Rebecca went still the moment I finished speaking.
It was brief, almost unnoticeable, but I caught it. The flicker in her eyes. The way her fingers tightened before she quickly smoothed everything over. Then she turned to Ashton, her hand sliding onto his sleeve like it had always belonged there.
"Ash…" Her voice softened, careful and light. "I was out of line last night. I didn't mean to disturb you… or Scarlett." She hesitated, then looked at him with those gentle eyes of hers. "Can you ask her to stay and have breakfast with us? Just take it as my apology, please?"
I almost let out a laugh.
Some people didn't have to fight for a place. They didn't have to earn it. All they had to do was lower their voice, look a little fragile, and suddenly everything shifted in their favor.
Even someone like Ashton.
He hadn't spared me a single glance before she spoke. Not one. It was like I wasn't even there, like I didn't belong in his space, in his territory.
But the moment Rebecca spoke, his attention moved.
And it landed on me.
That alone made my chest tighten.
"Stay. Eat with us."
His voice was low. Firm. Leaving no room for refusal.
It wasn't an invitation. It was instinctive. Natural. Like he was used to being obeyed.
And the worst part?
Something inside me responded to it.
That quiet pull in my chest tightened, warm and dangerous. It always did when it came to him. No matter how much I tried to ignore it, my body remembered him… recognized him.
Did it hurt?
Maybe before.
Now, it just felt… distant. Like pain I had learned to live with.
I forced a smile and nodded. "Thank you."
Because no matter how much I told myself I should walk away, I never could.
From the first moment I saw Ashton Fuller, something in me had already chosen him. It wasn't just liking him. It wasn't even love, not at the beginning.
It was deeper.
Like a silent mark carved into me without my permission.
And no matter how much time passed, it refused to fade.
I took my seat at the table, trying to steady myself. The air felt different here—thick, controlled, like everything revolved around him without anyone needing to say it out loud.
Breakfast was simple.
Fried eggs. Bacon. Toast.
Nothing special.
And yet, it felt… strange.
Because Ashton made it.
I glanced at him without meaning to. His sleeves were slightly rolled up, his movements calm and precise. Even something as ordinary as cooking looked different when he did it. There was a quiet authority in everything he touched.
Men like him weren't supposed to do things like this.
They didn't need to.
And yet, here he was.
"Scarlett, try this."
Rebecca's voice pulled me back.
She leaned over, placing a fried egg on my plate with a soft smile. Too soft. Too practiced.
"Ash makes them really well," she said lightly. "When we were together, he used to make this for me all the time."
When we were together.
The words settled heavily in the air.
I kept my face calm, even as something inside me twisted. I picked up my fork and took a bite, chewing slowly.
It tasted normal.
But for some reason, it stayed with me longer than it should have.
"Here, Ash." Rebecca placed food on his plate next, her movements natural, like she had done it countless times before.
Then she looked at him again, her voice soft, almost playful. "You promised to take me to see the flowers today. You won't go back on your word, right?"
I didn't look up.
I didn't need to.
I already knew how this would go.
"Mm."
That was all he said.
Short. Simple.
But enough.
Ashton wasn't someone who wasted words. He barely responded to anyone unless it mattered to him.
But with her… he always answered.
Always.
I lowered my gaze, focusing on my plate, even though my appetite was slowly disappearing. That quiet tension in my chest grew heavier, pressing against something I didn't want to name.
It wasn't anger.
It wasn't jealousy.
It was something deeper. Something instinctive. A silent rejection my body didn't know how to process.
Across the table, Jared ate calmly, like none of this was new to him. His movements were smooth, his expression unreadable. If anything, he looked like a spectator watching something he had already seen too many times.
Detached.
Uninvolved.
I wondered if I looked the same.
If anyone could tell how hard I was trying to stay still… to keep everything inside from spilling out.
I took another bite, forcing myself to swallow.
Everything was fine.
That's what I told myself.
Over and over again.
Even as that quiet, stubborn part of me refused to listen—
Refused to stop reaching for the one man who had never truly chosen me.
I lowered my gaze, my brows pulling together as the thought hit me again.
Today.
Today was Grandpa's funeral.
My chest tightened. If Ashton left with Rebecca… then what about the plan? What about going back to the Fuller estate together, standing there as we were supposed to?
The bond between us stirred uneasily, like something restless under my skin.
Nothing felt right.
The dining table fell into an awkward silence. No one really ate. Even the air felt heavy, like it was pressing down on all of us. After a few bites, Ashton stood up without a word and headed upstairs.
I didn't hesitate.
I placed my cutlery down and followed him.
Each step I took felt heavier than the last.
In the bedroom, he didn't even turn around, but I knew he had sensed me the moment I stepped in. Of course he did. He always knew where I was. That silent awareness between us… it never really disappeared.
"Do you need something?" he asked, his tone flat, distant.
Like I was just another person.
Not someone tied to him.
Before I could answer, he started taking off his clothes, completely unbothered by my presence. His back faced me, broad and solid, carrying that quiet strength that always made people instinctively submit.
My heart skipped, and I quickly turned around, facing the other direction.
"Grandpa's funeral is today," I said, my voice coming out tighter than I wanted.
Behind me, I heard the soft rustle of fabric, the sound of a zipper sliding into place. Then his voice came again, calm and emotionless.
"You can go yourself."
My fingers curled slightly at my sides.
I turned around slowly, my frown deepening. "He is your grandfather, Ashton."
The words came out heavier than I intended.
He was the eldest grandson. The one everyone looked to. His absence wouldn't just be noticed—it would be questioned.
It would mean something.
"I've already asked Joseph Campbell to handle it," he replied, like he was discussing something trivial. "You can speak to him if there are any details."
Just like that.
No hesitation. No emotion.
As if it had nothing to do with him.
He walked past me, heading toward his study, like the conversation was already over.
Something inside me snapped.
That quiet, suppressed feeling finally pushed its way out.
"Ashton," I called after him, my voice rising before I could stop it. "Is everyone except Rebecca replaceable to you? Does your family mean nothing?"
The moment the words left my mouth, the air shifted.
He stopped.
Slowly, he turned back to look at me.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and that familiar cold pressure filled the room, wrapping around me like an invisible weight. It pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
"You're not in a position to question how I handle my family," he said, each word sharp and controlled.
Then, after a brief pause, his lips curved faintly.
Not a smile.
Something colder.
"You're not worthy."
The words hit me hard.
Like ice poured straight into my veins.
For a second, I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. All I could do was stand there, feeling that chill spread through me, sinking deeper than I wanted to admit.
Then he turned and left.
His footsteps faded down the hallway, steady and unhurried.
Like none of this mattered.
A dry laugh slipped out of my lips.
Unworthy.
That's what I was to him.
After everything.
Two years.
Two whole years of staying by his side, of trying, of hoping that one day he would look at me differently.
And yet… nothing had changed.
Not even a little.
The bond inside me felt quiet now. Not gone. Just… still. Like it had given up trying to fight.
"I always thought you were just shameless," a voice said from the doorway, cutting through the silence. "But I didn't expect you to be this nosy too."
I turned.
Rebecca stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed. The softness from earlier was gone. Completely gone.
Her expression was cold now. Sharp.
Like this was the real her.
Not the gentle, fragile woman she showed Ashton.
Her eyes met mine, and this time, there was no effort to hide what she felt.
Only mockery.
And something darker underneath.