Chapter 73

The view from Ashleigh's window should have been calming, even breathtaking. The sprawling gardens of the Cagliari mansion were meticulously maintained, with vibrant blossoms swaying in the gentle afternoon breeze and perfectly trimmed hedges lining the walkways like green soldiers at attention. Beyond them, the ornate fountains shimmered in the sunlight, their cascading water catching the golden light. It was a postcard-perfect scene. Yet, to Ashleigh, it was all a cruel reminder of her confinement. The beauty outside was unreachable, as always at the Cagliari mansion. She sat curled on the window sill, her knees drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them as if to keep herself from unraveling. The afternoon sun warmed her skin, but it did nothing to thaw the cold ache that had settled deep in her chest. Her eyes flicked to her phone lying on the small table beside her. The messages on her department's group chat haunted her. Each text, each comment had felt like a blow she couldn't dodge. No matter how much she tried to suppress them, they lingered in the background of her thoughts, dark and threatening. She clenched her jaw, frustration building as she struggled to form a coherent defense. The truth was, she couldn't. The night of the Robinette Bash was a blur of fear and chaos. She couldn't remember the details, and each time she tried, it was as if her mind hit a brick wall. The fragmented memories tormented her. She couldn't figure out what was real and what had been twisted by others to frame her.   And then there was Arthur. She hadn't texted him back since that day at the hospital. He had been the only one at school who seemed to genuinely care for her, but she had pushed him away too. Maybe he had given up on her, just as she had given up on herself.   A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.   'What is it?" she called, not bothering to mask the irritation in her voice.   'Madame," came Susan's gentle voice, 'do you want to take a walk? Your therapist said it might help you relax."  Ashleigh rolled her eyes. The therapist. Another one of Adrian's overreaching efforts to 'fix" her. He seemed to think she was a project, like his many contracts, something broken that could be mended with the right strategies. She hadn't asked for his help, nor did she want it. What she needed wasn't a walk or a therapist. She needed freedom—freedom from this house, from this life, from Adrian. But she was trapped in her gilded cage, just as much a prisoner as she had been in her marriage. 'Susan, I've already told you, I'm not interested," she snapped. There was a pause, then Susan's hesitant reply. 'But Mr. Cagliari said it was important. He insists you come downstairs." Ashleigh huffed in frustration. Of course, Adrian insisted. He always insisted. She could ignore Susan, but Adrian was relentless when he wanted something. She sighed, slipping on her slippers and stepping away from the window. For the first time since her return, she stepped out of her room. The simple act felt strange, as if she were emerging from a cocoon she hadn't realized she had woven around herself. As Susan guided her down the grand hallways, Ashleigh noticed how the staff's eyes widened in surprise. Their greetings were overly eager, their smiles stretching a bit too far, as though they were relieved she had finally left her room. But their eyes—those curious, prying eyes—followed her every step. And for the first time, she kept her head down, mumbling responses, the weight of their stares prickling her skin. They passed through the main hall, and descended down the stairs where Mr. Turner stood engaged in conversation with Chef Larry. The moment Larry spotted her, his expression shifted. His ever-present grin widened as he stepped forward with that familiar ease. 'Mrs. Cagliari," he greeted warmly, though there was something sharp beneath the surface. 'It's been far too long." Ashleigh offered a polite smile, though her discomfort grew as he approached. Larry had always been too observant, too intrusive. There was something unsettling about the way his eyes seemed to see more than they should. 'Hi, Larry," she said quietly. 'I just needed some time to myself." Larry's gaze swept over her, lingering a second too long on her pale complexion and tired eyes. 'Keeping to yourself, huh?" His voice was laced with mock concern. 'It looks like more than that. College didn't seem to treat you well. Are you feeling better now?" Ashleigh stiffened, taking a small step back. His words felt like needles beneath her skin, each one pressing into a wound she didn't want exposed. She had worked hard to keep what happened at Robin College away from the mansion, and Larry had no right to pry. 'I'm fine," she said firmly. 'Thanks for your concern." Larry's grin widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. 'Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me." Before she could respond, Mr. Turner stepped forward, gesturing for her to follow him. Ashleigh gladly seized the opportunity to escape Larry's probing presence. They walked further down out of the house and until they reached the hall where she had karaoke last time. The large double doors were open, revealing a sight that made Ashleigh stop dead in her tracks. The room had been transformed. Soft picnic-themed decorations adorned the walls. Blankets and cushions were arranged in the center, and at the heart of it all, surrounded by the warm glow of sunlight streaming through the windows, sat her aunt, Mrs. Smith. Her aunt's eyes brightened the moment she saw Ashleigh. 'Ashleigh, my dear!" she called, standing to her feet, her arms outstretched. Ashleigh froze. She hadn't expected this. The weight of everything—the accusations, the shame, the isolation—rushed to the surface. Before she knew it, she was moving, rushing forward and falling into her aunt's arms. Mrs. Smith caught her, steadying her as Ashleigh clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder.   'It's okay, dear," Mrs. Smith whispered, rubbing soothing circles on Ashleigh's back. 'Everything is going to be okay."   Ashleigh could feel her aunt's warmth, the reassurance in her voice easing the tight knot in her chest. For the first time in a long while, she felt safe.   Unknown to Ashleigh, Mrs. Smith's eyes flicked to a hidden camera in the room, where Adrian watched from his office. Mrs. Smith's gaze lingered for a moment before turning her attention back to her niece. When Ashleigh finally pulled back, wiping at her tear-streaked face, she looked around to ensure they were alone. Mr. Turner and Susan had left, giving her the privacy she needed. Mrs. Smith cupped her face gently, inspecting her with concern. 'Ashleigh, my dream girl, you look so tired." Her thumb brushed against Ashleigh's cheek, tracing the dark circles under her eyes. 'You've lost so much weight. What happened to the stubborn girl I know?"   Ashleigh managed a weak smile, though her voice wavered. 'Aunt, are you calling me stubborn?"   'Yes," Mrs. Smith said firmly, though her eyes softened. 'The Ashleigh I know would never let herself be pushed down without a fight. Adrian told me you haven't argued with him once since you came back. You didn't even confront him about bringing you home. That's not like you."  Ashleigh's cheeks flushed slightly. She hadn't realized how much she had changed—how much she had let go of that fiery part of herself. 'Maybe I've been stubborn for too long," she whispered. 'And look where it got me... in a place I can't get out of."   They sat quietly for a moment before Susan returned, bringing in light snacks and drinks. Mrs. Smith had fruit wine, while Ashleigh was served a smoothie blend recommended by the doctor. As they ate in silence, Mrs. Smith studied her niece, waiting until Ashleigh had taken a few bites before speaking again.   'How was Robin College? Was it everything you dreamed of?" Ashleigh hesitated. The question opened a Pandora's box she wasn't sure she was ready to face. But her aunt's gentle concern was like a key turning in a lock, and suddenly the words came pouring out.  She told her everything—about her classes, her friends, and even her rivalry with Alana. The story flowed out of her, each word dredging up emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel. By the time she got to the fake stalker incident and the blog post, tears streamed down her face again. Her voice cracked as she recalled the humiliation, the fear, and the helplessness. Mrs. Smith listened, tears in her own eyes as she held Ashleigh's hand. 'Oh, my dear," she whispered, her heart breaking for her niece.   In his office, Adrian sat in front of the screen, his eyes glued to the scene. Mr. Turner stood beside him, tablet in hand, ready to jot down every detail.   'The therapist's suggestion worked," Adrian thought grimly. He recalled their earlier conversation: 'Sir," the therapist had said, 'your wife may have retreated into herself because she no longer feels safe. A strong, positive figure from her life could help her open up."   And now, watching Ashleigh find solace in her aunt, Adrian's chest tightened.  Turner nodded at his boss's words, shifting slightly. 'Sir, should I proceed with the investigation updates?"   Adrian's eyes remained fixed on the screen. 'Go ahead."   'They've traced the payment to an anonymous account," Turner explained. 'The blog post was paid for a 24-hour circulation. We're close to identifying the source."  Adrian's fists clenched. 'And the school?"   'They've contacted us," Turner said. 'Their alumni committee are displeased is pressuring them. But they are willing to let her continue on your behalf..... but after a semester's suspension"  Adrian's expression darkened. 'Tell them no compromise. We'll face the disciplinary panel. Ashleigh's name will be cleared, no matter what it takes."  Turner nodded, impressed by his boss's resolve. Adrian didn't just see Ashleigh as an obligation anymore. She was family. 'One more thing," Adrian added. 'Contact the investigation team in Italy. I want another meeting on the stalker case. All findings must be ready by tomorrow evening."   Turner bowed slightly and left, leaving Adrian alone. He turned back to the screen, watching Ashleigh smile at her aunt's jokes. Her laughter softened his expression, but Mrs. Smith's next question caught his attention.   'Ashleigh, in all this, why didn't you call your husband?"  Adrian leaned back, waiting for Ashleigh's response as he watched her stiffen. Ashleigh's smile faded as the room grew heavy with silence as the question lingered between them.