Chapter 3
The echo of her footsteps on the polished marble was the first thing Thalia noticed upon entering the mansion. It was too silent. Too perfect. As if every object was placed to impress, not to be lived in. Beside her, a friendly-faced employee pointed her to her room, asked if she needed anything. Thalia only shook her head.
There was nothing she could need. Everything that mattered to her had been left behind, even if she didn't know exactly what it was.
Her room was decorated in sober, but elegant tones. A giant window let in the afternoon light and, for a moment, Thalia allowed herself to believe that this place could be a new beginning.
But it wasn't.
Not when you could hear the heels of elegant secretaries leaving Adrian's office every night.
Not when he treated her like a decorative object in front of his employees, introducing her with phrases like "my fiancee" or "the lady of the house" without even looking her in the eye.
Not when little Amelia—Adrian's daughter—watched her with big eyes, full of tenderness, not knowing whether to approach or stay away.
And that night, everything exploded.
Thalia was coming out of the shower, her hair wet and a soft robe around her body. She had spent the day exploring the gardens, talking a little with Amelia—who smiled at her for the first time—and reading in the living room. Adrian hadn't appeared all day.
The door to her room was ajar. She headed towards the master bedroom, the one she officially shared with him even though they rarely coincided. She wanted to ask him something about Amelia, about her class schedule.
She pushed the door without thinking too much.
And she saw him.
The body of a woman, half-naked, riding him. Her lips brushing Adrian's, her high-pitched laughter breaking the silence. Adrian had his eyes closed. He didn't see her come in.
Thalia froze for a second.
Just one.
Then she spun on her heels, closed the door silently, and went downstairs directly to the kitchen.
She poured herself a glass of water. Then another. Then she sat on the counter, taking deep breaths.
The coldness of the glass couldn't quench the fury boiling inside her.
Not out of jealousy. But out of disgust.
Out of disrespect.
Out of hypocrisy.
A few minutes passed. Not many. Then the door opened forcefully.
Adrian.
"What the hell are you doing coming in without knocking?" he snapped, his hair disheveled and his brow furrowed.
Thalia slowly looked up, placing the glass on the table with a small clink.
"Am I forbidden from entering our room?"
"That's not what I said."
"No, of course. What you said was not to knock. Should I ask for permission every time I want to know something about Amelia?"
Adrian frowned.
"This has nothing to do with my daughter."
"Oh, no?" Thalia jumped off the counter smoothly, walking towards him. "Do you think Amelia doesn't notice what's going on in this house? Do you think she doesn't listen, doesn't see?"
He opened his mouth, but Thalia interrupted him with the firmest voice she had ever used.
"Are you going to bring someone different every night? Is that part of the deal too?"
Adrian took a step back. The fury in his eyes began to falter.
"You have no right to judge me."
"You're right. I don't. Because this isn't a marriage. We're nothing. But you brought me here. You asked for this charade. And if we're going to pretend… at least you could pretend to respect me, to respect your daughter."
The mention of Amelia seemed to hurt more than any other word.
"She doesn't understand," he said softly.
"Maybe not now. But she will. And when she does, she's not going to admire you, as the great father you pretend to be. She's going to wonder why her father treated women like disposable objects."
Adrian clenched his fists.
"You have no idea what I've lost. Or about my life."
"And you think that gives you the right to hurt others?"
The silence between them became heavy. The kitchen, so immaculate, so cold, witnessed a brutal truth: they were broken. Each in their own way. And they were forced to live together.
"Are you going to apologize?" Thalia asked after a minute.
"Why? For having a life before you?"
"No. For dragging me into your hell without warning me."
Adrian took a deep breath. He walked towards the door.
"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Amelia."
"Then start thinking about her. Really."
The door closed.
Thalia didn't cry.
She wasn't one of those girls who burst into tears at the first shout. Not anymore. Not after everything she had lived through. Pain had hardened her, made her quiet, cold, strong. But at that moment… in that damn kitchen of white marble and stainless steel, she felt an old wound reopen.
Not because of Adrian.
Because of herself. Because of the girl she had been. Because of the woman she was trying to become.
She clenched her teeth. The glass in her hand trembled slightly. And at that instant, she heard footsteps again.
But it wasn't Adrian.
It was Amelia.
The girl, in pajamas, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, with big, sleepy eyes.
"Thalia?"
Thalia turned immediately and forced a smile.
"Honey… what are you doing awake?"
Amelia didn't answer. She just looked at her. And, as if she could see beyond the smile, she walked to her in silence, stretched out her little arms, and clung to her legs.
Thalia immediately crouched down and hugged her tightly. With a tenderness she thought she had forgotten.
"Are you okay?" asked the little girl, in a low voice.
"Yes," she replied, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Just… I was just thinking."
Amelia said nothing more. She just stayed there, hugging her.
And in the doorway of the kitchen, hidden by the shadows, Adrian watched them.
For the first time in a long time… he felt fear.
Fear that Thalia was entering his life more than he had planned. Fear that that scene, so intimate, so unexpected, would remain etched in his memory as an impossible longing.
The early morning advanced slowly.
Thalia couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned in bed until insomnia forced her to get up. She walked down the hall with her robe tightened around her body, and without thinking, went back down to the kitchen.
And there was Adrian, alone, with a glass of whiskey in his hand, leaning against the counter.
"Can't sleep?" she asked bluntly.
He shook his head.
"Neither can you."
Thalia crossed her arms.
"Aren't you going to apologize?"
"What would you gain from that?"
"Maybe… some respect."
Adrian laughed, without joy.
"Respect doesn't come from words. It comes from actions. And if you're expecting me to become the ideal man overnight, you're going to be disappointed."
"I don't expect anything from you," Thalia replied, looking him straight in the eye. "I just don't want you to treat me as if I don't exist. As if I were just another decoration in this house… or as one more of your women."
Adrian took a step closer. Just one.
His eyes, as dark and cold as the night, locked onto hers with contained rage.
"Do you think you could be just one more?" he murmured, his voice rough. "I can't even give you that."
Thalia frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Adrian looked away, as if he had trouble admitting it. Then, he found her again with his, with a new hardness in his voice.
"I don't feel anything for you. Not even desire. Not even the slightest. You're… an uncomfortable presence, you know? A constant reminder of what my father expects of me. A woman I was sold, as if that were enough for me to… function."
The slap wasn't physical. But it hurt as if it had been.
Thalia swallowed, looking down for a moment. Then she raised her face with a firmness that surprised both of them.
"Then at least make an effort to see me. Not as a woman, nor as a wife. As a person. As someone who lives under your roof. As someone who takes care of your daughter. As someone who breathes the same air."
Adrian watched her without saying anything. Thalia continued.
"I don't want you to pretend anything. I don't want you to touch me. I don't want you to give me what you don't feel. I just want… us to be able to talk. That you don't avoid me as if I disgust you. That you ask me how my day was. That you don't mind if I have dinner at your table."
There was a long silence.
"Are you proposing that we be… friends?" he asked, as if the word tasted like poison to him.
Thalia nodded gently.
"Yes. Because at least friends greet each other. They respect each other. They take care of each other."
Adrian clenched his jaw. He walked to the window and stared at the darkness of the garden.
"I don't know if I can give you that," he murmured.
"Try," she whispered. "Because, believe it or not, I also have a life. And I'm not here to be ignored."
And without adding anything else, Thalia turned around.
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