Five days had passed since Ashley's last encounter with Lorenzo. His offer still lingered in her mind, tempting her more with each passing moment. One thing she wanted more than taking out her revenge on christian Harrington was finding her daughter.
But the fear that Lorenzo might not be open to helping her again, especially after how harshly she'd spoken to him the last time, held her back. The words she'd thrown at him in her rage haunted her, making her wonder if she'd burned that bridge for good.
The absence of his gift was her answer– it had stopped coming right after their fight. She hadn't felt the relief she'd expected from it
She sighed, her desperation and patience grow thinner by the second. Nicolas hadn't made any progress, and she was starting to lose hope.
She sat at her desk, staring blankly at the papers in front of her. Her mind was a whirlwind, consumed by thoughts of everything going wrong around her. She had thought things were finally going to get better now that she'd found a family that showed her care. But she was wrong—the universe seemed to hate her more than she ever knew.
Two days ago, Mikael had been flown abroad to start Disease Modifying Therapy (DMT) at a hospital. After developing muscle weakness and coordination problems, Dr. Nolan suspected he was suffering from multiple sclerosis.
Michelle, on the other hand, had become a shadow of the woman she once was since her husband's illness began—a complete contrast to the cheerful, strong person she had been. Now, all she did was cry, and Ashley hated that she couldn't do anything to help. Her fear grew even more after learning that something similar had happened to Jason before his death. She couldn't bear the thought of losing another person she was starting to care about.
Her gaze caught on the romper peeking out of her handbag—the same one Vanessa had worn the day before she dropped her at the orphanage. Since then, she carried it everywhere.
Another sigh of exhaustion escaped her lips, her vision blurring as tears stung her eyes, turning the words on the paperwork into an unreadable mess.
She reached for the tiny pink garment with trembling hands, her gaze lingering on the delicate fabric. A lump formed in her throat, making it harder to swallow.
She clutched the romper and brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply between shuddering sobs. The lingering scent of her daughter's presence always gave her bittersweet comfort. But today, the scent seemed to be fading, a painful reminder of how long Vanessa had been gone. Her heart broke as her tears flowed freely.
She hugged the tiny cloth to her chest, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. "Mommy misses you, baby. I miss you so, so much," she croaked, feeling like her heart was shattering into a million pieces.
When Ashley could cry no more, she sat there, staring blankly into space.
A sudden knock on the door pulled her from her grief. She scrambled for composure, quickly drying her eyes and applying minimal makeup to mask her swollen face before speaking.
"Come in," she said, steadying her voice as much as she could.
The door opened, revealing Claire, who observed her with a skeptical look, as if sensing something was off.
"What is it, Claire?" She asked, pretending to be focused on the paperwork scattered across her desk.
Claire hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Mister Marcus Flynn is here to see you."
Ashley's gaze lifted, meeting Claire's eyes. She noted the tension in her assistant's posture, which piqued her curiosity—aside from the visitor's last name.
"Marcus Flynn?" she repeated, her brows knitting together. She could only hope the name was a coincidence and that she wasn't about to meet yet another long-lost relative.
"He's the chairman's nephew," Claire clarified, confirming Ashley's fears. Her heart skipped a beat. The chairman—her grandfather.
She swallowed hard. If Marcus was Mikael's nephew, that meant he was Raphael's son. She still remember Mikael saying Raphael was his only brother.
"Do you have any idea why he's..."
Before she could finish, the door suddenly swung open.
A brown-haired man, appearing to be in his late twenties, strode in, clutching a fancy red bag. He was dressed to impress in a white tailored trousers paired with a fitted blue long-sleeved shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms. And just as Ashley had feared, he bore an uncanny resemblance to Raphael.
Her pulse quickened as she took note of his arrogant smirk—one that only amplified the unsettling aura he carried with him. Ashley couldn't help but wonder about the content of the small bag he had come with.
"Hello, cousin," Marcus said smoothly, a wary smile flickering across his lips.
Ashley swallowed, unsure whether to acknowledge the overly familiar greeting. Even through Marcus' sunglasses, his piercing gaze made her skin prickle, as if he were studying every twitch of her expression.
"Hello," she finally replied, her voice firm despite the unease curling in her stomach. "My assistant was just telling me about you before you... entered," she added suggestively. "Please, have a seat."
Marcus cast Claire an unreadable glance before sauntering toward the leather chair across from Ashley.
Ashley's fingers curled around the edge of her desk as she waved Claire off, dismissing her. The door clicked shut, leaving her alone with the weird man.
"Forgive the unannounced visit, princess," Marcus murmured, taking off his glasses with deliberate ease. "I wanted to make up for not being present at your... installation party."
Ashley's brows creased. Princess? He didn't even know her. Why would he call her some weird nickname?
"It's Ashley," she corrected, offering a polite but firm smile.
"My bad, cousin," Marcus said, crossing one leg over the other, amusement flickering in his tone. Why wouldn't he just call her by her name?
"I guess I'm just too excited to meet my new relative."
Something about the way he settled into the chair—too at ease, too controlled—made Ashley's pulse tick faster. The unease she felt in her chest was eerily familiar. It was the same feeling she had when she first met Raphael at the party. The same air of arrogance. The apple never really fall far from the tree.
She knew Marcus wasn't just here for pleasantries. But she couldn't tell what exactly had brought him.
Managing a smile, she replied, "It's okay… I understand people are busy. You didn't have to go through the trouble of making up for your absence."
"No, I had to. Family always comes first, cousin," Marcus replied smoothly.
Ashley forced another smile, nodding, but her expression faltered when Marcus reached into his fancy bag and smoothly placed a bottle of Irish wine on her desk.
Taken aback, her gaze flicked from the sleek black bottle to Marcus' unreadable face. Pushing her wariness to the back of her mind, she spoke.
"I… really appreciate your visit..." she said in her usual mask of practiced politeness.
Marcus nodded, lounging in his seat as if he owned the room, his smirk unreadable.
"...but the wine?" Her gaze returned to the bottle sitting proudly on her desk.
A glint flickered in Marcus' gray eyes. "What better way to toast to a long-lost family connection, hm?" He shrugged, his nonchalance only adding to the tension in the room. "And to your new position as CEO of this great firm, of course," he added.
Without warning, he grabbed the wine and popped the cork.
Ashley flinched at the sudden pop, sharp, almost like a gunshot. She watched in stunned silence as a faint wisp of cool air curled from the bottle's mouth, before vanishing–a clear sign that the wine was still chilled.
Marcus, clearly amused, chuckled at her reaction. "Please tell me you've got some glasses lying around," he said, grinning like someone eager to toast a long-lost friendship.