Chapter 41

[ 1,105 words ]

Delia’s POV

The tires of the Rolls-Royce screeched as the chauffeur pulled into the Kensington driveway. I didn’t wait for him to open the door. I threw it open myself and stormed toward the front entrance, my heart hammering a beat against my ribs. The opulence of my childhood home usually calmed me, but today, every gilded frame and curtain felt like it was mocking me.

“Mother!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings of the foyer.

“In the kitchen!” Mother’s voice drifted back, calm and domestic, as if the world wasn’t currently crumbling beneath my feet.

I marched into the kitchen, the scent of expensive spices and lemon zest hitting me like a physical wall. My mother was standing by the island, elegantly dressed even for a casual afternoon at home. I didn’t sit. I couldn’t. I started pacing the length of the marble floor, my heels clicking like a countdown.

“Are you going to tell me what’s eating you up, or am I supposed to guess?” Mother asked, not looking up from her task.

I opened my mouth to scream the truth, to tell her that Julian was a cold, unreachable statue, that he had abandoned me for Katia, and that my entire marriage felt like a high-end fraud. But then, Julian’s warning hissed in the back of my mind. No one is to know. If the world found out I wasn’t the “real” Mrs. Windsor in his heart, the prestige would vanish. I had to be careful. I had to protect the lie while fighting the war. Besides, I wasn’t sure it was Katia’s hand in that picture, but it just couldn’t be a coincidence; she was in France, and he took off to France without caring about what I thought as a newlywed.

“Mother,” I started, my voice trembling slightly. She hummed in response, encouraging me to continue. “You said Julian and Katia never met before, right? You’re absolutely sure they were strangers p>

Mother stopped what she was doing and looked at me, her expression firm. “Absolutely. They moved in different circles, Delia. Katia was a ghost, and Julian was… well, Julian. Why on earth are you asking this now p>

“I don’t know. Something just isn’t adding up here, Mother,” I said, stopping my pacing to lean against the counter. My mind was a hurricane of images: Katia’s pink nails, the photo on Julian’s phone, and the way he looked at her the time she came to the engagement party.

“What is it that isn’t adding up?” Martha asked, her eyes narrowing as she sensed the depth of my distress.

I took a deep breath, the secret burning my throat. “My husband left me on our wedding night, Mother. He didn’t just go for business. He went to France. And I think… I think he went to spend time with Katia p>

“What?” Mother’s voice was a sharp intake of air. She set her utensil down with a clatter. “Delia, that’s a heavy accusation. Are you sure? Why would he do such a thing p>

“I’m not 100% sure it was Katia’s hand in that picture he posted, but Mother… she has the same nails. The exact same shade, the same shape. It just doesn’t make sense. And the worst part?” I felt the hot sting of tears in my eyes, the humiliation finally breaking through my anger. “Julian won’t even eat the food I prepare. He won’t even share a bed with me. He gave me a separate room, Mother! In my own home! I’m the Mrs. Windsor, and I’m sleeping alone like a houseguest p>

I could see the wheels turning in my mother’s head, the Kensington instinct for self-preservation kicking into high gear. She didn’t look shocked for long; she looked calculated.

“Well,” Mother said, her voice dropping into that low, soothing tone she used when she was plotting a victory. “We can fix that. A marriage is a contract, Delia, and contracts need to be enforced p>

I looked at her, hope flickering in my chest. “How p>

“I will visit your house,” she stated, a small, cold smile playing on her lips. “I’ll stay for dinner. And then, when the evening ends and you two head toward separate wings, I will ask, quite loudly and quite innocently why my daughter and her husband aren’t sharing a room. I’ll make it impossible for him to say no without insulting the entire Kensington family. Don’t worry, darling. By the time I leave, he will be sharing a room with you. He has a reputation to uphold, and he won’t risk a scandal in front of his mother-in-law p>

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. A smile finally broke across my face, sharp and triumphant. My mother always knew how to play the game. If I couldn’t lure Julian into my bed with charm, I would trap him there with social obligation.

“Thank you, Mother,” I whispered, feeling the weight on my shoulders lift just a little.

I turned and left the mansion, my stride more confident than it had been all day. Julian could chase Katia’s ghost all he wanted, but tonight, the world and my mother would see him exactly where he belonged: by my side.

The drive back to the Windsor estate felt shorter this time. I spent the journey rehearsing my part, imagining the look on Julian’s face when he realized he couldn’t hide behind his “separate rooms” policy anymore. He had given me the name and the Rolls-Royce, but he hadn’t given me the man.

I thought about Katia in her Brooklyn office, probably feeling smug about her secret little trip to France. She thought she was winning because she had his attention for a few nights in the dark. But she didn’t have the law. She didn’t have the family. And she certainly didn’t have Martha Kensington on her side.

As the gates to the estate swung open, I looked at my reflection in the window. My nails were perfect. My hair was flawless. I was a Windsor now, and I was going to start acting like it. If Julian wanted to manage variables, he was about to find out that a Kensington mother was the one variable he couldn’t control.

I walked into the house, heading straight for my room to pick out the most expensive nightgown I owned. Tonight wasn’t just about a room; it was about reclaiming what was mine. I would make him forget about the woman in the photo. I would make him realize that the only hand he should be holding was the one that wore his ring.

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