Page 37 of Of Oaths and Secrets

“Hello?” I say, my voice coming out more surprised than I intended.

The guard shifts his stance, voice low and formal. “Morning, Mrs. Lucchese. Mr. Lucchese wants me to see you home safe. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

I blink, trying to mask the rejection that flares up yet again. It’s strange; I walked into this marriage with low expectations—no love, no dreams of romance, just a practical arrangement. And yet, I’ve still managed to feel rejected twice in less than twenty-four hours.

I need to toughen up more than I thought. This isn’t about basic expectations anymore—it’s about everything else. I had hoped for some mutual respect, maybe even a hint of friendship, but with the way Rafaele hasn’t even bothered to take me to my new home himself, it’s clear that’s not on his agenda.

I guess it’s better this way—better that he shows me who he really is from the start. It avoids any unnecessary illusions or wasted time.

With this new resolution, I straighten up, holding my head high. “Thank you. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

The guard nods again, standing at attention, and I turn back to gather my things. As I do, I take a steadying breath, letting the cool resolve wash over me. Whatever I thought might be possible between Rafaele and me, it’s time to set it aside. I have to focus on what’s real, on what’s tangible—my own strength, my own ability to navigate this new life.

I’m relieved that the house is deserted as we make our way to the car. I’m not in the mood to play the part of the blissfully happy wife who had her world rocked on her wedding night.

The driver is the silent type, and for that, I’m grateful. The drive is shorter than I anticipated, and I’m surprised when we turn onto a quiet suburban street instead of heading toward the city. I expected Rafaele to live in some sort of clinical, aseptic penthouse, like something out ofAmerican Psycho, but the car stops in front of imposing iron gates that open to reveal a sprawling manor.

It’s a massive, Gothic-style house with dark stone walls, intricate ironwork, and towering, narrow windows that give it a grand yet haunting appearance. The grounds are vast, with manicured lawns and hedges that are cut to precision, leadingup to the grand entrance flanked by stone pillars. The whole estate feels like it’s been plucked straight from another era, with a touch of old-world opulence that’s almost intimidating.

It’s not what I expected at all. I take in the sheer scale of the place, the high walls that encircle the property like a fortress, and the carved gargoyles perched on the corners of the roof, glaring down as if daring anyone to approach.

The house exudes a sense of history and power—luxurious, yes, but with an edge of something darker, more complex. The kind of place that doesn’t just hold secrets but keeps them locked away behind heavy doors.

As I open the car door, the imposing wooden entrance of the manor swings open, and a middle-aged woman with graying hair, dressed in a neat dark blue uniform, hurries down the steps. Her broad smile and the warmth radiating from her face catch me off guard; she seems genuinely excited to see me, a stark contrast to the cold, intimidating exterior of the house.

It’s not at all what I expected from Rafaele’s staff. I had imagined them as somber and distant, mirroring the dark presence of the house’s owner. But this woman exudes kindness, her bright demeanor clashing wonderfully with the grim façade behind her.

“Mrs. Lucchese, welcome!” she says, her voice cheerful and inviting. “I’m Teresa, the housekeeper. We’ve been expecting you. It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

Her enthusiasm tugs at something in me, a bittersweet mix of comfort and longing. She reminds me so much of Donna—my friend who has been my anchor through so many storms. The thought of Donna brings a tightness to my chest; I hadn’t realized how much I’d miss her until now.

“Thank you.” I offer a tentative smile, unsure if it’ll hold, but Teresa’s warmth is infectious, chipping away at the frost I’ve wrapped around my heart. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Teresa beams, her excitement contagious. “Come, let me show you around. We’ve prepared everything just as Mr. Lucchese instructed. I hope you’ll feel at home here.”

I nod, even though I doubt I will ever truly feel at home in this place. But her warmth makes it difficult to argue, so I follow her inside.

The large entryway opens up to a stunning hall with high ceilings and ornate chandeliers that cast a soft, golden glow across the marble floors. The walls are adorned with rich, dark wood paneling and elegant tapestries, and a grand staircase sweeps up to the second floor, its railing an intricate design of wrought iron that looks both formidable and beautiful. Every detail of the space speaks of old-world luxury, the kind of place that has seen centuries pass but still holds its own, proud and timeless.

We ascend the staircase, and I can’t help but run my hand along the smooth, cool railing. As we reach the top, Teresa’s cheerful voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Mr. Lucchese told me you love to bake,” she says, glancing back at me with a knowing smile. “I’ve made sure the pantry is stocked with everything you might need for your baking experiments. Flour, sugar, all sorts of spices—there’s even some fancy chocolate I had imported. I can’t wait to taste what you come up with!”

I blink in surprise, her words surprising me. It’s a small gesture, but the thought that Rafaele would take the time to consider my interests—something so personal and yet so trivial—throws me. “Thank you, that’s really thoughtful.”

She nods, pleased, and leads me down a long corridor to a room at the end. She pushes open the door, revealing a space that feels both elegant and welcoming. The room is bathed in soft, natural light from large windows that overlook a sprawling back garden. There’s a cozy seating area by the window, with adelicate writing desk and a plush armchair that looks perfect for curling up with a book. The bed is large and inviting, draped in soft linens that look almost too beautiful to disturb.

The walls are a gentle shade of cream, accented with tasteful art that complements the room’s serene atmosphere. A vase of fresh flowers sits on the dresser, adding a touch of warmth and color. It’s not what I expected—far from the cold, impersonal space I had braced myself for.

“I hope this suits you,” Teresa says, watching me as I take in the room. “Mr. Lucchese wanted to make sure you’d be comfortable. All your things were delivered and put away, but let us know if you want to reorganize anything.”

I nod mutedly as I walk to the window, looking out at the expansive garden below, where a small fountain trickles softly amidst neatly trimmed hedges and vibrant flowerbeds. It’s a peaceful view, one that seems worlds away from the tension of the past few days.

“It’s beautiful,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. For the first time since arriving, I feel a small glimmer of something that might be comfort, a tentative sense of ease.

Teresa gives my arm a gentle squeeze, her eyes kind. “You’re going to be just fine here, Mrs. Lucchese. And remember, if you need anything at all, we’re just a call away.”

She leaves me, and I sit at the foot of the bed, letting the quiet of the room settle around me. I run my fingers over the soft fabric of the bedspread, trying to ground myself in the small comforts this place unexpectedly offers.

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