Elijah's POV
The morning sunlight stretched across the marble floor of the Ashford mansion, touching every corner except the one Elijah stood in. The house was too quiet—eerily so. It had been that way since the day Starling drove him and Ivy out of her studio.
Weeks had passed, and not a single word had been exchanged between him and Starling. He told himself it was for the best, that space would give her time to breathe. But deep down, he knew he was lying to himself. The silence was punishment—one he couldn't escape.
He was halfway through his coffee when the echo of clicking heels cut through the calm. Familiar. Sharp. Deliberate.
Then came a voice he hadn't heard in months.
"Elijah, darling! You didn't even come to greet me?"
He turned, almost spilling the mug. There she was Clara Ashford, his father's wife, radiant as ever, wrapped in cream silk and perfume that filled the room before she did.
"Clara?" he muttered, setting his cup down. "You're… back?"
She smiled, her lips painted the same shade of red he remembered. "Back and exhausted. Country X was colder than I thought, and the people even colder." She sighed dramatically before gliding toward him. "I came home early. Isn't that wonderful news?"
Elijah frowned. "Wonderful? You didn't even tell Dad."
"Oh, he'll survive a little surprise." She waved a manicured hand, pretending innocence. "Besides, a wife can't stay away forever, can she?"
Elijah studied her carefully. She looked exactly the same—perfect, polished, and unreadable. But her sudden return didn't sit right. Clara never did anything without purpose.
"You came back earlier than planned," he said. "Why?"
Clara chuckled, picking up an apple from the fruit bowl. "You've grown even more suspicious, just like your father. Must everything I do have a reason?"
"With you? Always," Elijah replied, his tone calm but firm.
She bit into the apple delicately, her gaze never leaving him. "Maybe I just missed my family."
He didn't answer. Family. She always used that word like it meant something sweet when in truth, every syllable from her mouth carried strategy.
"Or," she said after a beat, "maybe I came back because things here are getting… interesting."
Elijah's chest tightened. "What things?"
"Oh, Elijah," she said with a soft laugh. "You really don't know how to hide your affairs, do you? People talk, you know. Especially about that girl—what's her name again? Ivy?"
He clenched his jaw. "You should mind your own business."
"Oh, but your business is my business," Clara said smoothly, walking closer until her perfume clouded the space between them. "That girl has ambition written all over her. Dangerous kind. You remind me of your father always letting emotions cloud your judgment."
He met her gaze. "And you remind me of why I stopped trusting anyone in this house."
For a second, something flashed in her eyes something cold. Then she smiled again, softer this time. "You've changed, Elijah. I almost like it."
Before he could reply, his father's voice echoed faintly from upstairs, calling her name. Clara turned toward the staircase, pausing only to throw him a knowing glance.
"Try to stay out of trouble," she said. "The family doesn't need another scandal."
And with that, she was gone—heels clicking against marble, perfume lingering like smoke after fire.
Elijah stood there, unmoving. Her timing wasn't coincidence. She had come back for a reason, and whatever it was, it wasn't good.
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Country X," he muttered under his breath. "Right. You never left without a plan, did you, Clara?"
Something was coming. He could feel it.
Clara's laughter echoed faintly down the hallway as Elijah stayed behind, watching her disappear up the grand staircase. He knew better than to follow. Clara never walked into a room without knowing exactly how she wanted to leave it.
Moments later, he heard her voice again this time softer, sweeter—the kind of tone she used when she wanted something.
"Darling, you didn't even come down to greet me?"
Elijah's father, Richard Ashford, appeared from his study, surprise flickering across his usually stern face. "Clara?"
She smiled like a woman who'd just returned from paradise. "Yes, it's me. Back earlier than expected. I missed home."
Richard hesitated before pulling her into a polite hug. "You could've called. I thought you'd be in Country X until next month."
Clara waved a delicate hand. "Oh, nonsense. What's a few weeks? I needed to see my boys. It feels like ages since we were all together."
She sat gracefully on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. Her eyes wandered around the living room—family portraits, the faint smell of fresh coffee, and the emptiness that hung heavier than before.
"When is this family ever going to feel complete again?" she asked suddenly, her tone light but deliberate. "It's just been… so divided lately."
Richard looked up from his cup, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, come now," Clara said, her voice dripping with charm. "You have four wonderful boys—Elijah, Matthew, Liam, and sweet little Ray. But do they ever even sit in the same room anymore?" She sighed dramatically. "It breaks my heart."
Richard exhaled slowly. "They're grown, Clara. Everyone's busy. Elijah's been distant lately, and Matthew's still working abroad. Liam and Ray are just boys—they'll understand when they're older."
Clara tilted her head, studying him carefully. "Busy… or avoiding something?"
He frowned. "What are you implying?"
"Nothing at all," she said quickly, smiling. "Just a mother's observation. Elijah seems troubled. He looks… haunted, almost. I just wonder if something—or someone—is distracting him."
Richard's expression hardened slightly. "Elijah's fine. Don't start again."
Clara chuckled softly. "I wouldn't dream of it, darling." She reached across the table to touch his hand, her wedding ring glinting under the morning light. "I only want the family whole again. You, me, and all our boys under one roof."
Her voice softened, dripping with sincerity—so much that even Richard seemed to ease slightly. "I'll talk to them," he said quietly.
Clara smiled, victory flickering briefly in her eyes before she hid it behind her lashes. "That's all I wanted to hear."
As she leaned back, she glanced toward the hallway where Elijah had been standing moments before. Her smile deepened faintly—mischievous, knowing.
"We'll be one big happy family again," she whispered to herself.
...................
(Clara's Private Scene)
The moment Richard's footsteps faded down the hall, Clara's smile vanished. The warmth drained from her face, replaced by a sharp, calculating calm.
She waited until the echo of the study door clicked shut before standing, smoothing the folds of her silk blouse. With deliberate grace, she reached for her phone from the table beside her handbag—its gold casing glinting in the soft morning light.
She dialed a number from memory. No hesitation. No speed dial. Just muscle memory and control.
The line rang once before a low, feminine voice answered.
"You're early," the voice said.
Clara smirked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she paced toward the window overlooking the garden. "You sound surprised."
"Country X wasn't supposed to release you until next month," the voice replied coolly. "Does Richard know why you're really back?"
Clara laughed quietly, tapping her nails against the glass. "Of course not. Richard doesn't know anything he shouldn't. He's still convinced I came home because I missed the boys."
"And Elijah?"
That name made her pause—just for a heartbeat. She turned away from the window, her expression tightening. "Elijah will be taken care of. He's… distracted. Emotional. Someone's been stirring old ghosts."
"You mean Starling," the voice said, with quiet amusement.
Clara's jaw clenched. "Yes. That girl has a way of reappearing whenever things begin to settle. I thought she was gone for good."
"You should've made sure of it," the voice replied.
Clara's eyes darkened, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't question me. I did what I had to. But things have changed now. If she's back, I'll need a different approach."
"And Ivy?"
Clara's smirk returned, faint but dangerous. "Ivy's impulsive—but useful. As long as she keeps playing her part, she'll be fine. If she doesn't…"
"You'll handle it," the voice finished smoothly.
"Exactly."
Silence lingered for a few moments, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioner and the rhythmic click of Clara's heels against the marble floor.
Finally, the voice on the other end spoke again, tone lower this time.
"Make sure no one connects you to the first incident."
Clara's gaze flicked toward a framed photo of the family on the mantel—Elijah smiling, Starling beside him in an old photo she hadn't realized Richard kept. Her jaw tightened.
"They won't," she said. "I've covered every trace. By the time they suspect anything, it'll already be too late."
She ended the call, her reflection faintly visible in the window—poised, flawless, unbothered. Then she whispered to herself, almost tenderly:
"Welcome home, Clara."
And with that, she smiled—a cold, dangerous smile that didn't reach her eyes.