Claire's POV
Just last night, before I went to bed, my phone buzzed. I glanced at it, expecting the usual notifications and froze.
250,000 dollars had been deposited into my account.
I almost screamed. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst through my chest. I had to sit down. The numbers wouldn't stop flashing in my mind, and for a moment, I just stared at the screen, unable to believe it was real.
It felt too good to be true. This sorted everything. And more.
I didn't even need the rest of the payment. Our mortgage needed just about 80,000 dollars to cover it. This was way more than we needed.
I decided to wait for a bit and send it to my mum when I leave tomorrow, just so it sounds believable that I actually did get an advance.
I slept too well last night. Finally relieved of the burden.
But, today was the day I would move into Louis's house. The thought made my stomach twist. The marriage wasn't even official yet, but the whole façade, the whole game begins now.
The weekend had arrived quickly, but it brought no relief. I paced my room, my footsteps soft against the carpet, heart hammering.
It was almost 6:30. Five minutes ago, I received a message from Louis.
Mr. Smith - ' Are you almost ready? Everything sorted?'
Yes, I replied,
Trying to make my fingers type calm when my hands were anything but. I'll be waiting.
Another message came:
Mr. Smith - The driver, Caleb, was on his way.
I had to get ready. And now, I was pacing again, nerves all over the place.
Downstairs, the house was quiet. My mom and grandma weren't up yet, and I was grateful.
Seven was the perfect time. I wouldn't have to explain why a driver was coming for a supposed business trip. I had to make everything look normal. Ordinary.
I carefully dragged my luggage downstairs: my box and duffel bag. That was it.
Anything more would draw questions, suspicions, especially from my grandmother's sharp eyes.
At the door, I paused, taking a deep breath, then slipped the box outside quietly. I didn't want to risk waking anyone with the clatter.
In the brief calm before leaving, I scribbled a note quickly, sticking it to the fridge:
"I'm heading out. I'll be in touch."
No more explanation than that. Enough to prevent worry but vague enough to avoid questions.
By 7:00, I spotted Caleb from the living room window. The car was painfully obvious, no one drove this kind of exquisite and expensive vehicle in my neighborhood.
I moved outside, careful not to startle anyone in the house.
He gave a polite nod. "Good morning, ma'am. I'm here to drive you to Mr. Smith's residence, allow me to assist you with your luggage."
"Oh, you don't have to," I said, my voice tight but steady.
"I insist, ma'am. Please, go have a seat."
I remained quiet, letting him take the duffel and box. The routine was simple, but my heart wouldn't stop racing. I watched as he carefully loaded everything into the trunk, making sure nothing tipped or shifted.
When he stepped back and opened the passenger door, I slipped in silently.
The engine hummed to life. And just like that, we were moving. Away from home, away from familiarity, and into the unknown that awaited at Louis's house.
By the time we arrive at the estate of Louis's home. I feel my nerves kicking in strong.
The estate was like a whole new world I'd never been to. Vastly different from my modest home at the town side.
The mansions that lined the private road in the estate were built like cathedrals, the buildings towering, the architecture was like it was from the old times, solemn and untouchable. Every building stood with different architectural elements.
I found myself glancing out the window, staring with blatant, unguarded surprise.
We quickly arrive at his home, and I'm utterly marveled. Calling it a home was a disservice, it was a palace. The mansion stood nearly three stories tall, its stone façade washed in warm light. Tall, arched windows stretched upward like, framed by intricate detailing that spoke of money, legacy, and power passed down through generations.
Everything about it was grand.
And it suddenly, very real.
My fingers curled into my palms as the car slowed to a stop.
This wasn't just where Louis lived. This was more than that. It was where I would be expected to live for the next few months.
The car came to a complete stop at the entryway leading to the parking garage.
"We have arrived at the house ma'am," Caleb informed, ending my curious and anxious stares, "You may now head in, your luggage would be sent up to your room. Mr. Smith awaits you."
My room, wow.
No turning back now.
"Thank you Caleb" I say, sincerely.
Louis' POV
I can hear the car come to a stop outside my home and I already know that she is here. I almost moved to a stand immediately but thought otherwise. I don't want to seem too obvious and desperate. She would be ushered in soon enough. I can wait.
I'd asked Betty, my home cook, to help fix some breakfast for us. Betty is like family to me, she has been since I was just a boy, cooking for my parents before they split. I decided I wanted her with me.
She had been like a mother ever since, offering a quiet calm I hadn't known I needed. Her presence in my home wasn't just helpful, it was comforting, a reminder that not everything in my life had been temporary.
In a brief moment, I hear her arrive, her soft footsteps echoing down the hallway as her small frame moves in.
She steps through the front door and into the living room area. her eyes sweeping across the large space in open marvel. A quiet wow escapes her lips as she walks further in, so taken by the house that she doesn't even notice me seated on the sofa in the living room.
She looks… adorable. The innocence of her smile catches me off guard, and I find myself relieved that she seems to like the place.
I clear my throat softly, trying to get her attention.
Her gaze snaps to me at once, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh…I didn't see you there. I'm sorry," she says quickly, her cheeks tingling in a light pink.
A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it.
"It's alright," I say evenly. "Take your time to look around. You'll be living here from now on."
"Oh… yeah," she says, hesitating before adding, "So, uh…where do I stay?"
I find myself unable to resist a little teasing.
"My room is up the stairs," I say casually, gesturing vaguely, "a little to the left. Benedict will help you up."
The look on her face makes it entirely worth it.
I let out a low chuckle before quickly disguising it as a cough. Her expression freezes in the most adorable shock, her eyes wide, lips parted, clearly scrambling for words.
God, I shouldn't enjoy this as much as I do.
"Sorry, I'm just messing with you," I add quickly. Her shoulders visibly relax, relief washing over her features. "Benedict will show you to your room."
As if summoned by the words, Benedict appears from the kitchen entrance.
"Welcome, Mrs. Smith," he says smoothly, bowing his head slightly as he gestures down the hall. "We've been expecting you."
She gasps, pure shock written all over her face at the name.
And to my own surprise… so am I.
"Mrs smith… I'm just Claire, Claire Montgomery" she protests quickly ,her eyes widened in shock as she fumbled with her bag strap. "Please, just call me Claire."
The immediate denial in her response settles like a heavy rock in my chest. I shouldn't be that offended but I am. She wasn't lying, she was still Claire Montgomery, for now.
But, she would be Mrs. Smith soon enough.
I glance briefly at Benedict, whose gaze met mine in similar confusion, he straightens at once.
"Of course," he says smoothly. "Claire, then."
I look back at her. "You'll have to forgive him," I say evenly.
She nods, still taken aback
"Come on," I add, standing from the sofa. "Your room's this way."
For just a second, my gaze flickers back to Benedict. "Make sure she's comfortable."
He nods, already reaching for her bag.
As she follows him down the hall, I remain where I am, listening to her footsteps fade.