You, Just You | ongoing

i. usque ad initium

i. usque ad initium

[ the beginning ]

"No." He shook his head. "No, I refuse."

"You have no choice. It was something we'd agreed upon more than a decade ago, or is your usual pristine memory failing you?"

Victor Ashford gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the opposing figure of his father seated in front of him. "No, but I'm thirty years old and I ought to have a choice to choose who I want to spend the rest of my life with."

His father arched a disdainful brow. "You do still have a choice." A weathered hand shoved the thin folder towards him over the smooth oakwood desk.

Eyeing the folder with disgust and resentment, Victor flicked his eyes back towards his father. "How is that having a choice?" he hissed. "As if picking a woman from your fucking list is defined as having a choice!"

"You had the chance to find your own wife in the past ten years, have you forgotten?" Philippe Ashford thundered out, blue eyes flashing. "You should be grateful—thanking me on your knees that I'm even letting you choose from the eligible women here in England and not simply informing you to turn up on your wedding day to meet your wife for the first time!"

He swallowed, teeth grinding and he clenched his fists until his fingernails cut deep into his palms, drawing blood. It was best for him to remain silent. He wouldn't put it above his father to do as he had just said. 

Upon his silence, his father eyed him in smug satisfaction and settled back in his armchair, hands clasped together in a deceptively calm manner. "That's what I thought. Now, go on."

Reluctantly, Victor reached out for the plain white folder and flipped it open and automatically, a scowl settled on his face.

What was in the folder were pictures and details of the various women his father considered ideal for the Ashford family. The women were all of rich, noble backgrounds and were often heralded as beauty of the season annually.

Most would see perfect beauties of the decade—all of these women would be ideal to be part of the Ashford family, to be painted and have their portrait added to the third hallway gallery, where every member of the Ashford family tree were displayed. 

Instead, all he saw were manipulative, social-climbing women—none were appealing to him in the least.

Especially not after her.

It felt like he'd been flipping the fucking folder for ages until a particular set of brown eyes caught his attention.

Pausing ever so slightly, he flipped back to the thirteenth page and stared at the blonde haired woman whose gaze met the camera in a calm and yet demure manner.

With the previous women shooting sultry confident smiles, this woman with her warm brown eyes and the subtle tilt of a corner of her mouth stood out in her simplicity and assuredness.

That being said, she wasn't plain or unbecoming. She was eye-catching in her understated beauty and elegance that seem to radiate from her very being despite the fact he was only holding on to a mere photo.

Intrigued, his eyes dipped down to the information about her.

Jenessa Camille Caldwell.

He blinked, read the name once more and blinked again in quick succession.

A Caldwell?