DASHIELL
My heart was pounding in my chest as we made our way up the stone steps toward the towering oak doors. Calling this place a mansion felt like an understatement, it was more like a baby castle. The sheer size of the Astor estate made my family's house look like a cozy cottage.
Before we could even knock or ring the bell (I wasn't sure what the protocol was and my anxiety was making everything feel ten times louder), the grand door swung open from the inside. A middle-aged gentleman in a perfectly pressed tailcoat stood there and gave a small, formal bow.
"Welcome home, Master Alexander," he said in a polished, neutral tone.
I glanced at Alexander, expecting him to acknowledge the greeting, but he didn't even pause. He simply stepped inside, walking deeper into the massive foyer without a word. I turned to the butler and offered a small, awkward smile.
"Thank you," I murmured.
The butler nodded politely, but his eyes flicked to Alexander's retreating back with the barest hint of resignation, like he was used to this.
I hurried after my husband, my steps still a little stiff from last night. The foyer was breathtaking , high ceilings, marble floors, and walls lined with original paintings that looked like they belonged in a museum. Each piece must have cost a fortune. I tried not to stare too obviously, but my eyes kept drifting to the artwork, the crystal chandeliers, the sheer opulence of it all.
As we walked further in, voices drifted from what I assumed was the living room. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. Alexander didn't slow down or offer any reassurance. He just kept moving like this was any other evening.
The moment we stepped into the living room, the conversation died instantly.
The silence was thick and awkward. Everyone turned to look at us.
Gregory Astor sat in a large leather armchair, looking every bit the powerful patriarch. Two women, Alexander's sisters, I assumed were seated on the elegant sofa. Elena looked poised and sharp, Victoria more dramatic with perfectly styled hair. Their mother, Celine Astor, stood near the fireplace, elegant and strikingly beautiful.
No one said a word. The tension was so heavy it felt suffocating.
I swallowed hard and forced a polite smile. "Hi…"
Only Gregory spoke, his voice measured and formal. "Dashiell. How are you? Thank you for coming over on such short notice."
I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady even though my hands were trembling slightly at my sides. "I'm… doing well, thank you, Mr. Astor. Thank you for inviting us."
Before anyone else could respond, a staff member appeared in the doorway. "Dinner is served."
Elena and Victoria stood up smoothly and walked toward the dining room without a word to us. Alexander didn't look fazed at all, he just looked bored, like none of this touched him.
I glanced at him, searching for any reaction, but his face remained blank. We followed the others into the large, formal dining room.
The table was enormous, set with fine china and crystal glasses. At the far end, a man who had to be Anthony sat already. He had the same strong bone structure as Alexander, but with blond hair and bright blue eyes. The resemblance was there, but the difference was striking.
When my eyes landed on Celine Astor again, I understood immediately where the boys got their looks. She was stunning, long dark hair cascading down her back, bright blue eyes, and features that made her look far younger than she must be. In my opinion, Alexander was still more handsome, but objectively, their mother was breathtaking.
Celine gestured gracefully to the table. "Please, everyone, take your seats."
Gregory moved to the head of the table. I sat down next to Alexander, my hands folded tightly in my lap. Anthony said nothing, just sipped his wine, watching everything with cool detachment.
The silence stretched again, heavy and uncomfortable.
Celine finally broke it, her voice smooth and polite. "Welcome to the family, Dashiell. I've heard a lot about you."
I managed a small smile and replied as politely as I could. "Thank you, ma'am. I've heard a lot about you too."
She let out a soft scoff, the sound light but cutting. "I doubt that."
I blinked, shocked by the subtle dismissal, but said nothing.
Celine smiled serenely and gestured to the food. "Dig in, everyone."
She turned to Anthony with obvious affection. "Darling, this is your favorite. Please eat well, you're looking too thin these days."
Anthony gave her a charming smile. "I'll try, Mother. You worry too much."
Minutes passed with the clink of silverware and low conversation. The sisters asked me a few surface-level questions, how I was settling into the hospital, what my specialty was and I answered as best I could, keeping my replies short and polite.
But no one spoke to Alexander.
Not a single word.
It was like he wasn't even in the room.
Elena and Victoria chatted with their mother and Anthony, Gregory occasionally interjecting, but Alexander might as well have been invisible. The exclusion was so blatant it made my stomach twist with discomfort. I kept glancing at him, but his expression remained completely blank, he didn't even touch the food.
Then it started.
Anthony took a sip of wine and spoke in a light, civil tone, but the words carried a sharp edge. "So, Alexander… still terrorizing the OR staff, or have you moved on to terrorizing your new husband instead?"
Elena let out a soft, amused laugh, but her eyes flicked nervously toward Alexander for a split second. "Be nice, Anthony. He might actually like this one."
Victoria smirked, swirling her wine glass slowly. "I still can't believe Dad managed to find someone actually willing to marry into 'this family'. Quite the achievement."
It was obvious what she meant by "this family."
She wasn't talking about the Astors in general.
She was talking about Alexander.
The implication hung in the air like smoke, who in their right mind would willingly marry him?
Gregory didn't stop them. He just watched with a tight expression, like this was normal family entertainment.
Celine simply smiled and said nothing, cutting her food with elegant precision.
I sat there, shocked and disgusted by how casually cruel they were being. They spoke and treated Alexander like he was some kind of defective object in the room, cold, heartless, and barely human. No one defended him or looked at him directly.
Alexander, for his part, didn't react at all, as if the conversation had nothing to do with him. His face was completely blank, the same unreadable mask he wore at the hospital.
My hands tightened around my fork. I wanted to say something, to defend him, to tell them they were being awful but the words stuck in my throat. This was his family. This was their dynamic. And I was the outsider who had just walked into it.
The tension pressed down on me, making my chest feel tight. My brain was already overwhelmed by the formal setting, the unspoken rules, the way everyone seemed to be performing except Alexander, who simply… existed in the middle of it all.
I stayed quiet, forcing myself to take small bites of food, but inside I was reeling.
This dinner was going to be even longer and more uncomfortable than I had feared