Chapter 7- He's family visit. she stood for him

The Monroe Mansion

In the dim light of Victor Monroe's study, a tense silence hung in the air as Victor, his wife Margaret, and with Margaret's sister, Claudia sat together. The coldness in Victor's eyes mirrored the harsh winter morning outside, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the room, a hard glint of ambition in every line of his expression. For Victor, the deal was all that mattered—aligning himself with Adrian Blackwell and securing financial strength through the marriage of Isabella to the man feared by so many.

Margaret, on the other hand, looked tense, her hands clenched in her lap. She was no saint, but Isabella had been in her care since she was a child, and the decision to hand her over to Adrian, of all people, was beginning to weigh heavily on her. Adrian Blackwell was known not only for his wealth and power but for the fear he commanded—stories of ruthless vengeance and a cruel temperament were whispered in high circles, and the thought of Isabella being at his mercy made her uneasy.

"Victor," she ventured, her voice softer than usual, "Are you sure about this arrangement? Adrian Blackwell is not exactly… safe."

Victor's eyes turned toward her, a hint of irritation flashing across his face. "I don't care if he's a monster, Margaret. I didn't raise Isabella out of charity; she owes us for years of care. Besides, the alliance with the Blackwell family will secure our standing for generations."

Margaret's worry only deepened. She glanced at Claudia, who wore a smug expression, clearly reveling in Isabella's fate. Claudia had never been fond of her, always seeing her as competition. Now that Isabella was out of the way, Claudia believed she'd have a better chance to rise in society.

"She'll adapt," Victor added sharply, cutting off any further objections. "Isabella has always been meek. She'll follow orders as she always has. Now, enough of this. We have to prepare for the benefits we'll reap from this union."

Margaret swallowed her fear, unwilling to push any further. She knew Victor's mind was set, and any further argument would only escalate things. She offered a silent prayer for Isabella, hoping the girl would find a way to survive in the cold, dangerous world of Adrian Blackwell.

---

Blackwell Estate

As dawn broke over the grand Blackwell mansion, the first rays of sunlight filtered into the lavish guest bedroom where Isabella lay, drifting in a fragile, dreamless sleep. The events of the previous night haunted her mind even in rest, but she had at least found a small sense of relief when Adrian chose not to touch her, despite his initial intentions. She remembered the unexpected gentleness in his gaze when he finally lay down next to her without reaching for her, though his silence had still been laced with a chill that reminded her of his authority.

Now, as she stirred, Isabella reached out instinctively, only to find the other side of the bed cold and empty. Adrian had risen long before her. She sat up slowly, her gaze drifting over the unfamiliar opulence of the room, each luxurious detail a stark contrast to the life she had known.

A soft knock on the door broke her thoughts. The same maid from the previous day entered, her expression formal as she curtsied.

"Good morning, Miss. The master has requested your presence downstairs. He asks that you dress neatly, as his family will be visiting today."

"His family?" Isabella murmured, feeling a fresh wave of apprehension. She hadn't anticipated facing his relatives so soon, especially given the fragile footing she was still on with Adrian himself. She nodded quietly, dismissing the maid, and turned to prepare herself for whatever awaited her.

---

Downstairs, Adrian was waiting in the main sitting room, a place that mirrored the cold elegance of the entire mansion, filled with dark tones, high windows, and rich, expensive furnishings. He stood by one of the large windows, his gaze distant as he watched the morning unfold. Hearing her approach, he turned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her appearance. She had chosen a modest dress, her posture nervous, yet her beauty and elegance were undeniable.

Adrian's expression softened just barely, though his tone remained firm. "Listen carefully," he said, his voice low and edged with warning. "When my family arrives, you are not to call me 'master.' Understood?"

She nodded quickly, relieved by this single reprieve from the cold role he had cast her in. Adrian continued, his gaze holding hers with a sharp intensity.

"You will address me as your husband," he said, a hint of dark amusement in his tone. "Or you may use 'sweetheart,' 'honey,' or any other term that suits the role of a loving wife. But make no mistake—this is an act, and you will follow it. I won't tolerate mistakes."

Isabella swallowed hard, nodding. She knew better than to argue. His eyes lingered on her a moment longer, and she felt the weight of his expectations press down on her like a shackle. He nodded once, satisfied, and moved toward the doorway as the sound of approaching voices signaled his family's arrival.

---

The room grew tense as Adrian's family entered. His father was the first to step through the threshold, a tall, silent figure with a demeanor as cold as Adrian's. He had the same piercing gaze, but his face was lined with age, and a heavy aura of authority clung to him. Isabella noticed the distance in Adrian's father's expression—he seemed detached, almost dismissive of everything around him.

Behind him, however, came a woman who instantly radiated sharpness and disdain. Adrian's stepmother, Eliza, carried herself with an air of entitlement, her gaze sweeping over Isabella with a hint of mockery. Adrian's half-brother, Draco, trailed after her, wearing a smug smirk as his eyes took in his older brother and his new bride.

"Adrian," Eliza greeted her stepson, her tone as sharp as her features. "I see you finally decided to settle down, though I'm surprised you chose someone so… delicate." Her gaze shifted to Isabella, her smile thin and mocking.

Draco chimed in, leaning against the doorway with a sneer. "Surprising, indeed. I expected Adrian's wife to be more… resilient. This one looks like she might faint at the sight of blood."

Isabella felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, her hands clenching into fists as she tried to keep her composure. The hostility from Adrian's family was palpable, and she could feel herself shrinking under their disdainful gazes. But before she could retreat, something within her stirred—a spark of defiance, a sudden determination to prove them wrong.

Summoning her courage, Isabella lifted her chin, her voice steady but firm. "With all due respect, I may be delicate, but I am stronger than I appear." Her gaze met Eliza's and Sebastian's, her quiet strength taking them by surprise.

Adrian, watching from the side, felt a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He hadn't expected Isabella to stand up to his family, and he found himself appreciating her bravery. It was a small, bold act, but it gave him a sense of satisfaction to see her defy the people he, too, held little warmth for.

Eliza's smile faded, replaced by a cold glare. "Delicate and outspoken," she murmured, clearly unimpressed. "Adrian, I do hope you plan to keep her in check. We wouldn't want a softhearted little thing tarnishing the Blackwell name."

Isabella felt a sting of hurt at the insult, but she kept her gaze steady, refusing to let them see her falter.

Adrian, noticing the glint of anger in his stepmother's eyes, finally spoke, his tone calm but laced with warning. "Isabella is my wife," he said coolly. "And I'll decide how she will be handled. I advise you not to overstep, Eliza."

Eliza's mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing as she realized Adrian would not allow her to undermine his authority. For the first time since entering the room, Draco fell silent, his smug expression fading as he caught the severity in Adrian's tone.

Adrian placed a firm hand on Isabella's shoulder, a subtle reminder of his control, but also a shield against his family's prying eyes. "Isabella, my love," he murmured, his voice deliberately gentle. "Why don't you help me entertain our guests? I'm sure they'd love to get to know you better."

Isabella glanced up at him, catching the flash of amusement in his eyes. She realized he was testing her, watching to see how she would respond. Gathering her composure, she nodded, a small smile on her lips as she played along.

"Yes, sweetheart," she replied softly, the endearment foreign on her tongue but satisfying as she watched Eliza and Draco shift uncomfortably. She could sense Adrian's approval, and it gave her a renewed sense of resolve.

In that moment, Isabella knew she had found her place, even if it was a fragile one, in the icy walls of the Blackwell estate.