16
Aurora
I arrive early to the King’s mansion.
On purpose.
If I’m going to be stuck here for the next six months, then I might as well rip off the Band-Aid.
However, there’s something else.
With the exception of the clusterfuck that happened around the dining table last night and how I embarrassingly came all over Jonathan’s fingers, there’s another issue that hasn’t left my brain.
The recording of Alicia’s voice. Her death message to me.
Considering Jonathan was her husband, he ought to inherit all that she left.
If he’s had that recording for eleven years, why would he send me that message now? Why in this way?
Granted, he’s lost track of me since Alicia’s death, but could this be another game of his?
The only other people who could have Alicia’s message for me is her lawyer or her son, Aiden.
The lawyer wouldn’t play games, I don’t think. As for Aiden… Well, I don’t know him enough to form any theories yet. What I’m sure of is that he wasn’t even aware I existed or he wouldn’t have called me Mum during our first meeting.
Besides, he’s on his honeymoon right now. There’s no way in hell he has time to plot this.
The prime suspect is inside these walls. Jonathan fucking King.
Once again, the front gate automatically opens. And again, I stare at the angel statue. My wrist, where my watch lies, itches as a sense of foreboding trickles down my spine.
I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, but I’ll bring you justice, Alicia.
When I was young and clueless, she used to hold me on her lap and tell me stories about fairies and castles. She used to read me fantasy novels like Harry Potter. I loved how her voice changed every time there was danger in a scene. My eyes would bug out and I’d wait with bated breath for the following chapters to unfold.
Even though we lived worlds apart, she never made me feel like I was worthless.
We did have so many differences to count. I grew up in Leeds while she lived in London. She was an aristocrat from both parents’ sides while I was an illegitimate commoner. Her noble origins showed in her tiniest gestures. From her smile to her delicate frown.
She was warm and softly spoken. Dying at only thirty was too harsh.
And that
’s why she needs justice.
And that’s why I can’t let whatever happened with Jonathan yesterday repeat again. He’s my sister’s husband for fuck’s sake.
As soon as I stop in front of the mansion, I unload my suitcase. I brought necessities and my laptop, and since I kept my flat, most of my stuff is still there.
The door opens and the woman from yesterday greets me. A younger man dressed in an elegant butler suit stands beside her. His skin is so pale that his green veins show through the surface of his hand.
“Tom will get your suitcase.” She motions at him and he silently springs into action. “Please follow me.”
I do, and even though it’s my second time here, the place’s majesty doesn’t lessen. If anything, it appears more grandiose in daylight.
“What’s your name?” I ask the woman, who’s walking one step ahead of me.
“Margot,” she says without sparing me a glance.