In a state of bewilderment, I stepped into the house, only to find the living room transformed beyond recognition, save for the familiar presence of the chimney. The fireplace had undergone an extravagant makeover, adorned with ornate and intricately carved stones, imparting an air of opulence to the room. On either side of the entrance door, elegant tampered glass panels were now adorned with floor-to-ceiling damask drapes, exuding an aura of refined luxury.
My gaze ascended to the center of the ceiling, where an exquisite chandelier now hung, casting a resplendent glow upon the space. Its shimmering crystals danced in the light, lending an ethereal touch to the room. On the opposite side of the expansive living area, a majestic staircase took center stage, its grandeur commanding attention and showcasing the artistry of the architecture.
The interior exuded an air of richness and sophistication. The walls, now embellished with textured wallpaper featuring intricate patterns, imparted depth, and visual interest. Fine art pieces adorned the walls, their frames gilded with gold and exuding timeless elegance.
Plush, sumptuous furniture in deep, velvety hues beckoned, inviting guests to sink into their comforting embrace. Ornate coffee tables adorned with delicate porcelain figurines and artfully arranged floral centerpieces added an element of refinement to the room. Richly woven area rugs, embellished with intricate patterns and lush fibers, graced the polished marble floor, creating an atmosphere of tactile indulgence.
Soft, warm lighting emanated from intricately designed lamps, casting a gentle, inviting glow upon the space. The room felt like a haven of comfort, where one could unwind and luxuriate in the lap of extravagance.
Overwhelmed, I whispered in awe, "Oh, my God." I briefly closed my eyes, reopening them to find Archer's men swiftly passing me with my bags, hurrying up the stairs. Chad, still in the midst of speaking, offered, "I took the liberty of stocking the house with food and supplies. If you need anything else, please... I'm not sure if you still have my number..."
I turned to face Chad, locking eyes with him. "How? Why? How?" I stammered, my gestures wild as I tried to comprehend the magnificence of the house. Chad's gaze dropped, and he replied, "My job was to ensure your safe return, Miss."
Frustration bubbled up within me. "Okay, okay," I repeated, attempting to calm myself. Gathering my thoughts, I pleaded, "Then tell me, what happened to my brother?"
Chad hesitated, his eyes still fixed on me. "Don't you think it's better if you ask Mr. Donovan?" he cautiously suggested.
"Where is he? He isn't here." I replied, frustration and emotion intertwining. "Chad, please, I'm asking you, what happened to Mark?"
He spoke cautiously, watching me as if I might vanish into thin air. "He was in an accident. I'm afraid he didn't survive," he delivered the devastating news.
His words pierced through my heart like a sharp blade. Gasping, I staggered backward, I didn’t fail to notice that Chad refrained from physically steadying me. I already knew deep down that Mark was gone, but hearing it spoken aloud made my heart constrict painfully. "What kind of accident?" I whispered, anguish consuming me.
"It was a car... it, um, exploded," he supplied, his voice tinged with sorrow.
"Oh my God," I gasped, instinctively covering my mouth with trembling hands. Tears welled up in my eyes as I sank onto the nearest chair. My shoulders shook as I silently wept, the weight of my sorrow bearing down upon me. Through choked sobs, I managed to ask, "His body... what did you do with his body?"
"He was laid to rest alongside the graves in the woods behind the house," he replied. My determination surged as I sprang up and ran.
"Miss Rutherford?!" Chad called out, surprise evident in his voice, and then cursed as he chased after me. I dashed out of the house through the newly installed back door, taking a moment to master its unlocking mechanism before rushing out into the wintry night. The biting cold assaulted my face, stinging my skin, while the freezing tears on my cheeks added to the unbearable chill. Nevertheless, I refused to let anything stop me, sprinting along the path that Mark had vanished into on numerous occasions. It was a path I had always avoided, even though I pretended not to know where it led. Memories flooded my mind—our father's death, Mark shielding me from witnessing our father's body being carried along this very path, ensuring I remained unaware of its grim secret. Mark had always shielded me from harm, and now his own path had reached its end on this same trail. The pain in my heart felt unbearable as it shattered into countless shards.
Running through the woods, I finally stumbled upon a cleared path. What I discovered was far from my expectations. The graveyard appeared newly constructed, and instead of the anticipated two graves, there were three. One bore the name Jeremy Rutherford, elegantly engraved on a tombstone. The presence of an unmarked grave, presumably for Mark, sent a wave of pain through me. However, it was the third grave that both shocked and paralyzed me with disbelief. The tombstone read "Dorothy Rutherford." Dorothy Rutherford was our mother. Confusion mingled with anguish, tearing me apart from within. Mark had never mentioned what had become of her, and I had never found the courage to ask. I had assumed she had abandoned us, either running off with another man or leaving due to the uninhabitable state of the house. Yet, all this time, she had been here.
Falling to my knees on the snow-covered ground, I felt utterly bewildered and consumed by unfathomable pain. My entire family was gone. I was truly alone. A cry of anguish escaped my lips, its echoes vibrating with tears, allowing the agony to consume me completely.
Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around me, their hold unyielding. I fought against the embrace, desperate to be left alone, but the grip remained steadfast. His familiar scent enveloped me then, intensifying the ache in my heart. The feel of his arms, the warmth of his breath against the back of my neck left no doubt—it wasn't Chad. Turning to face the person holding me, I met intense hazel eyes—the very same eyes I had run miles to avoid. It was Archer. He was here.