The quiet of the mansion settled again after her stepmother and stepsister fled in panic, but the warmth from Andrew's unexpected protection lingered in Hathaway's chest, refusing to fade. The echo of his cold warning still bounced around the marble walls, a stark reminder that she was no longer alone in this world. She stood rooted to the spot in the middle of the living room, her fingers still slightly trembling as she processed the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded. It was Andrew's voice, soft and concerned, that finally pulled her back from her thoughts.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his tone a stark contrast to the one he had used on her family. He stepped closer, his tall figure casting a gentle shadow over her. His dark eyes scanned her face meticulously, as if checking for any trace of distress or physical harm, not missing the slight paleness of her cheeks.
Hathaway shook her head vigorously, her throat feeling a little tight with unshed emotions. "No… I'm fine. Physically, at least. Thank you for coming back so soon. I didn't expect you to be here before dinner. I thought you'd be swamped with meetings all afternoon."
Andrew's gaze softened, the corners of his lips turning up in a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "I had an important meeting canceled at the last minute. My assistant tried to reschedule, but I told him to clear my afternoon. I thought I'd come home early to check on you, to see how you were feeling after this morning." He paused, his eyes locking onto hers, and added in a firm voice, "I'm very glad I did. I can't imagine what would have happened if I'd been late."
The sincerity in his words, combined with the genuine concern in his eyes, made Hathaway's heart skip a beat. She had always thought their marriage was nothing more than a cold, calculated transaction—a piece of paper signed to save her family. But now, with the way he had stepped in front of her, shielding her from her stepmother's venom, it felt like something far more substantial was taking root between them.
"Let's sit down," Andrew said, gently placing a hand on the small of her back and guiding her to the plush leather sofa. The touch was brief and respectful, but it sent a shiver down her spine. The servants, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, quickly appeared with a tray of tea and delicate pastries. They moved silently, placing the tray on the coffee table before retreating to the far corner of the room, giving the couple the privacy they needed. For a long moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the only sound being the clink of porcelain as Hathaway lifted her teacup to her lips. The tension that had filled the room earlier was gone, replaced by a quiet warmth that she had never experienced in this house before.
Hathaway sipped her chamomile tea, letting the warm liquid soothe her nerves. Her eyes were fixed on the delicate steam curling from the cup, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. She wanted to say something, to properly express her gratitude for what he had done, but the words felt stuck in her throat. He had done so much for her already—saving her family, marrying her, and now protecting her from the people who should have loved her. How could she ever repay him?
Andrew, ever the observant one, noticed her hesitation immediately. He set his own cup down and turned to face her fully. "You don't have to hold back with me, Hathaway," he said gently, his voice low and reassuring. "If they ever bother you again, if they so much as step foot near this house or contact you, you tell me immediately. No one gets to treat you like that, not even your own blood. You're under my protection now, and I take that very seriously."
Hathaway looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The kindness in his voice was too much to bear. "Why are you doing this?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're only married on paper. It's just a contract, a business deal. You don't owe me anything. You could have just let them yell and left me to deal with it."
Andrew leaned back against the sofa, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest in a thoughtful rhythm. His expression was pensive, as if he was searching for the right words. "Maybe not," he said after a long pause, his eyes never leaving hers. "Maybe I don't owe you anything legally. But you're my wife now, in the eyes of the world and in mine. And I don't like seeing people I care about being hurt. That's just who I am."
The words "I care about" hung heavy in the air between them. Hathaway felt her face heat up instantly, a bright blush spreading across her cheeks. She quickly looked away, pretending to be deeply interested in the intricate pattern on the teacup in her hands, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Did he really mean that? Or was it just a figure of speech?
Before she could gather the courage to respond, Andrew's phone rang sharply, cutting through the moment. The ringtone was his work phone, sharp and authoritative. He sighed, fishing it out of his pocket. He answered it with a curt, "Andrew speaking," his voice instantly snapping back to the cold, professional tone she was used to hearing when he talked about business. Hathaway watched him as he listened, his jaw tightening slightly and his brow furrowing. After a short, decisive conversation, he hung up and turned back to her, a small apologetic smile on his face.
"I have to take an important call from the office," he explained. "One of my factories has a minor issue that needs my approval. It won't take long, ten minutes at most. Wait for me here, okay? Don't go anywhere."
Hathaway nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. She had been enjoying their time together. "Of course, go ahead. Work is important." She watched him walk into his study, the tall, imposing figure she had first met just a few days ago. The door closed softly behind him, and she was left alone with her thoughts. She replayed his words over and over in her mind—"I don't like seeing people I care about being hurt." Could it be that the cold, unapproachable tycoon was starting to care for her, even just a little bit?
She shook her head vigorously, trying to push the dangerous thought away. It was just a contract, she reminded herself sternly. He was only being nice because it was convenient for him, because a happy wife meant a better public image. But deep down, a small, stubborn part of her refused to believe that. There was something in his eyes when he looked at her that couldn't be faked.
After exactly twelve minutes, Andrew came back. The tension was gone from his shoulders, and he looked a little more relaxed. He sat down next to her on the sofa, this time a little closer than before. Their shoulders were almost touching.
"Everything's handled," he said with a sigh of relief. "Just a supply chain mix-up. Now, let's forget about work and about your family. It's a beautiful afternoon, and I don't want to waste it thinking about unpleasant things. What would you like to do? We can go for a walk in the garden, or I can have the chef prepare anything you want for an early dinner. The choice is yours."
Hathaway was genuinely surprised by his offer. She had expected him to disappear back into his study for the rest of the day, not to spend his free time with her. "I… I don't know," she admitted, thinking for a moment. "I've been cooped up in the bedroom and the living room since I arrived. I've never really explored the rest of the mansion. It's so big. Maybe I can look around? If it's not too much trouble."
Andrew smiled, a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes and made his cold features soften completely. He looked younger, more human. "Then let me be your guide," he said, standing up and offering her his hand. His palm was open, waiting for hers.
Hathaway hesitated for only a second, her heart fluttering. Then, she placed her hand in his. His hand was warm and strong, his fingers wrapping gently around hers. As he led her through the mansion, she felt a sense of security and belonging she had never known before.
He showed her the grand library first, a two-story room filled with thousands of books from all over the world, lined up on dark mahogany shelves. He pulled out a few of his favorite classics and explained why he loved them. Next, he pointed out the priceless art on the walls, explaining the history and the stories behind each painting and sculpture. He was surprisingly knowledgeable and passionate. Finally, he led her up a winding staircase to the rooftop garden.
The view was absolutely breathtaking. Lush green plants, colorful flowers, and comfortable seating areas surrounded them, with a clear, unobstructed view of the entire city skyline. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, painting the clouds in brilliant hues of orange and pink.
As they stood there side by side, leaning against the railing and watching the sunset, Andrew turned to her. "This is my favorite place in the entire house," he said quietly, as if sharing a secret. "I come here when I need to clear my head, when the weight of the company feels too heavy. It's quiet here, away from everything. It makes me feel like anything is possible."
Hathaway looked out at the view, then back at him. For the first time, she saw beyond the cold, powerful tycoon that everyone feared. She saw a man who had worked incredibly hard to get where he was, a man who carried a lot of responsibility, and a man who had his own quiet hopes and dreams.
"It's beautiful," she said softly, her voice filled with wonder. "Truly magical."
Andrew nodded, his gaze fixed on her face instead of the view. "Not as beautiful as you," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop himself.
The words hung in the air, and both of them froze. Time seemed to stand still. Hathaway's face turned bright red, the blush spreading down her neck. She quickly looked away, her heart pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it. Andrew cleared his throat loudly, a faint pink tinge appearing on his own ears as he tried to recover from his unexpected confession.
"I… I meant the view at this time of day," he said, his voice a little awkward and gruff, clearly embarrassed. He looked anywhere but at her.
Hathaway couldn't help it. She smiled, a small, shy smile that lit up her entire face. "Of course you did," she said, teasing him gently for the first time.
Andrew looked at her, saw her smile, and laughed. It was a real, hearty laugh that echoed across the rooftop, warm and genuine. For the first time since she had met him, he didn't look like a man who was in complete control of everything. He looked like a man who was finally letting his guard down, a man who was starting to let someone in.
As the sun dipped completely below the horizon, casting the sky in deep shades of purple and blue, Hathaway leaned against the railing and felt a profound sense of peace. She realized that she was no longer afraid of this marriage, no longer afraid of what the future might hold. In fact, for the first time in a very long time, she was starting to look forward to it.
And somewhere deep inside her heart, she knew that this contract was no longer just a transaction. It was the beginning of something real, something that neither of them had expected.