Chapter 3 Shadows Within

Derick's POV

The mansion felt alive that morning. Not with happiness, nor with life, but with the kind ominous energy that soaked into your flesh. The hallways were a subdued shade of gray as the rain outside pounded on the windows and the sun was obscured by the heavy clouds.

I hardly looked at the papers that were laid out in front of me as I sat in my study. My thoughts drifted to Nadia. My wife. It still felt wrong to say those things. This is not what I requested. As part of a calculated move to increase power and influence, Nancy was to be the bride. Instead, I ended up with her younger sister, a silent shadow who barely lifted her head to meet my eyes.

She wasn't the woman I wanted. Even though she appeared to be waning under the pressure of this household and its demands, there was something about her-a quiet strength in the way she carried herself.

The knock on the door startled me. "Come in," I called, my voice sharper than intended.

With his massive form filling the entryway, my father entered. Peter Steele was a man who could command a room with a single glance. As usual, his outfit was perfectly made, and he had a look of cool calculation mixed with contempt.

"I hear your wife is settling in," he said, the word "wife" dripping with sarcasm.

I crossed my arms and reclined in my chair. "She's getting used to it."

"She doesn't belong here." His voice was quiet but full of malice as he took a step closer. "That girl lacks the courage to bear the Steele name." She's not Nancy.

"I know she's not Nancy," I said in a chilly tone. "And yet, here we are."

A scowl curved Peter's lips. "Do you think this marriage will last? That she'll be able to handle what comes with being married to you?"

Unflinching, I looked him in the eye. "She doesn't have to handle anything. This isn't about her, and you know it."

He leaned over my desk and grinned. "Derick, keep an eye on her. That kind of woman-quiet, unassuming-will break down the moment things become difficult. And she will bring you down with her when she does.

I didn't answer. Long after Peter had left the room, his remarks continued to echo in my head.

I was in the sitting room later that night when the butler came up to me with a plain envelope.

"This arrived for you, sir," he said, holding it out.

I accepted it, the paper weighing more than it ought to have. My name was written in rough, crooked handwriting, with no markings or return address. My stomach turned.

I nodded to the butler to dismiss him and opened the envelope. There was only one page of paper inside.

I'm coming for her. You'll regret bringing her into your home. Keep her safe... if you can.

Printed in big characters that seemed to jump off the page, the words were striking. Anger and uneasiness swirled in my chest as my fists clasped the paper hard. This was a threat, not a warning.

I paced the room while crumpling the note in my hand. Initially, I wanted to face Nadia. But what would I even say? That someone out there wanted to hurt her?

No. This was my responsibility, and I wasn't going to allow it to break her delicate disposition.

Still, the note's words lingered.

The next morning, I found her in the greenhouse, her slight figure dwarfed by the towering plants around her. She knelt beside a group of orchids, adjusting their stems with careful hands.

"Nadia," I called.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked up. She brushed her hands on her skirt as she gently rose up.

I crossed the distance between us, stopping a few feet away. "Has anyone approached you? Delivered anything unusual?"

Her brows furrowed as she shook her head.

"Good," I said, though my tone was clipped. I couldn't let her see the tension that coiled inside me. "If anything strange happens, you tell me immediately."

She made precise, fast movements with her hands as she signed. "Why?"

"Just do it," I said, my tone more abrasive than I meant. She nodded curtly, her lips squeezed into a narrow line, and then she looked back at the orchids. I couldn't get rid of the feeling that I hadn't handled that well as I was leaving. But right now, I can't afford to soften.

The hostility came later that afternoon.

Nadia was doodling in a tiny notepad in the sitting room where I left her. When I got back, my father was standing over her, and she was standing stiffly with a pale face.

"What exactly are you good at?" The harshness of Peter's words sliced through the room like a dagger. "You can't speak, can barely make eye contact, and you think you can handle being a Steele?"

Nadia gripped the notebook to her chest as her hands shook a little. She kept her eyes on the ground and didn't look up.

"Peter," I spoke in a menacing, piercing voice.

With an unrepentant attitude, he turned to face me. "I'm just telling her the truth. She's out of her depth, and you know it."

With a tight physique, I moved between them. "That's enough."

Peter grinned but took a step back. As he exited the room, he muttered, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

After he left, I looked at Nadia. Her hands betrayed her, gripping the notepad so hard that her knuckles were white, despite her blank expression.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

She gave me a single nod, but she avoided looking at me. Without saying anything, she walked by me and out of the room.

I had trouble sleeping that night. My thoughts kept racing with the note, my father's words, and Nadia's quiet withdrawal.

I found myself wandering the halls, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the walls. The mansion was silent, save for the distant ticking of a clock and the occasional creak of the floorboards.

I walked to the west wing of the house, where I didn't often visit. The air felt heavier and colder here, for some reason.

I paused outside a door that I hadn't opened in a long time. I felt a slight coolness as I cranked the handle, which felt cool against my palm.

The room was exactly as I had remembered it to be: dusty, unaltered, and replete with artifacts from a past I had tried to conceal. But it wasn't the room itself that caught my attention.

It was the faint creak of footsteps behind me.

I whirled, but there was nobody in the hallway. Still, as I walked back to my room, I couldn't get rid of the feeling that I was being watched.

Nadia's POV

The home was a maze with twisting passageways and secret passageways that were both fascinating and frightening. For me, it had turned into an odd sort of haven where I could go to lose myself when the stress of everything got to be too much.

I needed to be far away from them that night after Derick had barged into the greenhouse with his cryptic questions and his father's harsh words were still fresh in my mind.

I had not yet explored the west wing of the home, but my feet brought me there. Here, the air seemed different-colder, heavier, as if the walls were hiding secrets they weren't quite ready to reveal.

I traced the elaborate patterns etched into the wood with my fingers as I moved around the wall. Something about this place felt... alive.

Then I noticed it. There is a little entrance half hidden under an elaborate tapestry.

A sense of curiosity pulled at me. I pushed the tapestry away, exposing the aged surface of the door. When I opened it, it creaked loudly in the silence.

A small staircase with shadowed stairs spiraled downward. The icy air brushed against my skin like a warning as I paused and finally lowered myself.

A single flickering lamp at the bottom lit the room dimly. Photographs with dust-caked frames adorned the walls. With my heart racing, I took a step closer and looked at them.

The faces, some familiar, others unfamiliar, peered back at me. But, I noticed a big, ripped portrait in the middle of the space.

The boy's face was half gone, and the tear's edges were ragged and irate. But, His eyes were eerily familiar to the gentle gray of a stormy sky.

I gasped and took a step back, feeling the weight of the discovery bearing down on me.

Who is he? And why had this part of the mansion been hidden away?

The answers seemed just out of grasp as the storm raged outside, the shadows whispering secrets I wasn't prepared to hear.