'Every mystery has to begin somewhere'
Everything leading up from the hospital to the day of the funeral is a blur.
I vaguely recall snippets of the car ride back to the mansion. Kayden sat in the back, offering nothing but a comforting hand, holding onto me as I did to him.
Wesley and Enrique, engross themselves in deep colloquy, yet succeed in doing so without so much so as an exchange of words.
Ryan stayed back at the hospital only to return much later once the sun had set. His clothes sporting the same state they had been in at the hospital. His eyes look lost, his hair dishevelled and, he was a mess, but so was I.
No one left me alone, yet they managed to not breathe down my neck. My phone won't stop buzzing from the countless calls I choose to ignore.
Staring down from my bedroom window with much impassiveness, I watch as the last of the 'relatives' offer their final condolences as they bid farewell by the front door.
"Hey." A gentle arm lays firmly yet comfortingly across my shoulders. I avert not my gaze from the window.
"It's over, you did great out there," Wesley acknowledges, yet again briefly earning my attention.
"It's going to be quite alright," he assures.
"I don't think it will," I admit solemnly. My gaze peeling away from the window, now finding focus on him.
He sighs softly unable to deny the truth behind my words. "Eventually," he says after a few moments. "You get used to it."
'I won't let myself forget it'
'Not until I know for certain the person responsible for this is held accountable'
"It's not a wise decision," Wesley snaps me out of my internal monologue. I frown, question hanging in my gaze.
"That determination you have pasted over your face, it's all too familiar," he points out.
"But sorting after vengeance has never been a good coping mechanism. Does neither party any good." I frown at his words.
"But that doesn't go to say, that in the long run, one can't learn to find solace in it," he adds darkly.
His words leave me in a cryptic haze, to say the least. Yet in a sense unperceivable to me, I understand the essence of his statements.
A knock on the door grips both of our attention. "Sir, miss, your presence is requested at the supper table," says the petite woman standing by my door dressed in what I can assume to be her uniform.
With a brisk nod, she is dismissed by Wesley. "We shouldn't keep them waiting," he says offering me a hand once he has raisin to his full length while I stay seat by the window.
"I'm not hungry," I dismiss, unmovingly.
"Well you should be, considering you haven't eaten the whole day and it's almost sundown now," he replies.
I shrug. 'Well, I'm not' I don't voice my thoughts.
He sighs at my unwillingness. "Alright then," he mumbles under his breath before reluctantly leaving the room.
Now left in a lowly loomed room with just my thoughts and eminent mystery hanging in the air, I let my mind process things.
'They know something I don't' I can't help but conclude. All this is too much of a coincidence.
My heart clenches as my mind briefly ponders over the fact that I now stand as not just a fatherless, but a motherless child as well. An orphan. My new identity. One not of choosing, yet imposed by a stranger with a motive and a gun.
Roughly I wipe away a lonely tear as it escapes the guarded confines of my impassive eyes.
'This isn't a time to mourn.'
'This wasn't an accident, or natural case. This was murder. Cold-blooded murder'
And there now stands little to nothing that can withhold me from digging up the truth and finding the person or persons responsible for snatching my mum from me.
She wasn't perfect, I admit. But who was? I loved her...no. I love her, that will never stop or change.
A knock pulls me back to reality, my hand instinctively flying to my face to ensure no evidence of my brief displacement of grief is evident.
"Can I come in?" Kayden asks from his position by the door.
'When did he ever ask for permission before?' I frown, yet nod permitting him.
"Heard you were on a hunger strike," he says, a hint of humour detectable in his demeanour.
"Not hungry," I shrug.
"Well it's a good thing you don't need to be hungry to grab milkshakes then," he replies wittily.
"Don't want one."
"Well I do, and I really..." he drags out his words, "don't want to go alone. So come with?" he offers a pleading look which is rather hard to refuse.
I take in a deep breath, before exhaling. "Fine," I give him earning a brilliant smile from him.
"That's my girl!" He cheers over-enthusiastically, earning an eye roll from me.
Still dressed in the simple black velvet dress I wore to the funeral service, I decide against changing. The lack of will and energy being the main reason.
"Let's go then?" He asks, I nod affirmatively.
The first thing as I leave the security of the mansion's front door is the crowd of people armed with cameras and microphones swamping the gates down the driveway.
Each lens aimed at the door like a hunter's rifle aimed at its prey, following its every move and waiting for the perfect opportunity to fire--or in their case click.
'Even in grief why can't they leave us alone'
Having lived with the Ashfords for what seems and feels to be a very long time, being hounded by the paparazzi I've learnt for them is somewhat of a norm. For me? Not so much.
Having had Enrique's face be the cover of more than one Forbes magazine could have contributed to their unfathomable obsession with the Asfords. Ryan's name featuring relatively high up on their 'Top 100 most influential people in the Country' list could quite as well have contributed to it.
Question after question, the most insensitive in nature, are thrown our way with not much time between them to comprehend them much less answer them.
Kayden tries his best to speed past them, effectively ignoring them as he does, yet with determination strong enough not to be deterred by a moving car pushing past his way, the reporters stand firm following the car as they do. Their questions have no end.
"Do you suspect this to be the work of your rivals?"
"Mr Ashford, who do you hold accountable for this tragedy?"
"Will Miss. Hart continues to be a part of this family?" ---That question struck home, yet I force myself to turn a deaf ear.
"Miss. Hart, do you know who could possibly want your mother dead?"
"Mr Ashford, what impact will this tragedy have on your company's upcoming deal with the McMurphry Groups?"
Finally being able to push pasts the sea of paparazzi, we both let out a sigh of relief.
"Never listen or indulge those fucking mutts, all they care about is their next breaking news and their channel rating," he says distastefully, throwing a scornful glare behind at them.
Angry and disdain are still thick in the air, my mind can't help but wonder. 'What will happen to me now that mum's...not here?'
It feels to be a rather selfish thought. 'Am I being selfish?' Having laid my mother to rest mere hours ago, here I am worrying about myself.
"Oh I know that look," Kayden sighs in defeat. "They got to you didn't they?" He states sounding it out as a question.
"What happens now, Kay?" I ask with much caution in my words.
"We go get milkshakes?" He frowns.
"No," I say gravely. "What happens now...to me?" I clarify.
'He's going to think I'm an insensitive selfish brat isn't he?' I coach my brain preparing for the worst.
'How bad could it be? He says he's disgusted at me for thinking about myself or what? He tells me that I'm being moved to some orphanage.'
My thoughts run wild with possibilities and probabilities.
"I didn't quite understand what you meant?" He says before a moment of thoughtful silence.
"Wha--Where..." I cut myself off unable to word my thoughts.
"What now Kay?" I say after much deliberation. "Mum's..." I trail off, "gone," I mumble. "What happens now?"
He frowns. He takes a few moments to think over my words only to have realization strike and disbelief engulf his expression.
'I knew it! He's disgusted by me!' A wave of insecurities floods my mind, my anxiety just feeding off of it.
"Isn't obvious?" He asks, his emotions indecipherable.
"An orphanage?" I mumble under my breath in solemn acceptance.
"What the fuck? No!" He exclaims, his tone an octave away from being a yell.
"What the fu--How...Wait why in fuck name would you think that?" He demands evidently outraged by my implication.
I cast my eyes away from him.
"Livy, you aren't going anywhere," he declares in a stern tone--an unusual one to be used by him, letting me know he means it.
"You're our little sis, and we don't abandon family," he says gravely, before adding, "no matter how annoying, stubborn and a little shit-head they are." Light-handed humour hinting in his tone.
Family...
That's what he said I am...family.
The feeling his statement evoked, is one I haven't felt before. Yet it offers such security, such comfort...it's crazy.
If only I was an Ashford...
And like a switch being flipped my mind snaps. Going back to the time I first heard their name--Ashford--
And it could just as well be a coincidence, but what if it isn't?
'How common is the last name Ashford after all?' I wonder.
Like a puzzle falling back into place, I piece together something that to anyone would seem absurd...imaginary even, but in my mind, in this very moment, it made perfect sense.
'How could I have been so blatantly oblivious?'
'Everything was right there!'
Maybe having had 'Ashford' on my birth certificate wasn't such a coincidence after all. Ryan knows Mum's family, everything moving so quickly, the kidnapping...everything now seems to be connected...yet so incomplete.
It's like I have the corner piece of this enormous puzzle, yet I'm missing the big picture.
What if, Mum's murder has nothing to do with her present with Ryan, but her past without him?
What if it had something to do with both?
Could my memory of the playground be connected?
Concluding solemnly that it is only through finding the answers to these questions will I be able to piece together the rest of this puzzle.
But I need to start at the beginning:
I need to find that birth certificate...
Author's Note:
Hey! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I know it's all over the place, but I'm trying to get back into my writing mindset...so do forgive any mistakes.
Thanks for reading, I do appreciate each one of you who take the time to read my work and help me better my work.
Do comment and vote
~Kia