Chapter 4
SOME TIME AGO…
Henriette stepped out of the courtroom with lead in her chest and a crumpled paper clenched in her fist. Her heels echoed against the marble floors, but the sound barely reached her ears. The divorce decree felt heavier than it looked, like it carried every mistake she had ever made.
She caught a glimpse of them, her ex-husband and his mistress, laughing as they slid into a sleek car. The same car she’d paid for. The engine purred to life, a final insult humming in her ears.
Not even a year, she thought bitterly, her eyes burning. He couldn’t wait even a year before falling in love with someone else.
She wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve, pretending the tears were nothing more than wind irritation.
“Henriette!” a voice called out behind her.
She turned slightly, recognizing her lawyer’s voice before seeing him. “Can we talk tomorrow?” she asked, lifting the divorce certificate in the air like a flag of surrender. “I just need time to... process.”
He stepped closer and pressed a worn leather folder into her hands. “This might help.”
She stared at it. “What is it?”
“I kept it out of the settlement,” he said, lowering his voice. “Didn’t think it would matter to your ex.”
Henriette frowned, suspicion flickering through her grief. “Was that legal?”
He placed a hand gently on the folder. “Technically, it wasn’t part of the marriage assets. It’s a property. Still in probate. Your brother didn’t want it, too much hassle, he said. But he insisted it go to you. After the divorce.”
“A property?” Her curiosity stirred for the first time all day. “A family heirloom or something?”
“Something like that.” He gestured toward his car as the valet handed over the keys. “Come on. Let me show you.”
“As long as it doesn’t cost me anything,” Henriette muttered, sliding into the passenger seat. “I’m broke now, thanks to that charming ex of mine.”
“I’m aware,” he said with a chuckle.
“It’s not funny,” she snapped.
“Didn’t say it was.”
She rolled her eyes. His constant smirking had always irritated her, but she let it go. “So this property... is it even livable?”
He nodded. “It’s a castle.”
She blinked. “A dump, then.”
He laughed. “It passed inspection. You could move in tomorrow if you wanted.”
Henriette thumbed through the folder. The photos showed stone walls, ivy-covered windows, creaky wood, and faded charm. “It doesn’t look awful,” she admitted. “I could renovate it. Sell it.”
“It’s not worth much as-is. But with your eye for design, you could turn it around. Maybe even run it as a museum for a year or two, make some money before selling.”
“History isn’t exactly my thing,” she said, flipping through the yellowed documents. The smell reminded her of forgotten libraries.
“But restoration is,” he countered. “You’ve got talent. And this place is filled with over a thousand paintings. No info on the artists, but some of them date back to periods missing from official records.”
“You’ve done your research.”
“My assistant has,” he admitted as the car rolled to a stop in front of a towering wrought-iron gate etched with gothic patterns.
Henriette leaned forward. It looks even bigger in person.
Her lawyer hopped out and tried the gate. It didn’t budge. “Stuck. We’ll have to climb.”
“Seriously?” She gestured at her outfit. “This is my best look.”
He smirked. “Suit yourself.”
With a sigh, she got out. Her curiosity tugged harder than her vanity. “Let’s walk the perimeter. Maybe there’s a break in the wall.”
They walked along the mossy edge, her heels sinking slightly in the grass. The view opened beneath them—rolling hills, clusters of trees, and beyond that, the shimmering city skyline. She paused. “It’s beautiful.”
Ten minutes later, they found a crumbled section and slipped through. Another twenty minutes and they reached the massive front doors.
“These keys look like something out of a fantasy novel,” Henriette said, watching him fumble with an ancient ring.
“It even has a dungeon.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Charming.”
The doors creaked open and a damp, musty smell hit her like a slap. “How did this place pass inspection?”
“Good bones,” he said, stepping in.
At least the windows were huge, flooding the stone halls with soft daylight. The dust danced in the beams like tiny ghosts.
“Come on,” he urged, heading up the winding staircase. “You’ve got to see the bedrooms.”
Henriette followed slowly, her hand trailing the worn banister. Paintings lined the hall, portraits of women in flowing gowns, some so eerily similar to her they made her skin crawl.
She stopped in front of one. A man with a crown stood beside a woman who could’ve been her mirror image. “Okay… that’s unsettling.”
“Your brother’s doppelganger shows up too, but not as exact as this one,” her lawyer said, examining another frame.
“And he didn’t want any of this?”
“Not a bit.”
They stepped into a grand bedroom.
“This is bigger than my entire apartment,” Henriette breathed.
“Both of ours combined,” he added.
She wandered to the window, drawn by the breathtaking view. Her gaze swept over the sprawling grounds, "I can imagine horses galloping through the fields and women sipping tea under the trees."
“Maybe not tea,” her lawyer joked. “Some kind of herbal infusion, probably.”
He opened a door to a connected room. “After you, my lady.”
“The first thing I’m fixing,” she said, stepping into the outdated bathroom.
“So, what’s the plan? Fix and flip?”
Henriette exhaled. “Where would I even get the money?”
“Your brother,” he said casually.
She shot him a look. “Lurick? The same Lurick who didn’t want this place?”
“He said he'd fund your project.”
Henriette didn’t respond immediately. She turned, letting her eyes take in the fading grandeur, the potential beneath the dust. Slowly, her mind began to tick through designs, renovations, and possibilities.
Maybe this place wasn’t the end of something.
Maybe it was the beginning.