Chapter 3 step-mother

The Aston Mansion was as intimidating as ever. Sitting on one of the largest privately owned land in the country, it was an imposing building made of bricks and covered with vines to give it that old-money look.

Desmonda slipped out of her car and with a small thank you, handed her keys over to the valet to park it for her, all the while staring at the imposing mansion while dreading meeting the even more imposing woman that was inside.

She'd lived there ever since her engagement was announced three months ago, and she'd visited this mansion several times as a child, but the place never failed to make her tremble with fear and living here never made her ever feel comfortable. When she and Freddie were told to vacate the wing for a few days because of revocations, she'd let out a sigh of relief.

They were both supposed to return the day of the family dinner, but Des hoped that if this meeting went well, she'd never have to come near this place again.

Bracing herself, she walked into the mansion and up the spiralling staircase to where Marguerite Aston entertained guests. The maids bowed as she passed and she made sure to pause and greet a few as she walked past them. She spoke to one about their newborn and another about the slight cold they'd had the last time they'd seen each other.

The maids adored Des because unlike most wealthy people, like the Astons, she saw them as people and tried to get to know them.

Marguerite's secretary, Stephanie, gave her a once-over before letting her in. Even though her face was perfectly impassive, Des could tell that much like her boss, she didn't like her at all.

Des suddenly felt uncomfortable in her pink cardigan and black slacks.

"You're late," those were the first words Marguerite said to her when Des walked into her lounge.

She froze a little then smiled shakily. "The traffic-"

"Sit," Mrs Aston said with a careless wave of her hand then narrowed her brilliant, blue eyes at her. "You have thirty minutes left to make your case, with each second you waste talking about irrelevant things, your time only reduces."

Stephanie tapped her wristwatch with a cruel smile.

She sat down quickly. At fifty years old, Marguerite didn't look a day older than when we first met, two months after Freddie's father and mother split up, the elegant-looking woman was standing in their garden watching as Des played with Freddie and their other friends.

Much like now, her face was stone cold, her brown hair pin-straight and piled up into a high bun, she was dressed in subtle designer from head to toe, she wore no makeup she looked a million times better than everyone who had.

She hadn't been nice to Desmonda in the past, and her attitude only worsened with the engagement. Marguerite had openly told her that she didn't deserve her son. The only reason she tolerated "new money" like Desmonda around her stepson was because her husband was friends with Des's parents.

Her time in this house was marked by Mrs. Aston's cruel words and even crueller actions, which Freddie didn't care about, let alone do anything to stop.

For a stepmother and stepson, they sure were close, even closer than he was to his actual mother.

Des was hoping that her hatred for her would make her eager to rip apart their engagement.

"I want to call off the wedding," Desmonda said, choosing to not waste time.

Mrs Aston's brow rose. "You want to call off the wedding? After all the manipulating and scheming you did to make it happen?

Desmonda curled her fists.

She had been determined to get them paired together for marriage, but she certainly hadn't manipulated or schemed her way into it.

In their social circle, marriages were typically arranged to pair influential men and women together. Even among the wealthy, social classes existed and it was common for families to match their children with others of the same social standing.

Des wasn't stupid, she knew what people thought when news of their engagement broke. They thought she'd used her connections to get him to pick her, a new money, adoptee who was below-average looking. But she didn't care back then, she'd gotten what she wanted Freddie, so it shouldn't have mattered.

I should have listened to my parents, she thought.

"Well, I'm sure there's a reason," Marguerite spoke.

"He's cheating on me," she whispered. "I'm not sure for how long or with who, but I have proof. I don't want to be in a marriage with an unfaithful man so-"

"So what?" She spat, suddenly, interrupting Des. Her face contorted with disgust. "Did you think you were going to get complete loyalty from my son? Oh please, a woman like you should know better. This isn't a valid reason to go back on the contract."

Des frowned. "When I confronted him yesterday, he strangled me, that's abuse and-"

"Abuse!" She burst out into dry laughter and Stephanie mimicked her. "A little bit of strangling and you're crying abuse? You had it coming, pestering him all these years and then manipulating him into picking you and then confronting him about his personal matters. How impudent."

Desmonda sputtered and glanced between Marguerite's uninterested face and Stephanie's cold face. She would get no help and no support here, it seemed even her hatred wouldn't get Marguerite to back down on their agreement.

"His personal matters? Cheating is betraying a relationship, a relationship that involves two people. So it is my matter too!" She argued.

Marguerite was unfazed. "Who a man chooses to spend his time with outside of a relationship is his business," she said with a brief glance at her. "Don't look so shocked, dear. You know how men in our social circle behave. Taking a mistress isn't exactly scandalous, and it's certainly not a good reason to call off a wedding."

"You don't even like me, you don't even want me to be with your son, wouldn't ending the engagement do you more good?" She barely stopped herself from yelling out these words.

Mrs Aston sneered. "And risk ruining my son's image in the media, no. Our family has spent years away from the spotlight and drama, we certainly won't change that because of you. Let him do what he wants and learn to suck it up, it's what a woman of your standard deserves anyway. This meeting is over."

Desmonda stood up, enraged this time. "This isn't fair, I didn't do anything to deserve this! You have to cancel this agreement."

This time, anger laced her voice as she spoke. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Desmonda. This marriage will happen. In a month, you and Freddie will walk down that aisle. You won't overreact; you will suck it up and play the role of the docile and perfect wife. You will not tarnish our family name with your pathetic whining."

"Marguerite..." she said brokenly and watched her only way out disappear before her very eyes.

She was stuck, with a family that hated her, a husband that was disloyal and a cruel mother-in-law.

"Freddie is bringing his mistress with him for the family dinner. You will not cause a scene when you meet that woman, she's more of his wife than you'll ever be," she said, calm once more. "Don't bother me about this again, leave."

Desmonda left without another word. She ran down the hall, past maids who avoided her gaze and slipped into her car without a second thought. Her hands were shaking, and agony caused her chest to constrict tightly.

She couldn't go back to the hotel this evening, she needed to drown this pain away and numb herself before she saw Freddie again. And she knew just where to go for that.

Des started the engine and sped away.