33. Chapter 33
A ria
She followed him up the carpeted staircase, running her fingers along the smooth mahogany railing. The air upstairs had the kind of quiet that came with thick walls and enough money to keep the outside world at bay.
He gestured to the first door on the right. "This would be yours. It's small but self-contained with an ensuite shower, wardrobe, and small desk. My wife prefers the staff to have their own space."
Aria stepped in. The room was neat, impersonal, with cream walls, pale oak furniture, and a window that overlooked a walled garden.
He showed her the linen cupboard, explained laundry expectations and the daily cleaning rotation. She was to help with meal prep once a week, though a cook handled most dinners. No guests, though. No late-night comings or goings.
"We've had...problems in the past," he said delicately. "Nothing serious. But trust is hard-earned, though we're offering it freely, and we expect the same."
Back downstairs, he waved a hand towards the sitting room once more, and she found herself easing back into the same pale linen chair .
"A live-in arrangement is what we're looking for," Marcus said as they returned to the sitting room. "We will cover food and board. "
Aria felt it then-that tiny thrum of fragile hope. Maybe this was her chance for a start fresh. A safe space with a bit of security.
Then, like a switch had been flipped, Marcus' posture grew slightly stiff. He stood straighter, his smile dimmed. The air between them seemed to drop a few degrees.
"This job is yours, Aria. We would prefer an immediate start. We can draw up a contract with a decent salary, if I may say so."
Her fingers went still on her bag strap.
As he spoke, Marcus reached into his inner vest pocket with the same smooth elegance that came naturally to men who had never known want. He retrieved a small cream-coloured slip of paper-thick, embossed on the corner-and an expensive-looking pen with a gold nib that gleamed as he uncapped it.
He scribbled a figure in neat, looping numbers.
When he turned it to her, Aria's breath caught and her eyes widened. This was more than three months' rent. She stared at it, almost giddy. Hope rose so suddenly and sharply in her throat that it made her feel lightheaded. For a fragile, glittering second, it felt like her luck had changed .
So much so that she almost missed the next part. She opened her mouth, the words "I'm pregnant" hovering at the back of her tongue, ready to slip free.
"All I ask," Marcus continued, his voice calm and even, "is that you cut off contact with Crispin. You've earned a bit of breathing room."
The words didn't register at first, but then they did in a rush.
"I beg your pardon?" she whispered, mouth dry.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gestured for her to sit again, the motion smooth, practised like a host returning to a script.
Marcus folded his hands and tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "I imagine you've had a rough year. Working and managing. Still...you carry yourself well."
She said nothing, unsure if it was meant to be a compliment.
"Where are you staying, if you don't mind me asking?"
"In Clapham," she replied, cautious .
"With your sister?"
Aria shook her head.
"You're not working at the café anymore?" he asked, his tone pleasant but probing.
"No."
"I thought so." He nodded slightly, satisfied with the puzzle pieces fitting into place. "And how are you coping?"
She just looked at him.
"Come," he said. "Let me show you one last room."
He led her back through the hallway and into the front drawing room. He walked towards the mantle, his back to her, and spoke with an odd gentleness. "You looked very lovely that night. I remember thinking that."
Aria stiffened. "What night?"
He turned, his smile faint. "That awful dinner party when the engagement was announced. You wore a black dress, I think. And Ophelia's opal."
Her stomach twisted. "You were there. "
"I was," he said. "Though I wasn't introduced, and I doubt you even saw me. I stood by the side window when Crispin's mother made the toast." His voice dropped to something almost regretful. "It was a cruel way to find out. I thought so then, too."
Aria's heart thudded once, hard. "You're related."
It was all very clear now, in the shape of his mouth, the colour of his eyes. The resemblance was striking.
He dipped his head. "Marcus Falder. My half-brother is Crispin's father. I daresay Crispin has done more than anyone ever expected of him. Worked his way up the hard way with no shortcuts."
There was a pause as Marcus seemed to study her.
"He's not like the others, Aria-I won't deny that. But he's stuck between a rock and a hard place, as they say. You must know how fragile things are right now."
Aria's throat was dry. "I don't understand. What does any of this have to do with me?"
"I think you do," Marcus said softly. "He won't let go of you. And in doing so, he's about to lose everything."
He reached into the drawer of the cabinet beside him and pulled out a white envelope .
"This job is not charity; it's the start of a new path for you. You are resilient. You deserve a fresh slate. All I ask is that you step aside before things become irreversible."
She stared at the envelope like it might burn through the table. "And if I don't?"
Marcus exhaled as if regretful on her behalf, voice still composed. "Then the offer is void. If you tell Crispin, it's void. And if you wait too long...he'll lose his inheritance, his options. And when that happens, Aria...do you really think he'll choose you?"
Silence.
"You'll get everything in writing. No tricks. It's just that...his life is going in a different direction, and so should yours."
"I think we have nothing more to talk about."
She turned to leave, heart pounding, but he stepped in front of her, not touching, but too close.
"Don't," she warned, backing away.
He sighed and stepped aside, hands raised. "I don't like doing this, but you must understand your position. You're alone, unemployed. You're a liability. Crispin is about to lose everything-his shares, the trust. There are stipulations. He'll be penniless. "
She stared at him. "He's not stupid. He'll find a way. He can work-"
"Can he? Or will he spiral? Will you drag him down with you?" Marcus's tone had sharpened. "How selfish can you be? Would you really let him give up everything for you?"
Déjà vu.
Her skin crawled. Helga had said something chillingly similar.
He softened again, suddenly. "I know about your sister. And her boyfriend. You know how many start-ups fail, don't you?"
It wasn't a direct threat, but it didn't have to be.
She wanted to vomit.
"I'm trying to help you," Marcus said, almost gently. "Take the offer."
Aria straightened. Her voice barely shook. "Let me think about it."
He nodded, but his eyes didn't smile. "Crispin's on the verge of losing everything. Ask yourself, has he chosen you even once in the last five years? "
She didn't have an answer for that.
Then, almost kindly, he slid a card across the table. "You seem like a clever girl. Don't waste that."
Aria stood, legs trembling, but she made it to the door.
His voice wasn't unkind, but it wasn't humane, either.
She fled before her knees gave out.