I stood outside the wedding hall, saying goodbye to guests as they trickled out toward their cars. I really was the talk of the day.
It was 8:30 p.m. The last guest had just left after offering me hollow congratulations. I sighed, thinking to myself. I got married today to a man I've never even seen, my own wedding turned into a public embarrassment, and I couldn't even tell my best friend it was happening. My thoughts spiraled until my head throbbed with the weight of it all.
The man in the suit, Mr. Suit, as I'd decided to call him for now approached. "It's time, ma'am. We should leave."
I nodded, forcing myself together, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. "Wait, I haven't packed my things yet." I remembered how rushed everything had been that morning.
"An assistant will collect them tomorrow," he said simply, and walked off toward the car.
Minutes later, a long black luxury car pulled up, sleek and silent, like it belonged to the road more than the road belonged to it. The doors opened with a soft, weighted motion. Inside, the leather seats sat pristine and untouched, the air cool and faintly scented with something expensive. Everything about it screamed wealth without ever needing to say a word.
The ride to the mansion passed in a blur of spiraling thoughts. What happens from here? Is this a new beginning, or the start of something worse? I barely registered the man's voice until it repeated itself. "...Crew. Mrs. Crew!" Mr. Suit called again.
"Sorry, what did you say?"
"We're here."
Mrs. Crew. I still couldn't believe I'd become that person overnight.
The drive had taken about forty minutes. Mr. Suit stepped out and opened my door. I climbed out slowly, and the car pulled away, leaving me standing alone in front of the most beautiful building I'd ever seen.
Clean white walls stretched wide beneath a canopy of tall pillars, windows glinting gold in the fading light. A garden bloomed neatly around the wide path leading to the entrance, every flower placed with careful precision. I'd never stood anywhere like it in my entire life.
I walked toward the entrance, where a man in his late forties or early fifties waited to greet me. He stood tall, calm, dressed in an immaculate black suit and crisp white shirt, every part of him radiating quiet discipline.
"Welcome, Mrs. Crew. My name is Benson Williams, your butler. You may call me Benson." He gestured to a woman beside him. "This is Rosa. She'll be your personal maid starting today. Call on her for anything you need." Rosa, a warm-faced woman in her forties, smiled and nodded. I smiled back, grateful for even that small kindness.
"These are the house maids," Benson continued, motioning to four young women in matching dark blue uniforms. "They handle the household chores. Feel free to request changes to anything you find unsatisfactory." He gestured toward another group. "And the kitchen staff, they'll prepare your meals from now on."
"Welcome, Mrs. Crew," the staff greeted in unison, polite and practiced.
"Thank you," I replied, still overwhelmed by the sheer scale of it all.
"Rosa will show you to your room," Benson finished, before nodding and walking off, the staff dispersing behind him.
"Let's get you out of that dress," Rosa said gently, taking my hand.
"Thank you, Rosa."
"Please, just Rosa." She smiled and led me inside.
We climbed the stairs to the first floor and stopped before a heavy door. It opened quietly into a wide, calm room. Soft light filtering through tall curtained windows, a large bed dressed in smooth linens waiting at its center, small lamps glowing gently on either side. A sitting area with two chairs occupied one corner. Everything about it felt peaceful, deliberate, unlike anything I'd known growing up.
"Would you like to shower or eat first?" Rosa asked. My stomach answered before I could, growling loud enough to make her laugh softly. "Dinner it is, then. But let's get you out of this dress first."
She helped me undo the suffocating gown, then led me through a door on the far side of the room. "After you," she said, gesturing for me to enter first.
I stepped into a walk-in closet nearly the size of a small bedroom, warm light lining the ceiling. To my right, rows of women's clothing filled the space, dresses arranged by color, shoes lined below them, shelves of bags and jewelry organized with careful precision. "Mr. Crew made sure everything was ready before your arrival," Rosa explained. "If anything isn't to your taste, let me know and it will be changed."
I turned to my left. That side sat completely bare. Empty racks. Empty shelves. Nothing.
"Why is that side empty?" I asked.
"Temporary," Rosa said simply, "pending when your things arrive."
"Aren't Mr. Crew and I supposed to be sharing a room?"