By the third morning, the house had learned my routine. That knowledge sat on my shoulders like a weight.
Breakfast at eight. A walk through the east corridor at nine. Silence where there should have been casual chatter. Eyes that shifted away a second too late. Doors that closed softly but deliberately as I passed.
They were watching and they were waiting.
I learned quickly that the Ashbridge estate did not announce its battles. It dressed them up as courtesies.
The morning's schedule arrived on my phone without a knock this time.
Luncheon. Twelve. Garden Pavilion.
No sender. No option to decline.
The garden pavilion was all glass and light, a cruel contrast to the tension that sat coiled beneath the surface. Sunlight spilled across polished stone. White flowers bloomed in perfect, obedient rows.
The women were already there when I arrived.
Daniel's mother. Two aunts. A cousin whose name I had heard but never learned to attach to a personality. Evelyn sat among them, composed as ever, her posture flawless.
Every chair but one was occupied.
The empty seat waited for me.
"Good afternoon," I said, pleasantly.
They responded in unison, voices smooth, rehearsed.
I sat.
Daniel's mother folded her hands.
"We thought it would be good," she began, "to spend time together. To… welcome you properly."
"That's kind," I replied.
"It's necessary," Evelyn added softly. "You represent the family now."
I smiled.
"Then I hope you'll correct me when I misstep."
The words were polite. The message was not.
Lunch unfolded slowly.
Comments drifted like harmless observations, each one designed to test me.
"You're adjusting well," an aunt remarked. "Not everyone handles attention so gracefully."
"I've always been adaptable."
"Daniel prefers discretion," his mother said. "He values women who know when to stay silent."
I met her gaze.
"Then we'll balance each other," I said. "I value knowing when silence becomes dangerous."
A pause followed. Subtle. Collective.
Evelyn watched me closely, her expression unreadable.
"You speak with confidence," she said. "Especially for someone in your position."
"My position changes depending on who's asking."
Her lips curved.
"That sounds like defiance."
"It's self-awareness."
For the first time, someone laughed. Not kindly. Not cruelly either.
The conversation shifted.
When dessert arrived, Daniel's mother leaned forward.
"There are rumors," she said lightly. "That the video wasn't your first indiscretion."
The table stilled.
I set my spoon down carefully.
"I'm sure there are," I said. "Rumors are cheaper than investigations."
Evelyn's gaze sharpened.
"You should be careful," she said. "People will believe what aligns with their expectations."
"Then perhaps," I replied, "they should expect me to stop being accommodating."
The silence this time was unmistakable.
Lunch ended shortly after.
As I stood to leave, Evelyn rose as well.
"Walk with me," she said.
It wasn't a request.
We moved along the garden path, heels clicking in sync. The estate stretched around us, immaculate and unforgiving.
"You're enjoying this," she said after a moment.
"Enjoying?" I echoed.
"Pushing them. Watching them react."
"I'm learning," I said. "There's a difference."
She stopped walking and turned to face me.
"You think Daniel will protect you."
"I think he needs me."
Her eyes darkened.
"He doesn't need anyone."
"Then he shouldn't have married me."
That landed.
"You don't understand him," she said quietly.
"Neither do you," I replied. "Not anymore."
Her smile returned, thin and sharp.
"You're brave," she said. "Or foolish."
"I've heard that before."
She leaned closer.
"You won't win," she said softly. "This family always closes ranks."
"Then I won't fight them head-on."
Her gaze flicked up, curious despite herself.
"I'll make them turn on each other."
I left her standing there.
That evening, Daniel found me in the library.
"You survived lunch," he said.
"Barely."
"They tested you."
"I noticed."
"You pushed back."
"I had to."
He studied me.
"You smiled," he said. "They didn't teach you that one."
"I learned it somewhere less polite."
For a moment, something eased between us. Something unspoken but real.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and frowned.
"What?" I asked.
"The media firm," he said. "They're leaking again."
My pulse jumped.
"About me?"
"About us."
He looked at me.
"They're framing it as a marriage on the brink."
I felt a slow smile form.
"Then we should disappoint them."
"How?"
"By giving them something else to talk about."
He raised an eyebrow.
"What did you have in mind?"
I stepped closer.
"Tomorrow," I said, "we show up together. Smiling. United. Untouchable."
"And if they dig deeper?"
"They will," I said. "And when they do, they'll find cracks where they didn't expect them."
Daniel's gaze lingered on me, thoughtful.
"You're dangerous," he said.
I met his eyes.
"So are you."
Outside, the house settled into it's uneasy quiet. Inside, the game shifted again. And for the first time since the scandal broke, I knew one thing for certain. They were afraid of the smile they didn't teach me how to wear.