Page 10 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Briseis

The massive brown oak double doors close behind me with a loud thud when I step inside the mansion.

I smile at Wilkinson, the family butler who already holds a cup of steaming tea on a tray.

“Thank you.” I pick up my mug, inhaling the rich chamomile smell before sipping it a little, closing my eyes in pleasure when the hot drink instantly warms me up. “Glad to see you healthy.” Most of the staff here are old, but that’s Grandmother’s motto.

Until you are too sick to do the work, you damn well will show up for it. Otherwise, the door is always wide open without a recommendation letter.

“Ms. Dawson, you’re back.” He points to the hallway. “Your grandmother awaits you in the common room.”

With a nod, I walk down the narrow hall, my heels clicking loudly on the spotless golden marble glistening under the small chandeliers above me. I study the environment around me, noticing nothing has changed since I was here last.

Expensive paintings hang on the walls, showcasing different times from history, as Grandmother loves such themes. In addition, several portraits of the family dynasty gaze on with judgment, informing you they are watching you.

A wide staircase leads upstairs where there are five different wings, for each family member and guests too, giving privacy and the illusion of independence and isolation for those staying here… even though it’s false.

Whatever you do, everyone knows about it.

The hallway has several crossroads, one leading to the back of the house to the spacious kitchen, the other to the library, and another one to my father’s office, the gloomy room I was forbidden to enter after the time I spilled coffee all over one of his important contracts.

Gold, white, and beige dominate the color scheme in the mansion, giving a sense of peace but also a sense of power. Subtle hints of the legacy this family has.

Finally, I reach the last crossroad, opening up to the common room with several couches and chairs, all made from the finest wood, along with expensive crystal vases and the chandelier hanging above us. There are several more openings leading from it to the dining room—complete with a table able to hold up to fifty guests—and a party room with an open space where people can roam around freely or dance, depending on the style of party. From there, doors lead to a terrace and a magnificent garden.

According to some, it’s considered one of the most luxurious mansions in the country, yet standing here right now, I can’t help but feel lonely and slightly lost.

Maybe because the walls of this house never really welcomed me or became home; instead, it seems even the air I breathe here judges me for tainting the dynasty with my presence.

I press the book harder to my chest, reminding myself about the gift my grandma gave, which means everything has changed.

I’m no longer that little girl who came here and who everyone kicked around.

Stepping inside, I instantly spot Grandmother occupying her favorite chair in the right corner. She’s wearing a perfectly ironed purple dress, heels, and a pearl necklace graces her neck. Her hair and makeup are perfectly done. She sips coffee, holding a saucer in one hand and the cup in the other.

Taking a deep breath, ready to finally face it all, I say cheerfully, “Grandmother.”

She blinks at me, and then she scans me from head to toe, her expression staying neutral.

I move forward, wanting to go closer to her and wrap her in my arms, the hope in my chest blooming even brighter, but her raised, splayed palm stops me, and my brows furrow in confusion. “Turn around.” Too stunned by the request, I do as she says, not understanding what’s going on.

Once I’m facing her again, disappointment flashes on her face, and she shakes her head. “Well, I should have known better. You weren’t beautiful as a child, and the years have only added to the dreaded picture. Not to mention those eyes of yours that can scare anyone gazing into them.” I don’t even wince at her assessment of my looks; half of what she says is true anyway.

Beauty is not a word people associate with me, especially men, who never look at me twice.

Still too confused to get a hint, I say, “I wanted to thank you for the book.” Her brows rise. “You remembered how I love it.”

She snorts. “Eliot picked it.” Just with those three words, she crushes the hope in my heart, once again sinking me in ice-cold water, chilling my bones so much I resist the urge to rub my arms, knowing well this display of weakness won’t go unnoticed.

“I see,” I rasp through my dry throat, quickly taking a few sips of tea, so she won’t notice my trembling hands. “Why did you allow me to come back?” I decide there is no point in beating around the bush. If it wasn’t some kind of family reunion, then it has to do with his political career.

It’s what I thought all along. So why does this pain in my chest grow, threatening to send me to my knees to cry my heart out in disappointment?

“As you know, Howard finally decided to follow in his father’s footsteps. It’s a long way to go, but with the right strategy, he might become mayor. He needs to form the right connections first among other powerful families though. He’s a fool who didn’t think about it beforehand.” Dad is a snob who only looks at the heritage of people, and since some of the upper-class families now come from the bottom, it doesn’t surprise me much no one likes him.

Grandmother finishes her coffee and puts the cup on the small table next to her. She grabs a cigarette from it and lights it up, puffing the smoke around, and I fist the book harder, hating the smell of it, because it always reminds me of the time Dad beat me so hard I could barely breathe then locked me in the basement for a day, where they stored all her cigarettes.

“Daddy, please let me out.” I bang on the door, crying out when something brushes against my bare feet, but I can’t see it in the complete darkness. My pajamas barely cover me from the freezing cold in this place. “Daddy, please don’t leave me.”

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