Free Web NovelChapter 24: In The Closet
9 PM
The black car pulled up to the reception venue, its headlights cutting through the evening darkness like twin blades. The engine hummed for a moment before dying, and silence settled over the parking lot.
For a long moment, nothing moved. Then the back door opened, and Keres stepped out onto the damp pavement, her shoes clicking against the wet gravel.
The venue was nearly empty.
Staff members moved quietly between tables, clearing dishes, folding chairs, packing away decorations that had taken hours to set up that morning.
The string quartet had packed up their instruments and gone home. The champagne glasses had been collected, washed, and stored away. The flowers that had looked so fresh and vibrant just hours ago were already beginning to wilt, their petals drooping like they were mourning the end of something.
Keres stood at the edge of the parking lot, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her trousers, her expression unreadable under the dim glow of the streetlights. She didn’t react to the emptiness around her.
She didn’t show guilt or regret or anything resembling human emotion. Her face was a mask, cold and still, betraying nothing of what might be going on inside her head.
Slowly, she pulled out a cigarette from the pack in her pocket, placed it between her lips, and lit it with her silver lighter. The flame flickered briefly in the darkness, casting dancing shadows across her sharp features before she snapped it shut.
She took a long drag, holding the smoke in her lungs for a moment before exhaling slowly through her nose. The gray tendrils curled upward and disappeared into the night sky, carried away by the cool evening breeze.
Sandro approached from behind, his footsteps silent on the gravel. He had been with Keres long enough to know when to speak and when to stay quiet. Now, he judged, was the time to speak—but carefully. He stopped at a respectful distance and bowed his head slightly.
"Boss."
Keres didn’t turn to look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on the empty reception hall, on the chairs being stacked and the tables being cleared, on the remnants of a wedding that had happened without her.
"It ended?" she asked, her voice flat and emotionless, like she was asking about the weather.
"Yes, boss." Sandro paused, choosing his next words with the care of a man walking through a minefield. "Your parents are not pleased."
Keres let out a short, humorless laugh—a sharp exhale that was more sarcasm than amusement. "I’ll take care of that later." She took another drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke fill her lungs before releasing it. "Take me to the mansion."
Sandro hesitated. He could see the tension in Keres’s shoulders, the way her jaw was clenched, the way her fingers curled around the cigarette like she wanted to crush it. But he had his orders, and he knew which orders took priority.
"Your parents gave me specific instructions, boss." His voice was calm, professional. "They told me to take you to your new home. With Ms. Asteria."
Keres’s jaw tightened even further. Her fingers curled around her cigarette, crushing the filter slightly. She cursed under her breath—words sharp and bitter, meant for no one but herself.
She didn’t like this. She didn’t like how her parents were forcing her hand, how they kept pushing Asteria toward her, how they seemed to care more about that woman than their own daughter.
She might be the cruel mafia boss of the Eisenthurn empire now. She might have power and wealth and influence that most people could only dream of. She had men who would kill for her, enemies who trembled at the mention of her name, and a reputation that stretched across continents.
But she still couldn’t defy her parents. Not really. Not when it mattered. She couldn’t afford to provoke them any further—not when they loved Asteria so much, or when they had made it clear that they would choose that woman over her if it came down to it.
"FUCK!"
The yell tore out of her suddenly, raw and frustrated, echoing across the empty parking lot like a gunshot. Every staff member within earshot immediately froze in place, their hands mid-motion, their faces pale. Then, as if a spell had been broken, they scrambled to distance themselves from her, retreating to the far corners of the venue.
They had learned long ago that when Keres was pissed, no one should dare approach her except Sandro. Even the bravest among them knew better than to get within striking distance.
Keres paced back and forth, her boots crunching against the gravel, her cigarette burning forgotten between her fingers. The smoke curled up from the tip, thin and gray, ignored.
"That woman’s scheme is working!" Her voice was low and dangerous, seething with anger that had been building for weeks. "If she thinks she can wrap my parents around her fingertips, she’s wrong! I will make sure to let her know her goddamn place!"
Sandro stayed quiet. He had learned over the years that Keres didn’t need him to respond when she was like this. She needed him to listen, to stand there as a reminder that she was still in control even when she felt like she was losing it.
So he stood still, his hands clasped behind his back, his face neutral, and he waited.
Keres heaved with heavy breaths, her chest rising and falling, her anger burning hot in her veins. The image of Asteria’s face floated through her mind—that soft, timid smile, those wide eyes that looked at everyone with such trust, such vulnerability. It made Keres want to scream. It made her want to shake her until she dropped the act.
But then she thought of the way Asteria had signed the prenup without hesitation. The way she had said she didn’t want anything from Keres. The way she had looked at Faye and Alfonso with genuine gratitude, not greed.
Keres closed her eyes and counted to ten, forcing herself to calm down. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but she pushed it down. She had to.
Sandro waited a moment longer, then spoke. "Take it easy, boss. Tomorrow you’ll have to face your parents. They want to talk to you about what happened today. They told me to make sure you don’t forget."
Keres opened her eyes and nodded curtly. "Yeah, whatever." She tossed the ruined cigarette to the ground and crushed it under her heel, grinding it into the gravel until nothing was left but ash. "But tonight, I’ll see that woman."
She didn’t say why. She didn’t say what she would do. She just walked with long, angry strides toward her car, her posture rigid, her hands still clenched into fists at her sides.
The driver, who had been waiting patiently by the vehicle, immediately opened the back door for her. Keres slid inside without a word, and the door closed with a soft, final thud.
The engine turned on. The car pulled away, leaving the empty reception venue behind.
***
The New House – Asteria’s Room
Asteria had just finished taking a shower.
The bathroom was still filled with steam, the mirror completely fogged over, the air warm and heavy with the scent of lavender soap. Droplets of water clung to the tiles, and her towel hung damply over the rack.
She stood in front of the vanity in her bedroom, wrapped in a soft white robe, her damp hair falling over her shoulders in dark, wet strands.
She was happy. Genuinely happy.
Not because of the wedding—that had been a hollow, painful affair that she was already trying to forget.
But because of this.
This room. This house. This quiet moment where no one was yelling at her or threatening her or expecting her to be someone she wasn’t. Where she could breathe without feeling like she was stealing air.
She had chosen the second master bedroom for herself. The main master bedroom—larger, more luxurious, with its own walk-in closet and private balcony—she had left for Keres.
It seemed only right. Keres was the one paying for all of this, after all. Keres was the Eisenthurn heiress, the powerful businesswoman, the one with the money and the name.
Asteria was just... Asteria.
She didn’t need the bigger room. She didn’t deserve it.
She sat down on the plush chair in front of the vanity and picked up her hairbrush. The bristles glided through her damp hair, smooth and easy, without snagging on tangles like the cheap brush she had used for years in the Auclair mansion.
She watched herself in the mirror—a woman she barely recognized, sitting in a room she couldn’t believe was hers.
This was the first time she had ever felt safe and comfortable in a place.
Not the Auclair mansion, where she had slept on a hard floor with only a thin blanket and a cardboard box for a bed while her siblings slept in feather beds behind closed doors.
Not her ex-husbands’ houses, where she had learned to make herself small and silent and invisible, where she had flinched at every raised voice and every sudden movement.
Here. In this room. With its plush pillows and soft sheets and walls that didn’t echo with screams. freёweɓnovel.com
She smiled—a real smile, small and fragile, but real. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and for a moment, she almost looked like the girl she might have been if things had been different.
Then she looked down at the two letters in her hands.
Faye and Alfonso’s handwritten letters. They had given them to her earlier that evening as part of the Eisenthurn wedding tradition—letters from the parents to the newlywed couple, words of wisdom and love to carry into their new life together.
Keres had received her own copies, but Asteria doubted she had read them. Keres didn’t seem like the type to read letters.
But Asteria had read hers. Twice. Three times. She couldn’t stop reading them.
She unfolded the first letter—the one from Faye—and read the words again, her eyes tracing the elegant loops of Faye’s handwriting.
"Our dearest Asteria,
Welcome to our family. You have been a daughter to us from the moment we met you, and now that title is official. I remember that day in the resort like it was yesterday—the way you walked out of the forest holding Keres in your arms, the way you looked at me with such kindness even though you were afraid. I knew then that you were special. I knew then that you belonged with us.
You are not a burden. You are not a curse. You are not any of the terrible things they told you. You are a gift, Asteria. A blessing. And I am so grateful every single day that you came into our lives.
We are so proud of the woman you have become, and we are so honored to call you family. Remember: you deserve love and kindness. You deserve to take up space. Never let anyone make you feel otherwise.
We will always be here for you. Always.
With all my love,
Mama"
Asteria’s eyes filled with tears as she read the words again. She pressed the letter to her chest, holding it against her heart, and let the warmth of Faye’s words soak into her.
Then she unfolded the second letter—the one from Alfonso. His handwriting was bolder, sharper, but no less kind.
"Asteria,
I’m not good with words like my wife. She’s the poet. I’m the businessman. But I want you to know that you have my respect, and that is not something I give lightly.
You are strong. Stronger than you know. Stronger than anyone in that cursed family of yours ever gave you credit for. You survived things that would have broken most people, and you came out the other side with your heart still intact. That takes courage.
You are part of this family now. That means you are protected. It means you are loved. It means you never have to face anything alone again.
If Keres gives you trouble, you tell me. I’ll handle it.
Welcome home, Asteria.
Papa"
Asteria laughed softly through her tears, shaking her head at Alfonso’s gruff but heartfelt words. She kissed both letters—pressing her lips to the paper—and held them against her heart.
These were the first letters she had ever received that weren’t demands or insults or cold, formal instructions. These were letters written with love, and she would treasure them forever.
Suddenly, the front door slammed open downstairs.
The sound echoed through the house, sharp and violent, cutting through the peaceful silence like a knife. Her hands tightened around the letters. Her heart lurched in her chest.
She heard heavy footsteps—angry, purposeful, stomping through the foyer. Then a voice, sharp and demanding, cutting through the air:
"Where is she?!"
A maid’s trembling voice answered, too quiet for Asteria to make out the words. She heard the fear in the maid’s tone, the way it wobbled and cracked.
The footsteps thundered up the stairs, each one a hammer blow to Asteria’s racing heart. Her hands began to shake. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. She set the letters down on the vanity, carefully, reverently, and stood up on unsteady legs.
Then the banging started.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Someone was pounding on her door, hard, and relentless. The sound filled the room, bouncing off the walls, echoing in her skull.
Asteria’s vision blurred. Her breath caught in her throat. The room around her faded, replaced by memory—dark hallways, locked doors, her father’s fist pounding on wood, his voice screaming her name, the taste of blood in her mouth, the feel of the cold floor beneath her cheek.
"Asteria! Open the fucking door!"
But it wasn’t Keres’s voice she heard. It was her father’s. William’s. The same rage and impatience, the same violence lurking just beneath the surface. The voice that had haunted her in nightmares for as long as she could remember.
"Asteria, open the door. We need to talk."
This was the real voice, but Asteria didn’t hear it. She was already gone—already back in the Auclair mansion, she was already that terrified little girl waiting for the next blow, already bracing herself for pain.
She stumbled backward, away from the door and the sound. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for somewhere to hide.
The bed? No, too obvious. He would look under the bed. He always looked under the bed. The bathroom? No, the door didn’t lock properly. He would find her there too.
The closet.
She ran to the closet, yanked open the door, and crawled inside. She pulled the door closed behind her, pressing her back against the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest.
The darkness wrapped around her like a blanket—familiar and suffocating at the same time, a place she knew too well.
She started crying—sobs that she couldn’t control, no matter how hard she tried. Her hands pressed against her mouth to muffle the sound, but the tears kept coming, hot and unstoppable.
"The monsters can’t find you here. The monsters can’t find you here."
She heard the door to her bedroom swing open. Footsteps was heavy as it crossed the floor.
Keres checked the bathroom, then closed it when she didn’t find Asteria there. She checked the room balcony, but empty.
Then silence.
And then the closet door opened.
Light spilled into the darkness, blinding and harsh. Asteria threw her arm up as a shield, turning her face away, bracing for the impact that she knew was coming.
Her body trembled violently, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps that bordered on hyperventilation. frёeωebɳovel.com
"P-Please, n-no more, papa~~~ no more~~~" The words tumbled out of her, broken and desperate, a prayer she had whispered a thousand times before.
"It hurts~ it hurts~"
She didn’t see Keres’s face. She didn’t see the way Keres’s expression shifted—from frustration to confusion to something softer, something almost like pain. She didn’t see the way Keres’s hand hovered in the air, hesitating before reaching out.
"Asteria."
The voice was different, it was softer. Not her father’s voice at all.
"Asteria, it’s me. Keres."
Asteria’s sobs hitched. She lowered her arm slightly, peeking through her fingers.
"K-Keres?~~"
Keres reached out and touched her hand gently, as if she was afraid of breaking her. Her fingers were warm against Asteria’s cold skin.
Asteria looked up. Through her tears, her eyes was blurred of fear and memory.
She saw Keres’s face and she’s not angry, neither cruel. Just there, crouched down to her level, her dark eyes soft in a way Asteria had never seen before.
"K-Keres?" Her voice cracked, barely a whisper. "I-It’s r-r-really you?"
Keres nodded again, then again, as if she couldn’t nod enough to convince her. Then she pulled Asteria into a tight hug—firm but gentle, her arms wrapping around Asteria’s trembling body and hold her close.
"Shhh~~~" Keres’s voice was low and soothing, nothing like the cold command from earlier. "Your papa is not here. Only me."
Asteria clung to her, her fingers digging into the fabric of Keres’s shirt, holding on like Keres was the only solid thing in a world that kept shifting beneath her feet.
"R-Really? Y-You promise? H-He’s not here?"
"I promise." Keres’s arms tightened around her. "Even if he was here, he wouldn’t reach you. I’m here. I won’t let him hurt you. I promise."
Asteria’s body shook against Keres’s. She could feel the warmth of Keres’s skin through her clothes, the steady beat of her heart against her own racing one, the solid strength of Keres’ arms wrapped around her like a shield.
She pressed herself closer, seeking refuge, seeking safety, seeking something she hadn’t felt in years.
"Please~ no more pain~" she whispered, her voice muffled against Keres’s shoulder.
"It hurts so much, Keres~"
Keres didn’t answer and just held her tighter.
And as Asteria’s scent—jasmine mixing with gardenia, soft and clean—brushed against her nose, something shifted inside Keres. Something she didn’t understand and didn’t want to name.
Her heart clenched in her chest, like a sharp ache that had nothing to do with anger or frustration or any of the emotions she was used to.
"You’re safe," Keres said quietly, her voice rough. "You’re safe now."
Asteria nodded against her shoulder. Her breathing slowly began to even out, the sobs fading into shaky exhales. The trembling didn’t stop completely, but it lessened, like a storm finally beginning to pass.
Keres pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Asteria’s face. Her thumbs brushed across Asteria’s cheeks, wiping away the tears that still clung to her lashes.
Her touch was gentle—so gentle that Asteria almost didn’t believe it was real.
"Don’t cry~" Keres murmured. She couldn’t say what she really felt—seeing those tears broke something inside her, like she would do anything to make them stop.
The sight of Asteria so frightened made her chest ache in a way she had never experienced before. The words stuck in her throat, too big and too foreign to speak.
Asteria looked up at her, her eyes red and puffy, still wet with fresh tears. "Please don’t leave me~ Keres~"
The words hit Keres like a physical blow. The softness in Asteria’s voice, the vulnerability and desperate plea she had stirred something in Keres’ mind. Something she didn’t want to name that frightened her more than any enemy ever had.
Her scent, her voice, her tears.
It was intoxicating and overwhelming. Too much and not enough at the same time.
Keres nodded, unable to trust her own voice. She held Asteria’s hand, her fingers intertwining with Asteria’s trembling ones, and squeezed gently.
"Okay," she said finally, her voice rough around the edges. "I won’t leave. I’ll make sure you feel safe."
Asteria let out a shaky breath and leaned her head against Keres’s shoulder. The closet was small and dark, but for the first time that night, she didn’t feel afraid.
And Keres sat there, holding her, wondering when exactly everything had changed like this so suddenly.
