She screeched to a halt outside the mansion, the tires shrieking against the gravel. Slamming the car door with a force that rattled the windows, Ashley stormed toward the massive entrance. She barely registered the ornate carvings on the heavy doors as she threw them open, the bang echoing through the silent hallways.
"Tesmee!" she yelled, her voice cracking under the weight of her fury. "Tesmee!"
From the top of the grand staircase, Tesmee finally appeared, her silk robe flowing like dark smoke around her. Her eyes, usually cool and controlled, widened slightly at the sight of Ashley, but a smirk quickly curved her lips.
"What's with the drama on such a peaceful day, gorgeous?" Tesmee called down, her tone light, mocking — as if Ashley were no more than a petulant child. "You could've just called if you missed me that much."
The casualness in Tesmee's voice was like fuel to a raging fire. Ashley's fists clenched at her sides as she seethed.
"What happened to my father?" Ashley demanded, her voice hoarse, trembling with suppressed rage.
Tesmee's smile sharpened into something cold. "What happened to him?" she echoed, dripping with feigned innocence. A dangerous glint flashed in her steel-gray eyes.
Ashley's scream ripped through the mansion, feral and raw. "You know what happened!"
Tesmee barely flinched, gliding down the stairs with measured steps. "Jeez, gorgeous, keep your voice down. We're not in a nightclub," she murmured, her voice silk over steel.
Ashley's nails dug into her palms, drawing crescent-shaped marks. Every fiber in her being screamed at her to strike Tesmee, to tear her smug expression off her face. "Did you kill him?" she spat through gritted teeth.
Tesmee stopped in front of her, their faces inches apart. The air between them pulsed with tension.
"Did Tyson tell you that?" Tesmee said, voice low, almost pitying. "He's certainly blinding you."
Without giving Ashley a chance to respond, Tesmee turned and sauntered into the sitting room, her movements taunting in their casualness.
Ashley followed, the floor trembling beneath her furious steps. "Even if he told me, it would only be half the truth. You're capable of it, Tesmee. Highly."
Tesmee dropped onto the velvet sofa with feline grace, crossing one leg over the other. Her gaze was steady, unbothered. "You're right," she said simply. "I am capable. But only with reason." She tilted her head slightly. "And your husband knows exactly who killed your father... just as I do."
Ashley's voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "Yes or no, did you kill him?"
Tesmee stared at her for a long, loaded moment. Then, with a dismissive flick of her eyes, she looked away — and said nothing.
The silence snapped something inside Ashley. "YES OR NO, TESMEE!" she screamed, the words tearing from her soul.
Tesmee sighed, as if exhausted by Ashley's tantrum. "Nope," she said finally, her tone maddeningly light.
Ashley staggered back a step, momentarily blindsided by the simple denial. "Then who did?" she demanded, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear her own voice.
"The Volkov Mafia," Tesmee said coolly, as if discussing the weather.
Ashley's mind reeled. Memories crashed through her — her father's half-hearted warnings, tales of Russian threats she had dismissed as exaggeration. Was it real? Had he been right all along?
"Why?" Ashley choked out, her voice barely more than a breath.
Tesmee shrugged with cruel indifference. "I don't know. I don't care. It's none of my business."
Ashley's stomach turned. "How did I not know you were a wolf disguised in sheep's clothing?" she whispered, disgust dripping from her words.
Tesmee's eyes narrowed slightly, her voice dropping to a dangerous softness. "Villains are not born, Ashley. They're made."
Ashley's lip curled in revulsion. "There's always a choice," she hissed. "You chose to become what you are. You chose to make others suffer for your own gain."
For the first time, something flickered across Tesmee's face — not regret, but a shadow of pain quickly buried beneath her usual steel.
"I'm glad," Tesmee said, standing slowly, her voice almost gleeful with cruelty. "I'm glad you see me clearly now. Close the door with the same force you opened it with... or maybe I should give you a real reason to."
She stepped closer, her next words like a dagger twisting into Ashley's chest.
"Your father deserved to die."
Ashley's world tilted. She screamed and lunged forward, but a strong hand grabbed her — one of Tesmee's men, emerging like a ghost from the shadows. He shoved her toward the door, ignoring her struggles.
Ashley slammed the door behind her with a deafening crack. Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled into her car and sped away, tires shrieking against the road.
When Ashley stormed into her kitchen, Tyson was waiting — serene as ever, Tywin resting on his arm. The toddler gurgled and played with his toy, innocent to the storm brewing around him.
"Where were you?" Tyson asked, his tone deceptively calm.
Ashley, trembling with bottled fury, shot him a cold look. "The Volkovs killed my father, didn't they?"
Tyson didn't flinch. He nodded once, slow and deliberate. "Why do you ask, baby?"
"I went to confront Tesmee," Ashley admitted, her voice shaking. "She said it was them. I wanted to see if she'd lie. You know what she told me?"
Tyson tilted his head slightly. "What?"
"She said my father deserved to die," Ashley whispered, her voice hollow, broken.
Tyson sipped his whiskey slowly, his next words measured. "I'll look into it. Maybe she knows something... maybe she doesn't."
The coldness of the whole situation struck Ashley hard. For the first time, doubt gnawed at her heart. Had she really known her father? Had she really known Tesmee? Or herself?
But as Tyson stepped forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, and Tywin cooed in his arms, her heart softened.
Ashley kissed Tyson tenderly, kissed Tywin's soft cheek, and rested her head against her husband's shoulder.
"Thank you for everything," she whispered.
Tyson pulled her closer, his arms a fortress around her. "No, thank you," he murmured against her hair. "I love you, Ashley."
Their shared kiss was soft, full of healing promises. Tywin's excited giggles made them both laugh, a small slice of light in a world that suddenly felt so dark.
Ashley smiled up at Tyson, her voice playful but sincere. "It's been a while since we spent time together — just the two of us."
Tyson's grin turned wicked. "Mhh, it has been. But we'll figure something out."
He glanced down at Tywin, his love for his son evident in every line of his face. "Mom will love having him for the night. I can already hear the embarrassing stories she'll tell you about me."
Ashley chuckled, the sound easing the tension in her chest. "She's wonderful. A part of me never thought I'd have another mother."
Their embrace was full of warmth, full of hope.
Meanwhile, in Tesmee's large, polished kitchen — the same one that had seen countless nights of quiet and chaos — music played softly from the hidden speakers. The marble counters gleamed under the soft light as she danced alone, a wooden spoon in her hand, stirring the pot on the stove.
Her phone vibrated on the counter. Without breaking stride, she dried her hands and picked it up.
The caller ID flashed: Private.
She answered coolly, bringing the phone to her ear.
A deep, commanding voice spoke on the other end, smooth as a whispered secret.
"If you're willing, we meet. If not, I won't ask twice. Your choice, krasivaya."
Tesmee paused, her eyes narrowing as the weight of the words sank in. A silent conflict flickered across her face, but no response came.