The house is beautiful. A masterpiece of luxury, with a view towering high above the city, sitting on a vast private land. A symbol of wealth, success, and perfection.
The kind of place that people dream of, the kind that graces magazine covers as the home of Nicholas Gates, CEO of a multinational company, a billionaire who dominated the luxury empire, and a visionary.
But it is not Victoria's dream.
It is her prison.
The figure in white moves through the halls. Long, dark black hair swaying gently as she moves. The marble floors do not echo under her steps, barefeet she was. The grand chandeliers gleam, even at this low light and the at the hour of this night. Her hand touch the walls, untouched and flawless.
The house is beautiful and grand and luxurious.
But it feels cold, and hollow.
Such a big house.
But only one lives here. The husband was always gone.
Nicholas, the man who designed this house down to its very details, was barely home.
This home is cold and hollow.
Brown eyes land on a picture frame. Mrs. Victoria Chase stops by the drawer.
There was a large portrait of her husband, and her, hanging on the wall. The man and woman in it were handsome and beautiful, polished and refined, clad in very fine clothing thar would have costed a building or two. But she focuses on the small picture frame on top of the drawer.
A young 21 and 20 year old couple, newly weds. Laughing, eyes crinkled and big grins. The picture was casual, normal, and definitely not to the standards of the Cage Family.
But Victoria was ao happy in here.
Her eyes stared, sad.
She and Nicholas had looked so happy in this picture.
But 4 years later, he changed. They both changed.
Nicholas rarely comes home. He exists in headlines, in business meetings, in fine suits and polished interviews where he speaks of expansion, success and power. They call him "Midas" because whatever he touches turns to a huge successful investment. Profit.
People adore him. Admire him. Desire to become him.
Dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a dashing smile. A gentleman true and true. But passionate.
People love him.
He is untouchable.
And Victoria? Victoria is just a shadow behind that man.
Nicholas was so perfect. Compared to him, she was a nobody.
Victoria fingers curled around the frame. Face grimaced.
She was once his lvoe, his choice, the woman he defied expectations for.
He loves her and she loves him.
That was true.
On their wedding day, he promised her forever.
But somewhere along the way, he got busy and busy, became distant and cold, and then changed to the man he is now.
In his eyes, she faded into the background- until even the world seemed to forget she existed.
The media barely mentions her anymore. She was a curiosity once, an unexpected wife to a man who could have had anyone. They speculated about her quiet nature, her unremarkable past. But over time they lost interest.
She is Victoria Gates, and she is Nicholas Gates wife. That is all she is now.
She wonders if he even remembers what they used to be.
The nights are the worst.
She sits alone at dinner, the long table stretching endlessly before her, and untouched plates arranged by staff that come and go without comment.
Nicholas' seat remains empty. He had another meetjng, another event, another obligation.
Or maybe, he's gone to another woman.
She doesn't ask. She doesn't want to know. But she sure knows who it is.
Diana Greenstone.
She has blonde hair and blue eyes. She was bubbly and cheerful. She came frim a respectable family. She was a famous singer. She waa Nicholas's first love.
Everything her inlaws wanted and more.
But it was not Diana Nicholas has married. It was Victoria.
And Victoria was the one who they were stuck with.
His mother always regarded her with quiet disdain and disappointment, the kind that was masked behind polite smiles. His father never acknowledged her all the time. His siblings? His siblings were the worst. Casial cruelty disguised as offhanded remarks, subtle insults, discussions in hushed tones behind closed doors.
"Nicholas coupd totally do better."
"I know right? Ugh, why do we have to be stuck with her?"
It should have amtteted that he fought for her. That he dismissed their opinions, that he told them he didn't care.
Maybe it did.
But things change.
People change.
She wonders when Nicholas had stopped defending her. Wonders when he stopped seeing her at all
The photo frame sits on the table. She barely ate her food, she just kept staring at the phoyo.
Their wedding day. Happiness, love, devotion.
"You loved me once," she whispers into the silence "You could love me again... right?"
She used to believe that.
After all, he did love her once.
xXoXx
Once upon a time.
There was a student at the back of history class, who always acted like an outsider looking into the story.
Like a ghost, Vivian was quiet and withdrawn in her first year of college.
She barely spoke in class, avoid gatherings, let days pass without meaning. Her sadness wasn't dramatic, just constant.
She was sad and alone, and she kept it that way.
But then Nicholqs entered into her life.
She still remembers the first time he spoke to her– not in passing, not in polite obligation, but truly spoke to her.
"You don't really seem to care about anything."
It wasn't cruel. Just an observation. Just him, standing there, with brown eyes looking at her like they wanted to look into her soul. Curious, waiting for her response.
She had ignored him, and shut him out like she did everyone else at that time.
But he was persistent, in that gentleman way of his. He sat next to her. Volunteered to be her partner. Joined her at her lunch. Giving her snacks.
So one day, when they were both alone, she answered.
"I care about some things."
Nicholas Cage wasn't the kind of man people expected to reach out to girls like her. He was lively, charming, and popular. He had all the checks— looks, smarts, personality and the money.
He was someone who made friends easily, who lit up rooms just by entering them. He had the world at his fingertips, girls vying for his attention, professors impressed with his hard working student etiquette and ambition.
Yet he chose her.
He earned her trust carefully, knocked at her doors and asked her to vring her walls down. He never pushef, never demanded, never asked for more than what she was willing to give but he always made sure he was at her side.
He walked her home, brought her coffee, showed up in her life she never expected anyone to do.
Victoria still isn't sure when she fell for him.
She just knows that one day, she looked at Nicholqs, and realized she wants to stay at his side.
And when he finally asked her out, there was no hesitation.
Nicholas was the perfect boyfriend. He was so happy and loving, utterly devoted. So much so she sometimea felt too good to be true. His world revolved aeound her, his choices tailored to her happiness. When his family disapproved– when they judged her lacking, unworthy and just not good enough, Nicholas didn't care.
"I love you Victoria. That's all that matters."
And for a long while, it was.
When he asked her to marry him, she never had doubts saying yes.
He was so happy when she said yes.
"Forever and ever, my wife! Mrs. Gates! I promised you forever, Vic. I promise."
He loves her and she loves him.
They were so happily in love.
He loved her so much. He was so good to her. So caring. So warm.
But forever doesn't always last.
Now, years later, Victoria lies awake, looking like a ghost in white at the dining room. Still on her sit. Her food cold and barely touched. Eyed burning as hand trembled holding the photo full of colors. Her heart ached. Holding onto memories.
Holding onto hope.
Holding onto him.
Nicholas did love her once.
He says he loves her still.
But all Victoria knows is that she is sad.
She is alone.
And she is so tired.
Victoria trembles, her eyes burns, raw and aching. A tear drops and slides down her cheek.
Outside, the moonlight pours in , casting down silver light on polished floors, illuminating the empty, cold room just enough to keep the darkness from consuming her completely.
And yet, shadows still creep in.
The space behind her shifts– not a sound, not a movement. But a feeling.
She stiffens.
The temperature drops, threading coolness along her skin.
And then— arms curl around her shoulders from behind, firm and unshakeable. The embrace snug, solid enough to hold her together.
"You cry too much," Theodore murmurs, his chin resting against her shoulder, golden hair brushing softly against her neck.
She exhales sharply, fingers trembking over the photo.
She doesn't turn.
She doesn't speak.
He doesn't rush her.
He never does.
Instead, he waits.
He presses against her. Cold to touch her skin but certain.
"Vivi," he says, softer this time. He withdraws.
Victoria turns her head and looks. Her eyes meet green eyes, and a smile on that pretty face.
He pulls her up from the chair with gentle tug. She stands, leaving the photo frame on the table.
His eyes are steady and knowing.
Cool, and transparent ghostly fingers caresses her face. And his thumb wipes her a tear.
Victoria leans into the touch.
"Better?" He asks.
She swallows. Her rhroat is tight. She nods.
His fingers move to tuck a hair behind her ear. And it lingers for a moment too long.
"Good." He sighs.
And then his eyes glance at the plates.
"It really sucks that I can't eat," he grumbles as he eyeing the untouched plates before her.
Victoria breathes out a small laugh– small and faint.
"I want to eat with you Vivi."
The words settle between them, quiet, longing.
"I'm sorry." He says, as if it was his fault he was dead. That he's been gone for years. That someone was driving recklessly and he pulled Vicroria from behind him forward, and let himself get hit.
She takes his hands into hers, squeezing.
"Don't be, Teddy. You're here. That's enough."
He returns the grip. Tightening just slightly, before he interlocks his fingers with hers.
"Of course. Where else would I be?"
His voice is steady and unwavering.
"I promised you, didn't I? That I would always be at your side."
A promise he still tries to keep even when he was in the grave.
She laughs "We were seven, I just wanted to make sure you were at my side and didn't get your lunch money bullied from you again."
Theodore Valentine. Her best friend. They were so close, they used to get mistaken by others thay they were dating.
That was until he died.
"A promise is a promise." He says "and you know I take them seriously."
For the first time tonight, Victoria breathes without aching.
She smiles softly "Of course I know."