Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Westwood Manor
Charles took her hand too. “You’re younger than I thought.”
Just as her fingers brushed the edge, the door creaked open.
She shouldn’t. It wasn’t her business.
“My son never brings women home. I’ve only ever seen him truly smile once in the last few years… and now suddenly, he’s married?” Her eyes sparkled. “I couldn’t wait to meet the woman who managed to do what no one else could.”
“She’s beautiful,” Margret added warmly, shooting her husband a look.
Melanie sat awkwardly between them, answering polite questions about her background, where she studied, and what she liked. She avoided any mention of her family or her past. She didn’t want to be pitied… not now, not ever again.
“I’m twenty-four,” she said.
Everything was so… polished. Pristine.
But her hands moved before her mind could stop her. She reached for it, curiosity sparking.
He exited the closet and began removing his blazer, tossing it over a nearby chair.
Melanie gave a polite nod to Leonard, then followed the maid up the marble staircase.
Melanie immediately stepped back. I wasn’t… I just…”
With someone else.
Leonard cleared his throat beside her. “Show Melanie to the room,” he said to a maid.
Melanie walked further in, letting her fingers skim the edge of velvet headboard, the marble dresser, the cool satin sheets. Everything screamed of a world she didn’t belong in.
But she couldn’t shake what little she had seen.
“I don’t like people touching my personal things. If we’re going to live together, learn that now,” he said without looking at her.
“Oh great, Leonard is twenty-seven,” Leonard’s father said.
She looked away, ashamed, heat rising to her cheeks.
A woman who looked… familiar.
Leonard stepped out first and circled the car to open the door for her. He didn’t offer his hand, just waited, silent as always. Melanie gathered her courage and stepped out, lifting her chin slightly even as nerves tugged at her stomach.
“They liked her. Why did that make her feel worse?”
Melanie stood there long after the door closed.
“This is your room, ma’am. Sir Leonard said you’ll both be sharing the master suite.”
She hadn’t seen it clearly. It could’ve been anyone. But something about the curve of the woman’s jaw, the way Leonard’s hand rested on her shoulder…
But that image lingered in her mind.
The woman pulled her into a gentle hug. “No need for formality. I’m Margret, Leonard’s mother. This is my husband, Charles.
Margret linked her arm with hers. “Come inside and sit down. We were just having tea. I want to hear everything.”
Melanie nodded, her throat tight. “Understood.”
Melanie blinked, stunned. “Yes… ma’am. Good evening.”
“I can’t place it. But she has a presence.”
“Of course!” a maid appeared almost instantly and gave a slight bow. “Mrs. Westwood, please follow me.”
The maid led her to a corridor and stopped at a double room with gold trimmings.
Melanie didn’t know whether to feel comfortable or concerned.
Melanie’s breath hitched. “Sharing a room, she knew that already.”
She moved toward the closet out of habit, wanting to see where she could keep her few belongings… the ones Leonard had gotten for her on their way home. As she stepped inside, her gaze swept over the neatly arranged suits, the polished shoes, the cologne bottles perfectly aligned.
Eventually, the visit ended. Margret kissed both her cheeks before leaving and whispered, “He needs someone like you. Don’t give up on him.”
The room was massive, far more luxurious than anything she’d ever stepped into. A king-sized bed rested against a paneled wall, and the furniture gleamed under soft lights. A door to the left led to a walk-in closet.
The heavy front doors opened, and a tall woman with graying hair and gentle eyes strode forward, followed by a broad-shouldered man with a strong resemblance to Leonard.
“I don’t care what you were doing. Don’t.”
“Don’t go through my things,” he said simply.
“You may freshen up, ma’am. Dinner will be served downstairs if you’re hungry,” the maid added with a polite smile, then slipped out.
And for a reason she didn’t want to admit, it bothered her.
She turned with a gasp. Leonard stood there, his expression unreadable.
Melanie forced a small smile, still processing. “Thank you ma.”
She was painfully aware of how ordinary she was in this place.
Melanie forced a smile, her heart thudding in her chest. That… wasn’t what she expected. Not kindness. Not warmth. Not acceptance.
“She reminds me of someone,” Margret said to her husband at one point.
Leonard had smiled in that photo.
Before Melanie could say much else, Margret stepped forward and took her hands.
She expected icy silence from inside. What she didn’t expect was warmth.
Melanie slowly stepped out as well, standing awkwardly by the bed. The air between them had shifted again. Colder. Tenser.
Something caught her attention. A corner of a photo card sticking out between two folded shirts on the middle shelf.
In that split second, she had caught a blurry image… Leonard, smiling. Standing beside a woman.
It stirred something unsettling inside her.
Charles raised a brow. “Who?”
The sleek black car rolled past the towering gate and up a long, winding driveway flanked by trimmed hedges and soft garden lights. Melanie’s fingers fidgeted in her lap as Leonard pulled up to a stop in front of the grand estate. The Westwood Manor loomed before her… elegant, intimidating, and far too perfect. It looked like a place pulled from a dream, or a nightmare, depending on how this contract marriage unfolded.
Leonard moved past her and adjusted the shelf, slipping the photo completely out of sight.
Someone like her? What did that mean?
But the cold in his eyes was enough.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t scold.
Surprisingly, Margret never pushed. She kept complimenting her grace, her “elegant posture” and even the softness in her eyes.
“Leonard,” the woman greeted, eyes lighting up before settling on Melanie. “And you must be Melanie?”
