Fallen 21

Fallen 21 Summary

Meadow, still recovering from a concussion, makes her way down the stairs late in the evening, feeling the weight of her recent trauma and the confusion clouding her mind. Nova had visited earlier and expressed admiration for Alaric’s grand estate, believing Meadow to be safe now that she was with her “husband.” Although Meadow hasn’t told Nova about accepting Alaric’s proposal, she suspects Nova already knows.

 

Alone and restless, Meadow is drawn to the kitchen by the inviting smells of Mel’s cooking. Mel, a calm and composed woman who has worked for Alaric and his family for a long time, immediately notices Meadow’s unease and gently chides her for not resting. Their conversation reveals Mel’s loyalty to Alaric and hints at the complexity of his private life and family, which Meadow finds intriguing but also mysterious.

 

As they talk, Meadow struggles with feelings of isolation and frustration, wanting to be involved rather than just a passive observer in her new life. She tries to help Mel despite being told to rest, leading to a brief clash where Meadow insists on doing things her way, revealing her defiant and overwhelmed state. Mel’s subtle teasing and guarded responses deepen the sense of secrecy surrounding Alaric.

 

The chapter ends with a sudden interruption by Alaric’s voice, startling Meadow so much that she drops the plates she was holding, signaling an unexpected moment of tension and the beginning of a new interaction between them.

CHAPTER 0021

Meadow’s Perspective:

It was well past seven in the evening when I slowly made my way down the winding staircase, each step deliberate but heavy. My head throbbed faintly, a lingering reminder of the concussion I’d suffered earlier. The dull ache pulsed beneath my skull, making me wince slightly as I descended.

Nova hadn’t lingered for long. Upon arriving at the mansion, she had been utterly captivated by the sheer size and grandeur of Alaric’s estate. She couldn’t stop marveling at it, practically gushing about how massive and impressive the place was. And if I had to guess, she was about eighty-five percent certain that I was now in “safe hands” with my so-called husband.

I hadn’t yet told her that I was planning to accept Alaric’s proposal and agree to the deal, but honestly, I was almost sure she already suspected it. The way she looked at me, the subtle nods—it was as if the secret was already out.

After Nova had left, the rest of the afternoon slipped by in a haze of restless thoughts. I had tried to sleep, desperately wanting to shut my mind off, but it was futile. My thoughts kept racing, spiraling into endless loops I couldn’t escape. Overthinking had always been a part of who I was. It was one of the main reasons I hated being alone and why I hadn’t hesitated to move in with Tyler when he’d asked me.

Now, after all the chaos and drama that had unfolded over just one weekend—the very same weekend I’d expected to be walking down the aisle—my mind was a whirlwind of confusion and doubt.

I couldn’t bear another moment of solitude.

So, drawn by the enticing smells wafting through the air, I made my way down to the kitchen, almost floating down the stairs as the rich aromas pulled me in.

Mel was an incredible cook, no doubt about it. Nova had confirmed it, and I was fairly certain that her confidence in leaving me in Alaric’s care was heavily influenced by Mel’s presence here.

As I entered the kitchen, I found Mel standing there, her hair loosely tied in a messy bun atop her head, stirring something gently in a pot. She looked exactly like the kind of woman whose very presence seemed to make everything better, calming the room with quiet assurance.

She turned to face me but didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see me there.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she studied me. “You’re supposed to be resting,” she said softly.

I felt a flicker of intimidation under her gaze. Mel wasn’t harsh or unkind, but she carried herself with a refined grace and a seriousness that I wasn’t sure I could ever emulate. I found myself wondering how long she’d been working for Alaric.

Clearing my throat, I stepped further into the kitchen and ran a hand through my hair, trying—unsuccessfully—to mimic her composed demeanor. Eventually, I gave up and wrapped my arms around myself instead. “Being alone in that suite feels like some kind of punishment,” I muttered. “Besides, if I lie down any longer, I’m pretty sure I’ll just melt into that mattress.”

Mel chuckled quietly, grabbing a clean dish towel to dry her hands. “Mr. Ashford did say you’d be difficult.”

I scoffed, amusement tugging at my lips. “Well, Mr. Ashford has only known me for a few days. And if anyone’s difficult, it’s him.”

Mel laughed again and turned back to the stove without missing a beat.

A brief silence settled between us as I slipped onto one of the stools by the marble countertop.

“Can I help?” I asked, hoping to be useful.

“Absolutely not,” she replied immediately, shooting me a playful glance over her shoulder. “Not unless you want me to disappear forever.”

Her tone was teasing, but I could tell there was affection beneath it.

I smirked and rolled my eyes. “I doubt Alaric would actually fire you. How long have you been working for him, anyway?”

For a moment, Mel’s posture stiffened just a little—so subtly that if I hadn’t been paying close attention, I might have missed it.

“A long while,” she said vaguely. “I’ve been with this family for quite some time.”

His family?

My eyes widened slightly at the mention. I wasn’t sure why the idea of Alaric having a family surprised me so much. After all, he was human. Someone had to have given birth to him.

Still, the thought sparked a new curiosity inside me. I wanted to know more about him, about the people connected to him.

“His family, huh?” I murmured, trying to sound casual. “What are they like?”

Mel sighed softly as she moved to rinse something in the sink. “Not my place to say.”

I tilted my head, intrigued. “Is that a no because they’re terrible people, or because it’s classified?”

Mel faced me with a small, knowing smile. “It’s a no because Mr. Ashford is a private man. I’ve learned not to speak for him, especially when he’s not around.”

That told me everything I needed to know—his family was probably not something simple or easy. I wondered if he would ever introduce me to them or if, like my own family, he had severed ties.

No, not like my family.

No one’s family was quite like mine.

I shook my head, trying to push away the flood of complicated emotions. My family was… messy, to say the least.

I leaned forward, watching Mel work with practiced ease. She chopped onions with a calm precision, her movements smooth and measured, like she’d done it countless times before.

Which, of course, she had.

“You really won’t let me help?” I asked again.

“I really won’t,” she said with a soft laugh. “Just sit. Talk. Rest. That’s the best help you can give right now.”

I huffed dramatically and dropped my head onto the cool marble countertop. “God, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“That would be unfortunate,” Mel replied smoothly, turning back to the pot. “Mr. Ashford does have a type.”

I blinked, feeling a strange tug at my chest. “And what’s that?”

Mel didn’t answer directly. Instead, she added a pinch of salt to the pot and stirred slowly, as if she hadn’t just implied that I fit the kind of woman Alaric was drawn to.

Knowing what I did about Alaric’s condition, I guessed his “type” meant women who could actually reach him, who could touch him in ways others couldn’t. I wondered if anyone ever had. If Alaric had ever felt the warmth of another woman’s touch.

For some reason, that thought sparked something inside me—a flicker of emotion I couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be.

I narrowed my eyes at Mel. “You know, for someone so proper and polite, you’re sneakier than you look.”

“Years of practice,” Mel said with a sly smile.

I studied her for a full minute. Yes, it seemed she’d honed her skills over many years, but that only made me want to ruffle her composed exterior even more.

Finally, I pushed myself off the stool. “Okay, I officially can’t just sit here and watch you do all the work.”

I reached for the stack of plates resting at the edge of the counter.

“Mrs. Ashford—” Mel began, her voice carrying a hint of warning.

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, frustration flaring. “My name’s Meadow, okay?”

Mel turned to face me fully, one brow arched as her eyes flicked between the plates in my hands and my face. “You do realize Mr. Ashford wouldn’t be pleased to see you doing this, don’t you?”

I smirked, feeling a surge of defiance. “Honestly? I don’t give a damn about what pleases Alaric.”

My words came out sharper than I meant, but I didn’t take them back. I was tired, overwhelmed, and irritated by how vague everyone was being about everything. I hated feeling like I was just along for the ride, clueless about what my life had become.

Mel pursed her lips but said nothing. Instead, she turned back to the stove and switched it off, signaling that she was finished cooking.

I took her silence as a small victory and started to turn away—only to be stopped by a voice slicing through the quiet kitchen.

Alaric’s voice. Cool, crisp, and unmistakably his.

“Is that right?”

I jumped, startled so badly that I accidentally dropped the plates I was holding.