Secrets I've Held in My Heart

Chapter 13 : Ava

Entering the grand dining hall should've felt like slipping into a familiar embrace, considering how much time I'd spent in this opulent space with the Forbes family. But today was different. Today, I wasn't just another daughter at the breakfast table; I was officially a daughter-in-law.

The room itself was a sight to behold, dripping with extravagance. Intricate tapestries adorned the walls, and chandeliers bathed everything in a warm, golden glow. The dining table, long and polished, stretched out before me, each place setting meticulously arranged. Uncle Alfred, sitting at the head, exuded an air of authority that commanded respect. Beside him was Christian, my husband, offering me a reassuring smile as I settled into my seat. Across from Christian was Aunt Martha, the classy stepmom, and Rosa, Christian's big sister, plus her hubby Patrick Lester, who basically lived with us because, according to him, it's an act of "building an everlasting connection with his in-laws"

The servers, impeccably dressed, stood at the ready beside each of us, eager to cater to our every need. The dining table itself was a vision of culinary delight: fluffy eggs with chives, crispy bacon, buttery croissants with preserves, blueberry pancakes drenched in maple syrup, eggs Benedict with hollandaise sauce, smoked salmon with cream cheese on bagels, Greek yogurt parfait with berries and honey, an assortment of fruits, sausage links, biscuits with gravy, avocado toast topped with poached eggs, Belgian waffles crowned with whipped cream, a rainbow of freshly squeezed juices, mimosas, and champagne for those in the mood for a celebratory toast. A steaming pot of aromatic coffee completed the lineup.

The breakfast spread was a sensory overload, with aromas that were impossible to resist. Delicate china, glistening silverware, and crystal glasses added to the enchantment of the scene.

Surveying the table, I couldn't help but be awestruck by the sheer beauty and extravagance of it all. This morning marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life with the Forbes family. The lavish breakfast before us wasn't just food; it was a symbol of the warmth and hospitality that awaited me in my new role as part of this illustrious family.

Patrick chimed in with a sheepish smile, "You must feel lucky, Ava. I mean, at my first breakfast as a son-in-law, anyone merely joined, and I had to settle for avocado toast and an American breakfast set."

"Yeah, and let's not forget that the night before your 'first breakfast', you managed to lose five million at poker, and my poor brother had to foot the bill for your debt." Rosa couldn't resist teasing him further, her voice laced with irritation. "You literally ate 5 million in your dinner, babe." She added the word "babe" sarcastically, making it clear she wasn't letting him off easy.

"Rosa!" Alfred called her name with a bit of warning, cautioning her not to make fun of her husband.

"Fine, dad," she huffed and rolled her eyes. Then, she turned her attention to the delicious spread on the table, grabbed a fork and knife, and added, "Now that Ava is here, let's get started."

Christian chuckled softly and replied, "Yeah, let's get started." He snapped his fingers at the servers and motioned for them to begin serving the food.

As one of the servers—she is new, I guess—reached for the crispy bacon to place it on my plate, Christian promptly intervened, saying, "Hold on, don't put that on her plate. She's a vegetarian."

Martha playfully awed, "So cute! It's just day one of their marriage, and here he is, speaking on behalf of his wife."

Christian grinned and replied, "Isn't it only fair? After all, she is my better half."

I couldn't help but notice a slight soft smile on Alfred hinting that he was proud of the way Christian was treating me. Alfred may be Christian's dad, but trust me, he loves me more than he loves Christian.

"By the way, what have you planned for the night, Ava?" Martha asked.

I paused for a moment, trying to swallow down the croissants I had hastily taken a bite of a second ago. "For the night?" I replied, a hint of surprise in my voice.

"Yeah," Martha nodded, her eyes curious. "For the night. We have this ritual where the newlywed daughter-in-law prepares a feast for the evening, and in return, the family gives her presents as a gratitude for her hard work."

"Oh, you mean like a mini reception?" I asked.

Martha chuckled and replied, "Yeah, you can say that." She reached for a glass of water, took a sip, and then continued, "I don't know if you remember it or not, but when I first came here as a bride, I did the same. Alfred gifted me Martha Textiles." She extended her hand towards Alfred, encouraging him to hold her hand, and he romantically did so while she went on, "Its where I started my journey in the fashion world and eventually created my own brand."

"Aww! That's so romantic," I couldn't help but gush. "You're so lucky."

"Indeed," Rosa replied casually as she sipped her coffee. Then, with a low, taunting tone, she added, "Homewreckers are always the lucky ones," aiming her words at Martha.

It seemed that Alfred hadn't quite caught Rosa's statement as he continued sipping his coffee. However, the romantic colours that had graced Martha's face faded after Rosa's brutal comment.

Nevertheless, Martha chose to ignore it, forcing a smile and trying to steer the conversation back on track. "So, are you planning to do this, Ava?"

Christian set down his fork and looked at me, and it wasn't just him – everyone's eyes were fixed on me, waiting for my response. The pressure was palpable, and to avoid the weight of their collective gaze, I replied, "Yeah, sure. I can do that. I'll do that."

"Great," Martha beamed. "Then start preparing from now. It's gonna take you a lot of time, considering that you've never stepped into a kitchen before."

"Nah, you're wrong," Christian spoke up, defending me. "She once baked a cake."

Martha forced a smile and replied, "Yet, baking isn't cooking."

"Partially," Christian retorted. "But I thought our discussion was centered on 'stepping into the kitchen'," he added, his tone defensive, ready to get into an argument. In an instant, unspoken tension intensified between the stepmother and stepson, thickening the atmosphere with unresolved conflict.

"Alright, I'm done with my breakfast," Alfred pushed his chair back and graced me with a warm smile. "You know, love, you don't have to prepare a full-on feast. Feel free to make something that's easy for you. We'll enjoy whatever you…" he turned to Martha and continued firmly, "cook," then to Christian, "or bake," and then to me, but with a softer tone, "or make, including that deliciously crunchy cake." I could sense a hint of sarcasm in the last three words. Deliciously crunchy cake.

I don't know why he referred my cake as 'crunchy.' Aren't cakes supposed to be described as soft? And my cake was definitely soft. I didn't get to taste it, but I can bet it was good. In fact, it was so good that Dad and Christian devoured the whole thing without even letting me take a bite.

To be continued…