'Sometimes the right answer is the simplest one'
Having sorted through my thoughts and conclude with a definite line of action, I set forth towards the living room.
With strides fuelled with determination-driven confidence, I cover the length of the hallway and proceed down.
I clear my throat.
"Er..." I arrest my words, gulping down my nerves, I continue now having gained the attention of my subject.
"What is it, Liv?" Gentleness is detectable in his tone. His eyes--hidden behind the black-rimmed frame of his glasses, detach from his laptop screen that's atop his lap and focus on me.
"Do you need something?" Wesley asks again, his tone never faltering.
Not being a fan of many words works up too much of a disadvantage for me on eves such as this. My words held hostage in my mind, I push them--with much effort--towards my lips.
"Do you by any chance know where can I find the boxes we brought when we moved?" I mentally praise myself for articulating it with rather such effortlessness.
His brow rises for a brief second as though in thought. "The ones from your old place?" He states sounding it out as a question.
"My best guess," he takes a moment to think, "would be the basement," he says after much deliberation.
"Try the storage unit in the West wing," he adds in suggestion. "Although, can I asks why do you need them all of a sudden?" He inquires with an undertone of suspicion.
"I'm trying to find my trophies and certificate," I explain my pre-rehearsed excuse. "It's probably in there," I add as an afterthought.
"Oh, alright," he nods. "Do you need any help?" He asks, to which I shake my head negatively.
Mumbling a quick "thanks," I leave the living room and proceed towards his suggested location.
With my mind running a mile a minute, I managed to locate the said storage room with surprising ease.
A rather small room when compared to the usual room sizes spread across this humongous mansion. The walls painted a rather dull colour of deep faded blue, with mounts of boxes and filing cabinets pushed up against them.
I put my germaphobe to rest when I realize that for a storage unit that is evidently so neglected, this place is rather dust free.
'Okay! Now to the real task at hand'
Having so much to cover in such little time, I dive head-first into the sea of cardboard. Rummaging through each folder, each packet and every box, I leave no spot unexcavated!
It takes the batter half of an hour before I land my hands on anything remotely useful. But when I do, it sure feels rewarding!
"Got it!" I mumble under my breath in unsurpassable triumph. My eyes glued to the worn faded grey folder. Its cover peeling away to reveal the cardboard backing inside it.
Pulling it open with much haste, I flip through the pages loosely running my eyes over each one in search of my birth certificate.
It doesn't take much time, my eyes catching sight of the familiar piece of paper within the first five pages.
But disappointment and dejection soon flood, engulfing the initial feeling of triumph with its dark aura.
--to certify the birth of: Miss. Olivia Maria Faith Hart---
My expression cannot even begin to depict my disbelief! 'It was here...right here--and now... it's not!'
No explanation seems reasonable enough! I can clearly recall seeing it right here! Olivia Faith Ashford! It was right there!
'It was Ashford. Not Hart!'
Self-doubt doesn't take long to make its presence known. And with that, my mind cascades down a spiral of doubt, suspicion and curiosity.
Something sinister is in the air. I can feel it! Something just isn't adding up.
With undeterrable resolute, and newfound curiosity embued fire within, I push aside logic and continue my search. Only this time, even I'm left unaware of what I am in search of.
I rummage through the boxes piled on boxes, I pull open every drawer of the filing cabinet, I peer through the delicate folders--evident by their deteriorating condition to be rather old--and I look scan over every page I encounter.
'How long have I been down here for?' I search my mind yet fall short of an answer.
And while the thought of retiring my search--of a rather desultory nature--forms in my mind, it's banished by an unknown peculiarity in the folder--an album--in front of me that catches my attention.
It very well may have been her long black hair, or perhaps it's her red-stained lips that curve so elegantly to frame her pearly whites. Maybe it's her majestic silk emerald dress that fits her figure to perfection...whatever it is, it captured my attention.
'She's gorgeous!'
The photograph I mere seconds ago just glanced over, I now admire with a newfound curiosity.
Running a delicate finger across its glossy finish, I try spotting familiar faces and I do so successfully managing to spot Ryan, next to the woman in green--who caught my attention in the beginning.
This image I soon categorize as a candid. And not the kind of fake candid we are now in the habit of taking...this one appears to be genuine.
A few good years fall off of Ryan in this picture as he is captured with a cheerful gleam in his eyes while being handed what appears to be a baby by the woman in green.
Taking that fact into account I come to the realization that this photo was taken during a Christening party.
It doesn't take long before I spot yet another familiar face. A rather kid-looking version of Enrique himself. He's standing beside another young boy I can only imagine being a young Wesley.
'A happy family' I conclude, having put the baby I spot in Ryan's arms as none other than Kayden!
'What happened to her?' I wonder. My eyes are unable to leave the magnetic image of the woman in green--their mother, my best guess.
'They look so happy!'
I stay looking at the picture for a few more moments, a small part of me envies their happiness. But I'm quick to crush that feeling before it can turn into anything more.
A few more subtleties, in all honesty, may warrant my attention, I come to notice but captivated by the beautiful yet mysterious lady dominating the forefront of the photo clouds my judgement.
'Her eyes look so kind'
'She must have been a very caring mother' I deduce my conclusion from the look of sheer affection I can clearly see she has directed towards her baby. The crowd stands witness to the affection evident in the eyes of the two boys standing close by her side, their gaze focused up towards her in admiration.
After spending the better part of a few more moments making up a good twenty minutes, just admiring the image, I pull myself away from it and flip the page.
Flipping through a good few more pages of the album nothing more catches my attention. I catch a few more glimpses of the woman and the guys, but nothing of peculiar interest--but I also wasn't looking.
Being down with that album I place it carefully back in the exact spot I found it before moving on to another folder.
I scan and flip like I've done oh so many times in the short span of the past few hours, but something to indulge my curiosity is yet to pop out.
I frown just as I mindlessly flip through yet another page, but this time I stop. A page very similar to the one I came in search of here--a birth certificate--but just one notable point of difference, It isn't my birth certificate...it's Kayden's.
I scan it with much unexplainable intrigue. My fingers run over each name.
--Kayden Harman Ashford
--son of: Herminia Clovia Hart-Ashford--my fingers freeze over the name.
"What in hell's name are you doing down here?" A calm yet sinister voice rings behind me, leaving my body in a paralytic state, unable to move.
Ryan...
Author's Note:
Hey, hope you enjoyed this chapter!
I've been getting back to reading my old 'Agatha Christie' books and I'm positive it has impacted my writing style a bit...I hope you guys enjoy that and do leave your thoughts in the comments.
Also if you have a favourite Agatha Christie or any mystery thriller book leave that down in the comment as well, I would love to know!
At the moment my absolute favourite is the 'Murder on the Orient Express'
Anyway...
Thanks for reading!
Comment & vote
Stay healthy and happy
~Kia