Chapter 67
Aurora’s POV
Mrs. Ashford’s eyes widen, and she stares at me for a moment. She blinks, takes a sip of her coffee, and the stares. It's the most flustered she's been since she arrived unlike me who is sweating and shaking.
I continue to explain, “Ever since my mom told me about the ring, I've been looking for it to see if I can find in my real family. I don't know why your ring was with me, especially since I'm human, but any information would be helpful.”
Mrs. Ashford’s eyes roamed me again, and again they land on my hair. I'm used to it because silver hair on someone who's in their twenties isn't exactly normal. And this isn't the kind of silver that comes with age or box dye.
The stairs used to bother me, but after years of people watching me and looking at me like I'm a freak, I got used to it.
“Do you dye your hair?” She asks, her tone curious and suspicious at the same time. I don't like the suspicion in her tone, but I ignore it. She has the right to feel whatever she wants and I have to remember that, especially since we know nothing about each other, and this meeting is anything but normal.
No, it is an odd question to ask since it's so off topic from what we are currently discussing. Still, I answer, “No, my hair has always been this color. My mother has told me she thought it was strange when my hair turned from white-blonde to silver when I was a baby.”
Mrs. Ashford watches me curiously before speaking, “I married into the Ashford family from one of the other Lycan families, which is why I do not share the trademark Ashford silver hair.”
I paused at her words. Did she just say...
“What do you mean trademark silver hair?” I ask. There's no way other people have silver hair like I do, not naturally anyways.
“I don't know of my brother ever having a human child but you do share a resemblance with the family.”
This is crazy. Is she crazy? How in the world could I share resemblance to the family that is directly descended from people who are basically werewolf royalty?
There has to be something else to this I'm human. My whole life proves that. I've never changed into an animal, I heal just as slow as other people, and werewolves have made fun of me for being human my entire life.
“I-I’m not a were-Lycan, Mrs. Ashford and like I said, I’m human,” I stutter, becoming more and more confused as she continues to watch me. It's like she's searching for something, kind of like how I'm searching for something. However, what she's searching for, she won't find in me.
Mrs. Ashford sets her coffee down and pulls her phone out of her pocket, lifting it to where I can see, “May I take your picture?”
“What for?” I ask, now even more confused.
“I'd like to send it to some of my contacts to see if they recognize you,” she answers. There's no faltering in her voice, and no hesitation. What does she think that they'll find? Do lichens have some sort of database that they could look into and find out about anyone? I mean she can't truly think I am from the Ashford family, right?
However, instead of denying her request, I answer, “I guess, but I think there's been a mistake.”
The high status like in woman then opens her phone and points it at me. The sound of the camera clicking is loud in the quiet shop. This is a strange, unexpected, turn of events, and I want to know what's going on.
“You're right,” she says. “But I'm intrigued. I also would like to know what's going on, but I'm willing to let you leave, young lady. I'll be in touch.”
I watch as Mrs. Ashford gathers her things, leaving me with more questions swirling around in my mind than I had when I got here. If my nerves were at level ten when I arrived, now they're at a fifteen.
What the heck just happened? There's no way I'm a Lycan or a werewolf, but maybe this woman can use her status to help me figure out who I am and where I come from. At the very least, Mrs. Ashford might be able to figure out why the ring was with me when I was abandoned.
Thorne is with Angeline again. They're chatting in his office, a little too close for my liking. It seems like they've grown closer over the weekend.
Honestly, they look so comfortable talking together that they look like they never broke up, and it bothers me. A lot. More than it should OK they're so comfortable that it makes me uncomfortable. Like how Angeline leans over and lays her head on thorns shoulder as she twirls a stupid piece of blonde hair between her fingers.
It makes me want to go in there and rip that pretty blonde hair out of her head.
And now I'm the crazy one.
I feel like I haven't spent any time with Thorne in several days now because of Angeline. He hasn't come to the house, he barely talks to me when we work, we don't eat lunch together anymore, and every time I try to talk with him Angeline seems to be there.
Each time I go into his office to speak with him about work, she gives me this little smirk that tells me, “I won. He's mine.”
The only things he talks to me about now are my daily tasks in the mornings. Just an hour ago I cut my hand on a broken glass, but Thorne was too busy talking with Angeline to notice.
Just last week, he would’ve jumped up and rushed to help me clean the wound or even just to ask if I was alright. It feels like so much has changed in such a small amount of time. I can't help but think about how caring and attentive he was, which is completely the opposite of how he's acting now.
Is this how he acted before? Is he bored with me?
In the beginning of our contract, I had hoped he would grow bored of me soon, but now, it hurts. Thinking that he may be ready to move on hurts. My chest tightens at the thought as I peer through the window of his office and watch Angeline wrap her arms around Thorne's arm and lean in close.
Please push her away.
Tell her you don't want her near.
Make her go away.
Send her back to wherever she came from.
I want to scream at the top of my lungs, but I can't. The man who used to keep his distance from other women no longer minded that Angeline is glued to his side. I want to ask where that man is. I need to know where he went so I can pull him back.
Where is the Thorne that I've grown so fond of?
Because he's not the man I see in that office. He's not a man who's going to let women hang all over him like that.
Sighing, I try to focus on my work, trudging through it like a robot who is slowly running out of battery.
