As soon as Michelle pulled Ashley away from the uncomfortable presence of her new uncle, she expressed her desire to return home. Michelle nodded in understanding, and Ashley breathed a sigh of relief.
"I'm sorry about what happened with Raphael. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again," Michelle assured her.
Ashley thanked her, though her mind still raced with the weight of Raphael's words.
Outside, the cars were already waiting, but she needed to retrieve her handbag from Lorenzo. She scanned the room once more, searching for him, but he was nowhere in sight.
As if sensing her search, Greg approached, holding out her bag, wearing his usual expression that suggested he was permanently displeased with life.
"Your handbag, ma'am. If you're ready to leave, I can take it to the car," he said in a gruffly tone. If intimidation was a person, it would be Greg. His brown hair and black uniform contrasted sharply against the vibrancy of the room.
Ashley took the bag from him, frowning slightly. "Where did you find this?"
"Mister Grey handed it to me before he left."
She hesitated, debating whether to ask where Lorenzo had gone, but ultimately decided against it. It didn't matter. His presence had already stirred up too many memories, and she was relieved to finally have some distance between them.
After exchanging brief goodbyes with a few acquaintances, she stepped out of the long hall, thankful to have avoided any further encounters with the Harringtons. They had either left after their earlier fight or were now deliberately avoiding her. Whatever the case, Ashley was glad she didn't have to deal with them again.
As she approached the waiting Rolls-Royce, a scene caught her attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Lorenzo engaged in a hushed conversation with four intimidating men dressed in black.
Ashley didn't think he had noticed her, but his immediate dismissal of the men, and his gaze locking onto hers, told her otherwise.
She kept walking, ignoring the way her heart quickened as Lorenzo closed the distance with his long strides, effortlessly matching her shorter ones
"I'm starting to think you're always on the run, sunshine," Lorenzo teased.
Ashley had forgiven him once for that endearment, because of his encouragement before her speech, but now, she had no reason to not scold him. "I thought we both agreed earlier that you'd stop calling me that." She paused, turning to face Lorenzo with a straight face. "And I was walking, not running." she added nonchalantly.
Even now, Lorenzo's chiseled features, piercing gaze, and the slight smirk gracing his lips had the power to weaken her knees, but she was still able to maintain a mean face.
"You were almost running," Lorenzo drawled, ignoring her fierce look. "And I'll consider picking another nickname since "sunshine" makes you want to chop my head off." he added, amusement flickering in his eyes.
At this juncture, Ashley became lost for a suitable comebacks. She realized that Lorenzo was enjoying riling her up, and didn't want to keep giving him the satisfaction.
"Thank you for tonight, Mister Grey," she said, smoothly changing the subject. "And for defending me against the Harringtons—I really appreciate that. But calling me "your woman" wasn't necessary at all."
Lorenzo's gaze darkened, and for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes before vanishing just as quickly. He wondered if he irritated Ashley so much. And since the title Ashley was upset about had been a simple slip of his tongue, it was his turn to struggle for a comeback.
"Can I drop you off?" he asked instead.
A pang of disappointment spread through Ashley. She had wanted him to defend himself, to give her something—anything, to explain why he called her his woman. And what frustrated her more was the fact that she expected him to have a reason.
"I have a ride waiting." She replied, gesturing toward the shiny silver Rolls-Royce where the chauffeur still stood, holding the door open.
Lorenzo held her gaze, his expression unreadable. He saw the hurt in her eyes everytime their gazes met, and it pierced his heart each time. He told himself calling her "his woman" had been a slip of the tongue, an instinctive reaction in the heat of the moment. But deep down, he knew otherwise. He was just foolishly wishing for something he knew was impossible. Would Ashley ever forgive him, even if everything he did was to protect her?
"Fine then," he nodded, his gaze moving to Ashley's car, and lingering slightly. "But don't forget, you owe me now for the role I played tonight."
Ashley frowned. "What role?"
"Being your plus one."
Before she could respond, a young blonde who appeared to be no older than eighteen approached Lorenzo, phone in hand.
"Mister Grey, the old lady is on the line," he said urgently.
Lorenzo took the phone, pressing it to his ear, his eyes still on Ashley.
"Goodnight, Angel," he whispered before turning away, the boy following closely behind.
Ashley watched him go for a moment, noticing he'd called her Angel instead of "sunshine". She shook her head before slipping into the car.
'The man was impossible'.
As the chauffeur pulled away, her mind replayed the night's events, Raphael's voice sounding the loudest. Somehow, she felt like the old man saw her as nothing more than a threat, and that scared her.
The drive to the Flynn mansion was quiet, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside her.
Upon arriving at the mansion, she stepped out, once again struck by the estate's grandeur. No matter how many times she saw it, she doubted she would ever get used to such luxury.
The nighttime illumination only heightened the mansion's beauty, casting a beautiful glow over the meticulously manicured lawns and sprawling gardens. Towering oaks and swaying palm trees stood tall, their green leaves looking almost ethereal under the moonlight.
Clutching her handbag, she approached the house, its sleek, cream-colored architecture a masterpiece of modern design. Christian's house had been impressive, but it paled in comparison to this.
As Ashley touched the sliding glass door, it vanished seamlessly into the walls, revealing the breathtaking living room, large enough to host a wedding reception.
"Welcome, ma'am," a maid greeted her. Ashley recognized her from the previous night. "Would you like dinner in your room, or...?"
"No, I'm okay, thank you." Ashley replied with a small smile. "What's your name?"
"Madison."
The name hit Ashley like a wave, causing her muscles to slightly stiffen. It was the same as Maddy's.
"Beautiful name," she later managed, pushing past the ache in her chest.
As Madison left, Ashley's gaze drifted to the grand staircase curving elegantly to the next floor, where her room awaited. But just before she could head towards the stairs, a photograph, among the several others hanging on the cream colored walls, caught her attention. She walked to take a look.
Since Ashley had barely stepped out of her room since her arrival a week ago, it was her first time noticing the large family portrait hanging proudly in the living room.
Her breath stopped once her gaze moved from her smiling grandparents, sitting on a plush velvet royal chair, and settled on her dad's face. He looked younger, full of life—almost the same smile from the last time she'd seen him.
She felt her eyes water as she slowly reached out, her fingers ghosting over the frame, as though touching it could somehow bring him back. A lump formed in her throat, and for a moment, she let herself be fifteen again, the girl who still had a father, a family, a home.
A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. He had always told her that family was everything. But yet, he never mentioned being kicked out by his own father.
A deep sigh escaped her lips, heavy with emotions she had no strength to unpack. But then, her eyes shifted to the man opposite her dad, with hand resting on Michelle's back.
Her brows furrowed slightly, as she studied him. The resemblance was undeniable–the sharp jawline, the high cheekbones, the soft smile, even the way he carried himself. It was almost as though she was looking at a second version of her father.
She was so lost in the moment that she didn't notice the front door slide open, and Michelle approaching, until her voice broke through Ashley's thoughts.
"That's Jason." Ashley turned sharply, startled. There was a slight pause before Michelle softly added, "...your dad's brother." answering one of Ashley's unspoken questions. Michelle's eyes briefly lingered on the photo, flashing with an emotion that Ashley would've caught if she weren't too distracted by the sudden revelation.