Behind Closed Doors of Fate

Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: How Could a Proper Man Dress Like This?**
As soon as he landed, Sir Edward Blackwood received a message from his friend Richard Ainsley, asking him to meet at their usual spot on Merrimac Lane for dinner that evening.
He powered off his phone and made his way to the nearest smoking area. After a grueling ten-hour flight, having stayed up late working on a proposal, he felt utterly drained. Just as he reached for a cigarette, his phone buzzed again.
It was Uncle Lionel. “Young Master, are you on your way out?” he asked, his voice polite and steady as ever.
Edward glanced at the sign ahead, lit the cigarette, and replied, “On my way.”
After hanging up, he slouched in the chair and closed his eyes, planning to refresh himself with a spritz of cologne before heading out. Uncle Lionel, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit, collected his luggage and guided him to the car parked across the street.
Settling into the back seat, Edward yawned even before the door closed. Uncle Lionel thoughtfully handed him a plush pillow and drew the curtains between the front and back seats, allowing him to rest in peace.
With headphones on, Edward selected a soothing song, adjusting his posture to drift off. Just as sleep descended, a sudden halt jolted him awake.
Rubbing his shoulder where the seatbelt had dug in, he noticed the curtains had opened. Uncle Lionel looked back, worry etched on his face. “Young Master, are you alright?”
Frowning, Edward looked outside. “I’m fine. What happened?”
The road ahead was blocked. He removed his headphones, tuning into the cacophony of honking horns. Uncle Lionel informed him of an accident further down the lane, and they'd need to wait.
Leaning back, Edward tried to close his eyes again. After about ten minutes, the car began to inch forward. He looked out and caught sight of a crowd gathered around someone on the ground.
Curiosity piqued, he shifted closer to the window. A young woman lay still, foam at her mouth, while two young men knelt beside her—one administering chest compressions, the other attempting to keep track of time.
The one checking the clock wore a white shirt and black pants, his slightly longer bangs hanging over his eyes. Edward noticed a bandage on the man's wrist.
He hadn’t intended to get involved, but the man in the white shirt suddenly leaned down to give the woman rescue breaths. That caught Edward's full attention, and he could see the handsome profile of the would-be savior—thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, his determination evident even through the distress.
Before Edward could ponder more, the wail of an approaching ambulance echoed down the street. The blockage had delayed their arrival, but soon several medical personnel rushed over with kits and stretchers. Among them, two doctors in white coats began to assess the situation, the young men quickly stepping aside.
Edward’s eyes followed the man in the white shirt as he approached a parked car, opening the door to retrieve a bottle of water, seemingly to wash out his mouth. But with an injured wrist, the gesture looked awkward.
Contemplating stepping out to help, Edward hesitated. Just as he made up his mind, Uncle Lionel pressed on the gas pedal, and they cleared the road.
This episode floated from his mind as he dozed off intermittently until they finally pulled up to his family home.
Groggy, he asked, “Why are we back? Aren’t we going to the hospital?”
“Madam didn’t like the hospital atmosphere. She returned home to recuperate a couple of days ago.” Uncle Lionel explained, handing over his luggage to a servant and providing Edward with a pair of slippers. “You should head upstairs; Madam is waiting in her room.”
Edward placed his bag down and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Seeing the master bedroom door ajar, he stepped inside. His mother appeared well put together, reclining on the sofa, eyes glued to the television.
The moment she spotted him, Lady Cecilia Ravenswood jumped up in delight. “Oh my! My son, you’ve finally come back! I’ve missed you so much!”
Before he could respond, she opened her arms wide and embraced him tightly, seeming not at all like someone who had just sustained an injury.
As she pulled back from the embrace, Edward casually grabbed her supposedly injured hand. “Mother, weren’t you supposed to have a fracture? You seem perfectly fine.”
When he received the call that brought him rushing home, his brother William had insisted their mother had been in a car accident and had suffered a broken arm, prompting Edward to reject a work assignment and catch the next flight.
“How is it that you're not hurt at all?” he questioned, both confused and relieved.

Chapter 2

"You little rascal." Lady Cecilia Ravenswood slapped Sir Edward Blackwood on the shoulder, exasperated. "How can you even ask that? If nothing had gone wrong, would you have even bothered to come back?"
Seeing her expression, Sir Edward Blackwood knew exactly what she was thinking. He helplessly sank into the sofa. "If you wanted me to come back, you could have just said so. Do you know I turned down a promotion just to see you?"
Lady Cecilia settled next to him, her voice rising even higher. "You think your father and brother would take your demotion lightly? Why must you go through all that struggle out there? You barely come home all year. Tell me, Edward, since you married Lady Isabella Hawthorne, have you even called her? Seen her?"
Within three sentences, Lady Cecilia had brought up Lady Isabella Hawthorne, which wasn't surprising to Sir Edward Blackwood at all.
Years ago, his family had forced him into an arranged marriage with the Hawthorne family. He had vehemently opposed it, but his father used tough measures to get his way. Sir Edward had always been a bit of a free spirit, and while his family was in the medical supply business, he had chosen to study philosophy and architecture in Land of Italia. It was a bad time too; his family's business was on the brink of financial collapse, and creditors were knocking at their door. If it weren't for the Hawthorne family offering to help, bankruptcy might have been the only option.
At that time, he was still a student in Italia, with his expensive tuition and living expenses covered by his family. He had grown accustomed to a life of leisure, preferring to avoid meaningless resistance for the sake of pride. Moreover, he knew that if his father didn't feel utterly desperate, a man as domineering as him would never divulge such problems.
In the end, Sir Edward had no choice but to agree, though he was deeply unhappy about it. He was particularly incensed when he learned that the wedding partner had been switched at the last moment for the least favored son of the Hawthorne family. After that, he steadfastly refused to return home.
As her son dodged the conversation, Lady Cecilia's initial joy turned into concern. She grasped Sir Edward's hand, pleading, "Edward, please listen to your mother. I understand you don’t like this marriage that your father arranged—believe me, I didn't like it either, especially when the Hawthorne family switched brides at the last minute. People managed to bury the incident, but many still talked, laughing behind our backs."
"But what can we do now? Lady Isabella Hawthorne is already part of the family. I've spent a year with her, and she really is a fine girl. She's polite, without young people's bad habits, and respects both your father and me. Every weekend, she comes to cook at our house. Your father even thinks better of her now. So why can't you give her a chance?"
Lady Cecilia's heartfelt appeal only grew increasingly frustrating to Sir Edward. He jerked his hand away. "Mom, this isn't the feudal era! Do you really believe that two totally unfamiliar people can be happy in a marriage? You want me to accept her, but like you said, I haven't even seen her!"
"You'll get your chance tonight." Lady Cecilia hurried to interject. "Lady Isabella has agreed to come over for dinner later."
But Sir Edward had no interest in seeing Lady Isabella Hawthorne. He stood up, declaring, "I have dinner plans with friends tonight. I’ll take a quick shower and head out."
"Hey, you!" Lady Cecilia rose to follow him. "I've laid it all out for you; can’t you take a single word onboard? Are you really going to wait for your father to get back and scold you before you decide to come home?"
Without looking back, Sir Edward bolted up the stairs and opened the door to the room he hadn't stepped into for over a year.
But once inside, he froze.
The room still reflected his tastes and belongings, yet there were subtle changes everywhere.
For instance, the sheets had switched from the usual blue to a stark black-and-white striped pattern. More strikingly, at the foot of the bathroom was a pair of identical slippers, and on the counter sat toiletries that clearly weren't his. When he opened all the closets, the one near the door revealed a full row of white dress shirts and black slacks. Even the underwear in the drawer matched.
He never wore such dull colors. Holding up one shirt, he noticed it was a size too small for him and realized whose it was.
Seeing traces of an outsider in a space he’d lived in since childhood ignited a firestorm of anger within Sir Edward Blackwood, and he rushed downstairs to call for Uncle Lionel.
Confronting his question, Uncle Lionel could only admit, "That's the lady's instruction. Lady Isabella only stays here on weekends."
Sir Edward exploded, "Don’t we have empty guest rooms? Why can’t she stay in one of those?"
Uncle Lionel, knowing Sir Edward’s spoiled demeanor, chuckled nervously. "Well, sir, that’s how the lady has arranged it. Besides, given that you are now married to Lady Isabella, her being in your room is just reasonable."
"Reasonable? What’s reasonable about her clothes cluttering my closet? Am I supposed to just toss my stuff anywhere?"
Sir Edward wasn't being unreasonable; he was simply outraged that such a personal space had been encroached upon by his wife. Had he known it would be like this, he might as well have booked a hotel.
Uncle Lionel, aware that Sir Edward was a pampered brat, opted not to engage directly. Instead, he foisted the matter back onto Lady Cecilia: "How about this, sir? I'll check with the lady to see if Lady Isabella's things can be moved to a guest room."
Recalling Lady Cecilia’s previous insistence that he think positively, Sir Edward’s frustration mounted. Just when he thought he’d find some peace and quiet, Uncle Lionel was about to drag his mother into this.
Resolved to handle it himself, he darkly told Uncle Lionel to leave.
Once the door clicked shut, he stared at the open closets, at the array of white dress shirts and black pants lining the racks like they were photocopies. Sir Edward decided he would stay in a hotel that night.
Grabbing a clean set of clothes from his suitcase, he washed up, adjusting himself in the mirror before grabbing the car keys and heading out.
In the Blackwood residence, everyone had their own car. His previous SUV had been sold during his absence, given how little he had driven it. This time, his brother gifted him a new SUV. While it was functional, it didn't carry the same thrill as his previous vehicle.
But he couldn’t dwell on the details today. He pressed down the accelerator as he headed towards the restaurant Sir Richard Ainsley had mentioned.
He left the house around four-thirty, and traffic was already heavy. By the time he reached the bistro on Merrimac Lane, it was five-thirty. His phone buzzed multiple times with his mother and brother trying to reach him. Sir Edward didn’t answer, knowing full well they were calling to push him to come home for dinner.

Chapter 3

After parking the car, Sir Edward Blackwood called Sir Richard Ainsley to ask about the number of the private dining room he had reserved. Sir Richard was still on the road; after providing the room number, he inquired about Edward's mother. Sir Edward preferred to keep the details private, responding simply, "We'll talk when you get here." By the time Sir Richard arrived, Edward had already started on a bottle of red wine, with more than half gone.
Sir Richard Ainsley had been Edward’s close friend since childhood. Their families were well-matched, ensuring a strong bond that started in elementary school, though their paths diverged in college, resulting in less frequent meetings.
Sir Richard was aware of Sir Edward’s marriage and the difficulties he had faced. However, having spent the last two years in Brazil, he hadn’t met Lady Isabella Hawthorne.
On the phone, when Edward mentioned that his mother had staged a car accident to trick him into coming home, Sir Richard chuckled and raised his glass. "You can't blame Lady Cecilia Ravenswood—it's been a year since your wedding, and you still won’t come home. In my family, this would’ve caused a full-blown crisis. You’re lucky your big brother is handling things at home and at the company; your parents let you get away with too much."
Sir Edward downed another glass of wine and slammed it back onto the table. "Lucky? What about Sir Geoffrey Winter?" He paused momentarily. "Isn’t he supposed to be joining us?"
Sir Richard replied, "His girlfriend is throwing a fit again; he’s busy patching things up."
Edward grimaced, "That influencer is always causing drama. It’s sad that he’s the only one who finds her appealing."
Sir Richard poured another glass for Edward, grinning. "That won't last long. Sir Geoffrey has been looking for a way to break up with her."
Curious, Edward picked at a dish of salted fish skin. "What made him suddenly change his mind? Weren't they inseparable not too long ago?"
Sir Richard pulled out his phone, accessed their WeChat messages, and found a photograph to share with Edward. "Check this out. This is Sir Geoffrey Winter's new crush. Doesn’t she completely outshine that influencer?"
Edward took the phone and glanced at the image, which was a profile shot of a woman dressed in a dark blue embroidered qipao. The outfit was chic, showcasing her long legs clad in white stockings, but lacked any notable curves that would reveal her true identity.
Next, Edward examined the woman’s face. The makeup made it difficult to determine her gender but certainly hinted at an elegant beauty. Her hair was styled in a trendy bob, adorned with an old-fashioned headband matching her attire. She was slightly hunched over, with an arrangement of delicate tea canisters nearby, and the background looked like a traditional tea house.
"Is she selling tea? Why is she dressed like that? Is she for real?" Edward asked, handing the phone back to Sir Richard.
"Not sure," Sir Richard responded. "She’s a recent addition to Geoffrey's social circle. They were introduced through mutual friends, but Geoffrey hasn’t actually met her in person yet."
"What does 'not met' mean?" Edward asked, intrigued.
"She works part-time, and her schedule is unpredictable."
Edward rolled his eyes, not impressed. "Sounds like she’s just stringing him along." He grabbed another piece of food and, after swallowing, cautioned Sir Richard. "Tell Geoffrey not to be fooled by that face. What kind of straight man would dress like that? It’s a classic case of false advertising."

Chapter 4

Sir Edward Blackwood felt that given the current developments, he couldn't stay at home much longer; otherwise, his mother would be capable of anything.
He immediately booked a flight to the Land of Italia for tomorrow. After getting back to his car, his phone buzzed with messages.
In addition to the address, Lady Cecilia Ravenswood mentioned she had already informed Lady Isabella Hawthorne about his visit. She also noted that Lady Isabella's accident was related to her being distracted while fetching something for herself, urging Sir Edward to be a bit more patient due to her injuries.
With his mother expressing herself so openly, if he didn't go pick her up, it was likely that returning home would be more than just a relentless lecture. Knowing that Lord Thomas Blackwood and his grandfather would be around tonight, Sir Edward decided he didn't want to cause further discomfort for his family. Besides, he was leaving tomorrow, so it wasn't worth sweating the small stuff.
He entered the address into his GPS and realized it was quite close—only about three kilometers away.
The Ark Academy of Arts was the top art university in Town of Valecourt. Lady Cecilia had previously mentioned that Lady Isabella was a graduate of this school and was currently pursuing her graduate degree.
Though Lady Cecilia had mentioned her specific program, it had gone in one ear and out the other for Sir Edward; he couldn’t remember the details now.
Following the directions, he arrived at the Amethyst Lake Campus of Ark Academy of Arts. The scenery was beautiful; it was an open, garden-like campus where visitors could enter after registering their information. Sir Edward reached a rather old four-story building, its faded red bricks and gray tiles, chipped stone steps, and colored stained glass windows, overgrown with vines—clearly a product of the last century.
Classes were still in session, and he could see students in three classrooms on the first floor by the windows.
Peering through the car window, he noticed that all three were sculpture studios. Two of them were holding theory classes, while the middle room’s students had their long aprons on, pushing desks and chairs against the walls, engaged in practical work.
Groups of students huddled together, manipulating nearly a dozen half-finished human sculptures in their hands.
During their early married days, Lady Cecilia had sent Sir Edward many photos of Lady Isabella Hawthorne, but not a single one he had opened; they’d all been promptly deleted. Now, tasked with picking someone up, he realized the dilemma—despite Lady Cecilia indicating that Lady Isabella was in the middle studio, he had no clue which student was her.
He sat in his car for a moment contemplating whether to ask Lady Cecilia for a photo again when the school bell rang.
Students emerging from the theoretical classes on either side began to pack up, while the middle classroom remained still. Sir Edward waited a bit longer; four songs had played on the car’s stereo before finally, students began trickling out. He scanned the crowd, only focusing on the males.
Lady Cecilia had mentioned that Lady Isabella had fair skin, delicate features, and wore glasses, which should make her easy to spot. But whether aesthetic trends had changed over the past couple of years, he was taken aback to see two or three male students with similar traits—white skin and wearing glasses.
However, these boys looked average at best, and Sir Edward had to admit his mother's standards weren’t wrong here. Still hanging around felt pointless, so he decided to step out and approached a male student who was walking by, asking if Lady Isabella Hawthorne was still in class.
The student glanced back. "Lady Isabella is still in there. She probably won't be out for a bit longer; you can just go inside and find her."
The student walked away after he spoke, leaving Sir Edward somewhat surprised. An assistant? Weren’t they supposed to be students? He didn't dwell on it; slipping in might be a bit abrupt, but it was better than wasting more time.
He ascended the chipped stone steps into the building, the wooden floor creaking beneath his feet, the signs of time clearly evident.
With his hand tucked in his pocket, standing at six feet one inch with striking features, he caught the attention of two girls on the opposite side the moment he walked in. But he kept his focus ahead and walked straight to the classroom door, gently pushing it open.
Inside, only seven or eight female students remained, gathered in a circle, discussing something animatedly.
The one at the center was busy fiddling with a sculpture, her shiny black hair barely visible above the workbench. Sir Edward couldn’t see her face, but judging by the faces surrounding her, he could surmise that the one they were huddled around must be Lady Isabella Hawthorne.
Sir Edward had seen many such scenes before; in school, whenever their charming vocal and physics teachers had classes, the girls would be buzzing around them like bees, never letting them leave after class, firing off questions.
Initially, Sir Edward had planned to call out to Lady Isabella to leave with him, but this made it awkward. He didn’t want to reveal their connection to the crowd, so instead, he leaned against the door frame, lit a cigarette, and took a drag.
“Hey senior, how do we handle this part? I always mess it up when I do it myself,” an eager student seemed to chime in after a question was settled.
“It’s not hard; you can use the sculpting tool to assist, just like this…”
As Sir Edward leaned against the wall, he suddenly heard Lady Isabella’s voice, nearly dropping the cigarette as he took notice.
Her voice was quite pleasant, though slightly… nasal.
Just as he entertained the thought of her perhaps having an issue with her throat, he heard a few suppressive coughs from the group. One of the girls, clearly the class vice president, quickly added, “Let’s call it a day for now. Our senior is still recovering from an injury; it’s amazing he’s been here with us till now. Everyone, head out.”
Following her lead, the rest of the students agreed and stood up, reminding Lady Isabella to rest, advising her to remember her medications, and one girl mentioned bringing her some fruit salad for nutrition, while another suggested topical pain relief patches.
Lady Isabella graciously declined each offer, and once the girls walked away, Sir Edward finally caught a glimpse of her.
Yet again, he couldn’t see her face, as she wore a blue surgical mask that covered her mouth and nose—only a pair of eyes shone through the metal-framed half-moon lenses of her glasses, locking eyes briefly with Sir Edward.
Those eyes were delicate, and his stance towering over her while sitting made her seem almost like two slender peach blossoms, the skin around the corners slightly flushed.

Chapter 5

Sir Edward Blackwood was momentarily taken aback by the sharp glance leveled at him. He was just trying to come up with a suitable greeting when Lady Isabella Hawthorne stood up, seemingly unaware of him, and coldly declared, “Sir, this is a classroom, and smoking is not permitted. Please leave.”
Although Sir Edward had never met Lady Isabella Hawthorne before, she frequently visited his home and even slept in his room—there was no way she hadn’t seen him. Besides, Lady Cecilia Ravenswood had mentioned she would be there to meet her, so he was puzzled by Lady Isabella's abrupt dismissal. In that moment, he realized that she likely shared the same assumptions about him as he did about her.
Feeling the curious stares of the female students directed at him, Sir Edward felt a flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks. He quickly turned and returned to his car.
A little over ten minutes later, Lady Isabella re-emerged, gathering her belongings. The students had long since departed, leaving only one who accompanied her to lock the door, hand over the keys, and exchange a few parting words.
Sir Edward squinted, watching as Lady Isabella walked towards the car, seemingly about to say something when his phone rang, interrupting the moment.
Her right hand was injured, so she placed a stack of lesson plans on the hood of the car to check her phone.
The call was from Lady Cecilia Ravenswood, and Lady Isabella stepped back a couple of paces to answer.
Though her voice was soft, Sir Edward was still close enough to hear her words clearly.
“Yes, Mom, I saw him.”
“Uh-huh, I understand, you don’t need to worry.”
“Alright, see you later.”
Her tone was far kinder than it had been in class, showcasing an unexpected depth in a man's voice that was rare, yet somehow perfectly suited to Lady Isabella.
After hanging up, she turned back, brushing off the ambiguous gaze from within the car and speaking calmly, “I apologize for my earlier tone. It was inappropriate given the school setting.”
But perhaps it was the mask she wore that masked any true sense of contrition; Sir Edward struggled to perceive any genuine apology in her demeanor, despite the words spoken.
Regardless, he didn't want to dwell on it. He may have felt annoyed, but he didn't intend to hold a grudge. “Get in the car,” he directed.
She nodded and made her way to the back seat, opening the door with her good hand as she steadied herself against the seat.
As she settled in, she lowered her head, and a propitious angle revealed a familiar sight—until his gaze fell on a segment of white bandage exposed past her rolled-up sleeve, and suddenly it clicked.
Dressed in a crisp white shirt and black trousers, with that elastic bandage on her wrist and the bangs covering her eyes as she bowed her head, she resembled the woman who had performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation just the afternoon before.
The thought echoed in his head as Lady Isabella paused momentarily to look over the front seat at the car's dashboard, then exited again to retrieve the lesson plans she'd left on the hood.
Once she was finally settled, she turned to him and said, “Sorry about that. You can drive now.” With that, she reached for her seat belt, struggling a bit due to her right hand being unusable.
The hardship of her struggle reminded him of how she’d stood by the roadside earlier, desperately trying to open a water bottle. He had assumed she was a doctor for her responsiveness in that dire moment, but perhaps she merely had some first aid training.
Lost in thought, he noticed Lady Isabella had finally buckled her seatbelt and raised her gaze when he didn’t start the car immediately.
Their eyes met in the rearview mirror, and after the incident, he found there was less animosity in his regard for her now.
He averted his gaze, stepped on the gas, and turned the car around.
Ark Academy of Arts' Amethyst Lake Campus was beautifully landscaped, and while visitors could drive in, strict limits were enforced. Sir Edward had taken note during their approach that cars were sparse; no taxis were in sight, but a decent number of bicycles cluttered the campus. Given Lady Isabella's hand injury, he surmised she would have had difficulty walking out if he hadn’t come.
The winding road offered picturesque views, but it would have taken a good forty-five minutes on foot to reach the campus exit.
“As I thought,” he mused, when they arrived at the gates. Lady Isabella pressed the window button, and upon seeing her face, the gatekeeper allowed them passage. Instead of rolling the window back up, she gazed across the street at a row of shops and said, “Could you pull over at the alley up ahead? I need to grab something I ordered. It won’t take long.”
With no rush, Sir Edward nodded and parked at the alley entrance, setting the handbrake as she exited the vehicle.
Lady Isabella didn’t go far; she turned into the third bakery at the alley entrance.
Sir Edward recognized the bakery’s decor as Scandinavian style and recalled seeing the sign for a local chain renowned for its baked goods. Lady Cecilia often brought home cakes from this place for snacking.
Habitually, Sir Edward pulled out a cigarette and lit it while scrolling through his playlist for a piano piece. He glanced out the window, finally resting his gaze back on the bakery.
Due to its glass facade, he had a clear line of sight to Lady Isabella standing near the register, chatting with the cashier. Moments later, a staff member approached her with a red box, opening it for her to inspect.
She was facing away, so he couldn’t see her expression, only the focused intensity in her gaze as she watched the baker carefully wrap her purchase—a birthday cake, he realized, as she emerged clutching the box with her left hand while she grappled to open the door using her arm's strength since her right was unusable.
In that moment, Sir Edward put two and two together: no one had celebrated a birthday in the household for days; this must be Lady Isabella’s birthday.
Suddenly, he recalled Lady Cecilia's insistence about getting flowers for Lady Isabella. It was all adding up—a birthday cake meant to mark the occasion.

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