Chapter 30: The Duty Of The Heir (Book 3): Chapter 30

Spring City

I step into the kitchen and immediately sense it.

The tension, the concern. My mom and Aunt Geneva are waiting for me, their eyes giving away what their words don’t. They know. I’m heading back to Wesbury, back to all the chaos and unresolved feelings.

Geneva breaks the silence first. ‘You heading straight to the cafe?’

‘No,’ I say quickly.

Mom’s eyes are on me, probing, worried. ‘Going home then?’

I nod. ‘Yeah.’

She lets out a sigh, a mix of relief and something else. ‘Good.’

Then my aunt, with that no-nonsense tone she always uses when she’s worried, cuts in. ‘You need to call him before you get there.’

I frown, defensive. ‘Why should I?’

‘Because he called. And he shouldn’t be left hanging, getting the wrong idea.’

Wrong idea.

I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of their expectations. ‘Fine, but I’m almost home. I’ll talk to him there.’

Geneva insists, gently but firmly. ‘Just call him, Aisling. Let him know you’re on your way.’

Reluctantly, I pick up the phone and dial Duke’s number. He answers quickly, his voice instantly filling the room.

‘Hey, honey?’

‘Hey…’ I reply, hesitating, unsure.

‘Everything okay?’ He’s quick to sense my discomfort.

‘Yeah. Why do you ask?’

‘You just sound… different.’

I force a smile. ‘I’m good. You?’

‘I’m alright. Was gonna stop by your place on my way to tennis.’

I sniffle, trying to mask my emotions. ‘You don’t need to. I’m fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah,’ I say, softer this time.

‘Okay. I love you, Aisling. See you later.’

The words are harder to return than they should be. ‘I…love you too.’

The moment I hang up, my mother is right there, concern written all over her face. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah,’ I lie.

Geneva shakes her head, seeing right through me. ‘No, you’re not.’

How could I be?

Geneva’s concern deepens. ‘Can you really go home like this?’

My mother jumps in. ‘We could think of another excuse. Make you stay one more day.’

But I shake my head, feigning confidence. ‘I’ll be fine. Really.’

As I turn to leave, Geneva’s voice follows me, heavy with unsaid fears. ‘Aisling…’

I pause, gathering my strength. ‘I’m okay. I won’t let it go that far.’

Hearts and Mugs Cafe, Wesbury

I end the call from a supplier and just stare out the café office window, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. I can’t believe what’s happening, the reality of it all still feels like a distant nightmare. Then, a soft knock at the door pulls me from my reverie. Kari steps in, her presence both surprising and comforting.

‘Kari, what are you doing here?’ I ask with a mix of surprise and relief.

‘I came to stay with you,’ she says, her voice gentle, soothing.

‘To stay with me? But how did you know I was here?’ I’m bewildered, not sure whether to feel touched or invaded.

‘Your mom told me,’ she admits, and I can see the worry in her eyes, the same worry that’s been mirrored in everyone’s eyes lately.

I can’t help but let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Why is everyone acting like I’m on the brink of something terrible?’

Kari looks at me, her eyes earnest. ‘Aisling, things like this, they can destroy people.’

‘I’m fine, really. It’s not as shocking to me anymore,’ I say, trying to sound more convincing than I feel.

‘Are you sure?’ she asks, and skepticism clear in her voice.

I nod. ‘I’ve been bracing for this. I always had this feeling, this fear that he would do something like this.’

Kari shakes her head, disbelief etched on her face. ‘I never thought it would come to this.’

Right at that moment, my phone rings.

It’s Aunt Geneva calling.

What is she calling me about?

I hesitate for a moment before answering.

‘Hi, Aunty?’ My voice is cautious, unsure.

‘I’ve found out something you should know,’ Geneva says, her tone serious and urgent.

I lean in, curiously. ‘Okay, tell me.’

‘It’s about Simone. She’s the niece of Anne’s close friend, Trina,’ Geneva reveals, and I feel a new wave of emotions crashing over me.

Presley Estates, Wesbury

As the evening deepens at the Chateau, I stand alone in the kitchen, my heart a heavy, tangled mess of shock and betrayal. I’m trying to focus on cooking, but it’s like moving through a fog.

Then, Duke comes home.

‘Hey, honey…’ His voice is warm, so normal, as he steps into the kitchen, completely unaware of the storm raging inside me.

I lift my eyes to meet his, managing a faint smile. ‘You’re back.’

‘Wow. Smells amazing in here. What’s cooking?’ He sniffs the air, his usual cheerfulness untouched by the turmoil in me.

‘Spaghetti and meatballs,’ I answer.

He rubs his stomach, grinning. ‘I’m starving. Feels like I could eat a horse.’

I force another smile, my throat tight. ‘Do you want to eat in here or in the dining room?’

‘Let’s use the dining room. It’s been ages since we ate there,’ he suggests, oblivious to my inner struggle.

I lie, a small twist of pain in my words. ‘I already ate. Couldn’t wait.’

He settles at the kitchen island. ‘I’ll eat here then.’

I serve him, my hands barely trembling, the emotions almost too much to bear.

He brings up a plan, casual. ‘I was thinking we could spend the night at Sandy Breeze.’

I muster a response, keeping my voice light. ‘Oh… another time, maybe.’

Every word, every moment, is a struggle to stay afloat in the sea of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

‘So, what were you up to last night that you forgot to even call?’ he asks.

I pause, a storm of hurt and disbelief whirling inside. ‘Just… having fun,’ I say, the words tasting like ash.

‘Fun?’ he echoes, unintentionally prodding at the tender, bruised parts of my heart.

‘Yeah,’ I manage, a forced smile masking my pain.

‘What kind of fun?’ he presses, his curiosity unintentionally slicing through me.

‘Umm…’ I’m scrambling for words, trying to piece together my shattered heart while keeping up appearances. I let out a strained chuckle, a façade of lightness.

‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’ He looks at me, his gaze piercing into my soul.

‘Ummm…’ I falter, the ache in my heart spilling into my words.

He pauses, studying me. ‘You’re not saying much.’

‘Just forget about it,’ I deflect quickly, desperate to steer away from the hurt lurking in my thoughts.

Then, he glances at the stove. ‘Aisling, I think the sauce is burning.’

‘Oh!’ I rush to the stove, turning it off hastily. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘It’s okay,’ Duke says, his voice kind and forgiving.

‘I’ll find something else for dinner. This is ruined,’ I admit, guilt mingling with my already tumultuous emotions.

‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll eat it anyway.”