Chapter 6 Cold Warms, Warm Glances

CHAPTER 6

The echoes of the gala still haunted Lisa the next morning – the flash of cameras, Dane's sneer, and Joseph's commanding voice that had silenced an entire hall.

Now she sat in the mansion's sunlit study, the grand windows doing nothing to warm the chill settling in her chest.

Joseph stood across from her, arms folded, his tone clipped and businesslike.

"There are rules to this arrangement", he said.

"Our marriage exists for appearances. You'll maintain your role when necessary, nothing more".

Lisa's lips parted slightly, but she didn't interrupt.

"Public events, we attend together. In private life, we remain separate. No questions about my business. No wandering into restricted parts of this house. And above all – keep your emotions out of this. That was our agreement".

Lisa lowered her gaze, her hands knotting in her lap.

But her thoughts betrayed her.

The way he shielded me... the way he told everyone I was his wife. Was that just part of this contract? Or was there something more?

Her chest tightened, an unwelcome flicker of hope slipping through her doubts.

Could it be... we've already begun to feel something for each other?

She quickly smothered the thought, afraid to let it linger.

Across from her, Joseph was a fortress again, his voice stripped of the fire he had shown at the gala.

But Lisa couldn't forget how it felt when his coat had shielded her from the world – when his words had silenced Dane with a single thunderous claim.

And no matter how strict his rules, that memory whispered a dangerous question into her heart.

Maybe - just maybe – Joseph Bronson wasn't all coldness after all.

*****

The mansion felt endless, its marble halls echoing with every step Lisa took. Determined not to feel like a stranger in her own home, she wandered, tracing her fingers across banisters and doors, memorizing turns.

But the farther she walked, the more she felt eyes on her.

Behind her, whispers pricked her ears.

"She doesn't belong here..."

"....won't last a month".

She spun around.

The staff froze – maids clutching their trays, a butler bowing his head too quickly. Fear flickered in their eyes, and silence swallowed the hall.

Lisa's chest tightened. Without another word, she turned away, unsettled.

She made her way toward Joseph's wing, her thoughts restless. Maybe he needed to know how she was being treated. Maybe –

Her steps halted.

Through the half–open door of his study, she glimpsed him seated at his desk, his gaze lowered. His hand lingered on his wedding ring, a faint smile ghosting across his lips.

Lisa's breath caught. He didn't look cold at all in the moment. He looked almost... human.

Quietly, she stepped back, not wanting him to see her.

But as she turned to leave, her eyes snagged on a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall.

A door she remembered clearly.

Do not enter this room, Joseph had warned.

His pulse quickened.

She told herself to walk away. To respect his rules.

But curiosity pressed harder than fear.

Her hand found the brass handle. Slowly, she pushed.

The hinges groaned softly, revealing a dim room layered with dust and shadows.

Lisa stepped inside, her eyes scanning the shelves, the faint scent of old paper and leather filling the air.

Then she froze.

On the wall, partly veiled by a forgotten curtain, hung a framed photograph.

Joseph. Younger. His arms draped lightly around a woman's shoulders.

A woman Lisa knew.

Lauren.

Her stomach lurched, the image twisting in her mind. Joseph's warning, the staff's whispers, his sudden bursts of protectiveness– it all tangled into something ugly.

They were together. He's still tied to her...

Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled back, her hand flying to her mouth.

She didn't wait to study the photograph again.

She turned and ran, her footsteps quick and uneven, until she shut herself inside her own room, her breath ragged, her chest aching.

Whatever she had begun to believe about Joseph the night before shattered into doubt.

Suffocated by what she had seen, Lisa slipped through the back escape door, desperate for air – desperate to be away from him.

The night greeted her with a cool whisper of freedom... until it shattered.

Flashbulbs exploded. Voices lunged from the shadows. "Mrs. Bronson! Over here! Look this way!"

Lisa staggered back a step, then another, her heel scraping against the pavement. The lights were blinding, the questions sharp and merciless.

She had never been hunted like this, never had strangers claw at her name, her life, her face.

Inside the mansion, a guard rushed in. "Sir, she's outside – the back door. Paparazzi surrounded her. CCTV picked it up".

Joseph's eyes darkened. His jaw tightened as he seized his coat and strode out without a word.

Outside, Lisa's breath came short, her back almost brushing the cold iron of the gates. Just as panic broke through her chest, weight settled across her shoulder – a coat, heavy and protective.

A strong arm pulled her forward

"Enough", Joseph's voice cut like steel, slicing through the frenzy. The flashes faltered under his glare as he shielded her and dragged her back inside.

But in the hall, his temper broke.

"Wake up, Lisa!" his voice thundered, ricocheting off the marble. "You're married to the Bronson family now. You might have hidden from your father's name with a false identity, but you can't hide from this. Enemies are watching. Stop acting weak!"

The words cut deep. Then he walked away, his footsteps leaving a silence louder than the crowd outside.

*****

Later, unable to sleep, Lisa clutched the coat tighter.

She hated its weight, hated the reminder of his words... and yet, she couldn't leave it lying around like some discarded thing.

Gathering her courage, she walked towards his study, rehearsing an apology she wasn't sure she meant.

But as she neared, voices bled through the half–open door.Joseph's, sharp and low:

"Keep an eye on Lauren".

Lisa froze, the apology dying on her lips, the coat heavy in her hands.

Her breath caught, her heart sinking like stone.

The pieces slid together with cruel precision.

He's still in love with her, Lisa thought bitterly.

My stepmother.