ends, and I exhale sharply, glancing at the clock. No rest for the weary . I pick up my phone again, this time dialing Danae’s parents. The line barely rings before her mother’s voice answers, warm and effusive.
“Mr. Cane! How lovely to hear from you!” she says, her tone brimming with anticipation.
I find myself smiling despite my exhaustion. “Good evening, Mrs. Walker. I wanted to confirm your travel arrangements. The wedding is just two weeks away, and we’ve made all the necessary preparations for your arrival.”
Her laughter is light and genuine, the kind of sound that could lift even the heaviest of hearts. “Oh, we’re so excited! Danae’s happiness is everything to us. This wedding…it’s like a dream come true.”
Her words resonate, striking a chord deep within me. I manage a polite response before ending the call, but the weight of her sincerity lingers.
Two weeks. In just fourteen days, Danae will officially become part of the Jorg family. The thought fills me with a peculiar mix of pride and disbelief. For all the meticulous planning, the spreadsheets, and sleepless nights, this isn’t merely an event—it’s a union, a merging of lives and legacies.
I push back my chair and stand, stretching my stiff muscles. The office feels stifling, the walls pressing in like the pages of an overfilled calendar.
I need a moment to breathe, to escape the suffocating weight of my responsibilities. As I step into the hallway, the muted hum of activity within the estate greets me. Maids move silently, dusting ornate fixtures while the distant echo of footsteps resonates from the upper floors.
I head toward the kitchen, seeking refuge in its quiet warmth, but my steps falter as a familiar figure emerges from an adjacent corridor. Danae.
She spots me, and her smile blooms, soft and genuine, like the first rays of sunlight piercing through a cloudy sky. It’s a smile that has a way of disarming me even on the busiest of days. For a moment, the chaos of my day fades, replaced by a sense of calm that only her presence seems to bring.
“Joseph,” she greets, her voice warm and laced with concern. “You’ve been working so hard. Are you holding up?”
I chuckle, running a hand through my hair in a gesture of mock defeat. “I think I’ve aged a decade this week alone, but I’m surviving. The real question is, how are you holding up? The wedding’s practically knocking at the door.”
She exhales softly, her smile widening. “I’m happy,” she says simply, her voice tinged with an almost wistful sincerity. “I never thought I’d be here, marrying into a family like this. It means everything to me—to make my parents proud, to find a place where I truly belong.”
Her words are like a soft melody, beautiful yet haunting. I should feel gratified by her happiness, but there’s something in her tone that gives me pause. A subtle undercurrent of duty, of expectation that stirs an unease I can’t quite name.
To make my parents proud.
The phrase loops in my mind like a haunting refrain. Is that what this is to her? A fulfillment of obligations? A chapter in a book written by someone else?
I study her face, searching for any trace of doubt or hesitation, but all I find is sincerity. Still, the thought gnaws at me, a persistent whisper in the back of my mind. I want to ask her, to delve deeper into her feelings, but the moment is broken by the insistent buzz of my phone. I glance at the screen, irritation flickering across my features as I answer, “Joseph Cane.”
“Mr. Cane, this is the gatehouse,” the voice on the other end informs me. “The first wave of guests has arrived.”
I sigh, my attention snapping back to reality. “Understood. I’ll be there shortly.”
I turn back to Danae, offering an apologetic smile. “Duty calls. The extended family is starting to arrive.”
She nods, her gaze steady and understanding. “Go. They’re waiting for you.”
As I walk toward the main entrance, her words linger in my mind. The excitement I’d felt earlier is now tempered by an unsettling doubt.
I want her to be happy, truly happy—not just for her parents, but for herself.
The estate’s grand foyer is a hive of activity, the air buzzing with the energy of arriving guests. Luggage is carted in by staff, and the chatter of distant relatives fills the space. I plaster on a polite smile, greeting each newcomer with the practiced warmth of a consummate host, but my thoughts remain tethered to Danae.
By the time I step outside for a moment of reprieve, the sun has dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep indigo. The cool evening air is a welcome balm against my heated thoughts. I lean against the balustrade, staring out at the sprawling estate grounds, and let my mind wander.
Danae’s words echo in the quiet stillness.
To make my parents proud.
I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to those words, layers of emotion she hasn’t shared. I think of her smile, so radiant and unguarded, yet tinged with a fragility that haunts me.
I hope she’s truly happy. I hope this isn’t just about duty for her.