Wedding Night

Ellen stepped into her room and closed the door softly behind her. She took a moment to look around, taking in the luxurious surroundings. The room was massive, much larger than any she had ever stayed in. Rich, dark wood furniture contrasted with soft, cream-colored walls. Heavy curtains framed the windows, and a grand four-poster bed sat in the center, covered in plush bedding.

Her luggage was already there, placed neatly near the bed. Ellen smiled wryly, remembering how Colleen had helped her pack. She chuckled softly, thinking about how Colleen had teasingly slipped some lingerie into her suitcase, saying it would help her on the wedding night. The irony wasn't lost on Ellen—there hadn't been anything to help with that night.

She walked over to the balcony doors and stepped outside. The cool night air brushed against her skin, and she took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. She stood there for a while, taking in the view of the sprawling estate. As she watched, a car drove down the long driveway and exited the property. She recognized the car immediately; it was Mason's.

Ellen sighed. She knew this part of the story. Mason had left her alone on their wedding night to go to work, not even bothering to tell her. She shook her head, thinking about what a wedding night it had been.

Returning inside, she decided to clean herself. After a quick shower, she changed into something comfortable and decided to explore the mansion.

Wandering through the halls, she marveled at the sheer size of the place. Eventually, she found her way to the kitchen. It was spacious and well-equipped, with gleaming appliances and polished countertops. Ellen's stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten much at the reception. She decided to make herself some dinner.

She rummaged through the pantry and fridge, finding everything she needed to make spaghetti. Cooking helped to calm her nerves, and soon she was seated at the kitchen island, twirling spaghetti onto her fork and savoring each bite.

As she was halfway through her meal, the doorbell rang. Ellen quickly wiped her mouth and got up to answer it. When she opened the door, she found a tall man wearing a suit and glasses standing there. He gave her a small smile.

"Ellen, it's nice to see you again," he said politely.

Ellen recognized him immediately. They had met just a few hours ago at the reception. "Philip, right? Mason's assistant?"

"Yes, that's correct," Philip replied. "I apologize for disturbing you."

"It's okay," Ellen said, stepping aside to let him in. "Please, come in."

They moved to the living room and sat down, Ellen taking a seat on one of the plush sofas while Philip settled into an armchair across from her.

Ellen watched Philip as he sat down in the armchair across from her, his posture relaxed yet professional. He adjusted his glasses and gave her a warm smile, making her feel somewhat at ease despite the strangeness of the situation.

As she settled into the plush sofa, Ellen's mind wandered to the man in front of her. Philip wasn't just Mason's assistant; he was one of his most loyal friends. She remembered reading about Philip's unwavering loyalty to Mason. He had been by Mason's side through thick and thin, helping him with his business empire.

More importantly, Philip had been the one to help Mason get back on his feet after the tragedy that had befallen the Coldwell family.

"Mason asked me to arrange everything for you," Philip began. "He values his privacy, so he doesn't keep a maid or a driver on staff. However, someone will come to clean the house periodically. Additionally, Mason wanted to arrange for a private chef to prepare your meals, and—"

Ellen held up her hand to stop him. "I appreciate the offer, but I can manage. I love cooking."

Philip nodded. "Very well, if that's what you prefer." He then placed a set of car keys on the coffee table. "There's a car ready for you to use."

Ellen stared at the keys for a moment before looking back at Philip. "I don't know how to drive," she admitted.

Philip's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh, really? Well, in that case, I would advise discussing with Mason about hiring a personal driver for you."

Ellen bit her lip, thinking about her real life. Why would she know how to drive when she had always used the bus? She never had the money to buy a car. But if she had the chance to live longer in this world, she might consider learning how to drive.

"That sounds like a good idea," she finally said. "I'll talk to him about it."

Philip smiled and nodded. "Very well, Ellen. If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to let me know."

"Thank you, Philip," Ellen said, giving him a small smile in return. "I appreciate your help."

With that, Philip took his leave, and Ellen was left all alone again in that grand living room.

***

Mason was engrossed in the documents spread out on his desk, the numbers and charts demanding his full attention. The soft glow of the desk lamp cast a warm light over the papers, illuminating the dark, polished wood of his expansive desk. He barely registered the sound of the door opening until it burst wide with a loud bang.

"I can't believe you're here on your wedding night," came a familiar voice, laced with disbelief and annoyance.

Mason didn't need to look up to know who it was. Only one person had the audacity to enter his office without knocking first. "It's none of your business, Philip," Mason replied curtly, his eyes still fixed on the documents.

Philip walked in with his usual air of confidence and took a seat in the chair opposite Mason's desk. He leaned back casually, studying Mason with a critical eye.

"I just came from your house," Philip began, his tone lighter but edged with concern. "Met Ellen again. She's a beautiful woman. Kind-hearted, polite, but unfortunately wasted by her own husband."

Mason sighed and put down the document he was holding, his gaze finally meeting Philip's. His eyes were cold and hard, a stark contrast to Philip's warm and expressive demeanor. "What do you want, Philip?" Mason asked sharply.

Philip didn't flinch under Mason's sharp gaze. He was used to this. "I just feel pity for Ellen," he said, his voice steady. "She's supposed to have her husband by her side, not alone in that big mansion. Especially not on her wedding night."

Mason didn't comment, his eyes flicking back to the papers on his desk. He picked up another document and resumed reading, effectively ending the conversation in his mind.

Philip leaned forward, undeterred. "I'm just saying, even though you married because of the arrangement, it's not wrong to start enjoying your new life."

Mason responded with a noncommittal "Hmm," not looking up from his work. His jaw was set, and the tension in his shoulders was visible even as he tried to maintain his focus on the documents.

Philip studied Mason for a moment longer, his own thoughts drifting back to the man Mason used to be before the tragedy struck the Coldwell family. He remembered a time when Mason was full of life, his laughter echoing through the halls of this very office. But those days felt like a distant memory now. Mason had changed, and Philip feared that he might never find happiness again.

I hope you can find happiness, Mason.