Chapter 5: A Blast From The Past
Ethan sat in his private study, going through the invitations and correspondence that had piled up over the past week. One particular letter caught his eye—an invitation to a charity ball. The supposed purpose was to raise funds for the lower district and investigate the increasing number of disappearances plaguing the city. Ethan, however, saw through the charade.
"More like an excuse to line their own pockets," he muttered, his fingers tightening around the parchment. The only reason they had invited him was because his pockets were as deep as a black hole. He exhaled sharply, tossing the letter onto his desk before rubbing his temples.
Before he could decide how to proceed, a subtle knock on the door drew his attention. One of his informants entered, bowing slightly before speaking.
"My lord, I bring news regarding the duchess."
Ethan's golden eyes flickered with interest, though his expression remained unreadable. "Go on."
"She received a visitor earlier today—a man. They seemed well-acquainted."
For a brief moment, something sharp and unspoken passed through Ethan's chest, but he quickly dismissed it. He had no reason to intrude upon Annalise's privacy. If she had a past before him, that was her business.
Still, he found himself lingering on the thought longer than he should have.
Earlier that day, Annalise had been seated in the duchess's study—a grand yet cold room that reeked of history and tradition. Every duchess of Vornhart had overseen the household from this very space, but to the people within these walls, she was not yet a true duchess. She felt it in the silence, in the way the servants barely acknowledged her presence unless duty required it.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. The door creaked open, and in stepped Humphrey, the head butler, a man in his sixties with an air of indifference that had not wavered since the day she arrived. His face remained as expressionless as ever as he spoke.
"Your Grace, you have a visitor. They are waiting in the drawing room."
Annalise straightened. "Who is it?"
Humphrey merely tilted his head, as if the answer were beneath him. "A man named Emmett."
Her breath hitched. Emmett.
Without another word, she rose and made her way to the drawing room, her hands unconsciously tightening around the folds of her gown. When she stepped inside, her heart clenched at the sight of him.
Emmett stood by the window, his arms crossed, his expression torn between anger and disbelief. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through it too many times. His broad frame, hardened from years of labor at the forge, seemed tense, rigid. And when his eyes met hers, there was an unspoken weight in them that made her stomach twist.
"Annalise," he said, his voice lower than she remembered.
She swallowed. "Emmett."
He took a step closer, then stopped, exhaling harshly. "You actually did it. You married him."
She didn't know what to say. No words could soften the blow.
He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "I was gone for a few weeks—weeks—and I come back to find my childhood friend bound to Ethan Vornhart. Do you have any idea what it felt like to hear that? To hear that you married the man who—"
"Emmett, please." Annalise's voice wavered, but she held his gaze. "I didn't do this lightly. It had to be done."
He scoffed. "Had to? You mean you had no choice?" His jaw clenched. "If that bastard forced you into this—"
"He didn't." The words came out sharper than she intended. "It was my choice."
Silence stretched between them.
Emmett searched her face for answers, for something that would make sense of it all, but all he found was determination. It made his anger falter, but not his pain.
"Damn it, Annalise," he whispered, his voice raw. "I would've found another way. I would've helped you."
Tears burned at the edges of her vision, but she refused to let them fall. "There was no other way. This… this was the only path I could take."
Emmett ran a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. "I don't like this. I don't trust him. And if he ever—"
She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. "I know. And if I ever regret this, if I ever need you, I know you'll be there. Right?"
His fingers tightened around hers for just a moment before he reluctantly nodded. "Always."
And that was enough.
Later that evening, Ethan stood at the base of the grand staircase, already dressed for the ball. His tailored suit gleamed in the dim light—black with intricate gold threading, designed in the futuristic style of their era. The sharp lines and metallic embellishments gave him a regal, almost intimidating presence.
He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, his mind still lingering on the report from earlier. He had let it go, but the curiosity remained.
A sudden noise from upstairs pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced up just in time to see her.
Annalise descended the stairs in a gown of shimmering gold. It was simple yet elegant, molded to her form as if it had been crafted solely for her. The soft glow of the chandeliers caught the delicate embroidery, making her look almost ethereal.
Ethan found himself momentarily breathless.
She was beautiful.
And then it struck him—wife. His wife. The word still felt unfamiliar, but as he watched her approach, he realized he liked the way it sounded.
Annalise met his gaze, and though she kept her expression composed, there was something in her eyes—something unreadable.
She had noticed his distance. He had been civil, always polite, but there was a wall between them. And though she had known what she was walking into, it still hurt.
Ethan offered his arm. "Shall we?"
She hesitated for only a moment before taking it. "Of course."
And with that, they stepped into the carriage, heading toward a night that would change everything.