After nearly an hour of wandering through corridors wrapped in velvet and marble, Isabella, Leo, Sophie and parents found themselves gathered again near the entrance hall. The tour had been breathtaking—almost overwhelming—and reality was only now beginning to settle in.
"So," Christian cleared his throat, adjusting his coat, "we'll need to check into the hotel before this evening. Do you know if our luggage was unloaded?"Sophie blinked."You mean… we're leaving? Right now?"
"Well, not this second," Christian said, "but soon. We shouldn't impose longer than—"
He didn't get to finish.
One of the maids stepped forward, hands folded neatly in front of her.
"Oh, sir," she said with a gentle, practiced smile, "there is no need for a hotel. Your stay has already been arranged here, at Ashwell Mansion."
Isabella froze."Oh," she managed. "We're staying… here?"
"Yes," the maid continued. "The Ashwell family extends their hospitality to all guests of the ceremony. Your rooms have been prepared."
Christian hesitated — the idea of sleeping inside this mansion felt unexpectedly intimate.
"That is… very generous," he said slowly.
"It is tradition," the maid replied simply. "This house welcomes those the family trusts."
Leo leaned closer to Isabella and whispered:
"Trusted? Us? Did they invite the right people?"
Isabella bit back a smile."Don't question it. Just… accept it."
The maids led them up a grand staircase, the railing smooth and warm under their hands, polished from decades of touch. They turned down a long corridor, where sunlight poured through tall arched windows, warming the gold-threaded carpet beneath their feet.
Finally, the doors were opened.
And the rooms…
They weren't rooms.
They were worlds.
Isabella's room had:
A canopy bed draped in soft, white silk,
A balcony overlooking the rose gardens,
A vanity lined with glass perfume bottles,
And a dressing screen embroidered with silver constellations.
She stepped inside slowly, afraid her footsteps might disturb something sacred.The air smelled like jasmine and linen.Warm. Calm. Safe.
Leo's and Sophie"s room was no less grand—dark oak furniture, shelves filled with antique books, and a massive window seat overlooking the lake.They ran their hands across the carved headboard.
"Okay," Leo whispered. "I officially feel like royalty."
Christian's room held heavy velvet curtains and deep burgundy tones. The kind of room that spoke of authority, legacy, and respect.
The maid gave a polite bow."If you require anything—anything at all—ring the bell near your bed. Dinner will be served at eight. Formal attire is requested."
With that, she and the others stepped out, the door clicking softly behind them.
For a long moment, the three stood still in the quiet of their separate rooms, separated now but united in one thought:
This wasn't just hospitality.
This was an invitation into the heart of something bigger.
Something old.Something wealthy.Something secret.
And for the first time since they arrived…
They all wondered:
Who exactly is getting married?And why were they chosen to be here?