Chapter 36: The Duty Of The Heir (Book 3): Chapter 36

Presley Estates, Wesbury

As the door shuts behind me, a sense of unease immediately prickles my skin. My own home, usually a safe place, feels foreign. My heels click against the marble floor, a soundtrack to my growing apprehension.

On the phone, my aunt’s voice chatters away, but her words barely penetrate my consciousness. ‘Anne, darling, are you even listening? I was saying, maybe Aisling is just going through a phase.’

‘I just had this gut feeling he’d bail,’ I tell her, my voice laced with frustration. ‘And now, he’s not answering his phone. I even called The Chateau, and it’s like everyone’s vanished. Tara’s always there, but today, silence. But I doubt it’s Aisling’s doing. He’s just being paranoid. How would Aisling even find out?’ The words tumble out, a mix of concern and confusion swirling in my head.

I round the corner into the kitchen, thoughts of Duke’s odd behavior swirling. ‘Honestly, Aunt, I’m not so sure. Duke’s been…different.’

She hums thoughtfully. ‘They’ve been together for years. Maybe it’s just a rough patch?’

But I can’t shake the nagging feeling. My gaze drifts to the kitchen counter and lands on a plate filled with peculiar cookies shaped like little devils. They seem so out of place in my orderly kitchen. ‘Hold on a minute,’ I mutter to my aunt, signaling to Emerald, my housekeeper, who’s diligently scrubbing a pot.

Emerald looks up, her brows knit in mild concern. ‘Yes, Ms. Anne?’

‘These cookies,’ I point, trying to keep my voice steady, ‘where did they come from?’

Emerald hesitates just a fraction too long. ‘They were a delivery this morning. From Mrs. Aisling.’

A cold shiver races down my spine, a thousand thoughts crashing together. ‘Thank you, Emerald,’ I manage, pressing the phone closer to my ear.

‘Anne? What’s wrong?’ My aunt’s voice, tinged with worry, breaks through.

I draw in a shaky breath. ‘I think there’s more to this story than we know.’

The peculiar gesture from Aisling, the strange cookies, feels like a coded message. But what? The realization that the dynamics within our family are more complex than I ever imagined begins to settle in, and I’m left grappling with its weight.

As the day wears on, this restless need for answers gnaws at me. I find myself reaching for the phone, dialing Duke’s number. He’s on his way back from church, and when he answers, I can hear the strain in his voice, a tension that’s almost palpable.

‘Are you really halting everything?’ I ask, my confusion clear in my tone.

‘Yes,’ he responds, his voice steady, leaving no room for doubt.

‘But why, Duke? What’s suddenly changed?’ I press, trying to wrap my head around his abrupt decision.

‘It’s personal,’ he says, a veil of secrecy in his words.

I can’t hide my disbelief. ‘You can’t be serious. After all this?’

‘I’m not joking, Mom. I just can’t go through with it,’ he states, his resolve evident in his voice.

I’m at a loss for words, ‘Duke…’

‘I mean it,’ he reiterates.

‘Is this about Aisling?’ I venture, suspecting there’s more to this.

‘Yeah, partly,’ he admits, though it’s clear he’s reluctant to divulge too much.

‘Does she know something?’ I need to understand the full picture.

‘I’m not sure. She’s been acting differently. I think she might suspect something,’ he explains, worry creeping into his voice.

I sigh deeply, trying to offer some kind of comfort. ‘Duke, it could be anything. I mean, she could just be having one of those days, right? Hormonal changes and all.’

He pauses, and I can almost visualize him running a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration I’ve witnessed countless times. ‘It’s not just that. Her every look, every gesture… they all scream that she’s onto us. I know Aisling. This isn’t just mood swings or hormones’

‘But how would she find out? We’ve kept this so private,’ I argue, hoping to convince him.

He is silent.

I lean against my window sill, the view outside blurring as I digest the gravity of his words. ‘There has to be another explanation. Maybe she’s just overwhelmed or stressed about something else.’

‘No, Mom,’ he counters, his voice laden with conviction. ‘I’ve seen the way she looks at me, the questions she leaves unasked. She knows something.’

“We shouldn’t stop.”

‘I’m done,’ he declares, shutting down the conversation.

‘Duke, you can’t just leave Simone hanging. She’s invested so much in this,’ I plead, desperation creeping into my voice.

‘I’ll compensate her,’ he says, but it sounds hollow.

‘Duke, reconsider. It’s only until Thursday, and then it’s all over,’ I try to persuade him, clinging to hope.

But he’s unwavering. ‘My mind’s made up, Mom.’ The finality in his voice is like a door slamming shut, leaving me with a sinking feeling and a host of unanswered questions.

Trina, my steadfast confidant, sits across from me, her gaze sharp and curious. I hesitate before showing her the devil-shaped cookies, their dark forms silently hinting at a narrative I’m yet to fully understand.

‘She sent these,’ I state, gesturing to the cookies.

Her eyebrows shoot up, her fingers skimming over the meticulously crafted pastries. ‘Aisling sent these?’

I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. ‘There’s a message here, and I don’t like what it insinuates. ‘I’m freaking out, Trina.’

A worried crease forms on her forehead. ‘Do you think she’s trying to tell us she’s onto us? That she knows… everything?’

The chill in the room is undeniable, no longer just a product of the air conditioning. ‘She must have a reason to send these, specifically to me. And I dread to think what that might be.’

Trina glances at the cookies again, a fleeting look of fear crossing her eyes. ‘Do you think I’ll be next?’

I can sense her nervous energy. The unsaid words, the unspoken understanding between us, make the atmosphere thick and stifling. ‘Trina, whatever happens, we need to stick together and figure this out.’

She nods, drawing a shaky breath. ‘It’s just… why these cookies? Why now?’

I pause, searching for the right words. ‘Maybe she wants us to come forward. Maybe she’s giving us a chance to own up before things spiral.’

Trina’s fingers twitch, a silent indication of her unease. ‘What are we going to do, Anne?’

I stand, staring at the distant horizon outside, a world oblivious to our shared apprehension. ‘We find out what she knows. And then, we decide our next steps.’

Our silent pact made, we’re determined to uncover Aisling’s game, hoping to confront the mystery that threatens to unravel everything.