Not normal anymore
1235 Words
Serena’s POV
I didn’t remember leaving the conference room.
One moment, I was standing there listening to lawyers talk about me like I was part of an estate plan, and the next, I was already walking through the long halls of Ashford Manor. My steps were fast without me really deciding them, like my body was moving before my mind could catch up.
My chest was tight the whole way.
Not from fear exactly. I kept telling myself it wasn’t fear. Fear would mean I was weak, and I couldn’t afford that feeling right now.
The storm outside had gotten worse.
Rain hit the windows hard, and every now and then, lightning lit up the white marble floors. The house felt different, like it had also been part of that meeting downstairs. Like it had heard everything and agreed with it.
I didn’t like that thought, so I pushed it away.
By the time I got to my room, my hands were shaking slightly. I closed the door quickly behind me and leaned against it for a second, just trying to breathe normally again.
Everything felt like too much.
Three months ago, I was just grieving Lucien.
Now I was sitting in a room while people discussed inheritance rules and acted like I was part of them.
It didn’t even sound real when I thought about it properly.
I walked away from the door and stopped by the window.
Outside, the sea was dark and loud.
I couldn’t see much, but I could hear it clearly.
That sound reminded me of him again.
Everything reminded me of him anyway, even when I didn’t want it to.
I stood there for a while, just looking out.
My thoughts kept returning to the same things, the same images.
Him walking into rooms like he owned them.
His voice when he was tired.
The way he would argue over small things for absolutely no reason.
I hated that my mind still did that.
Because every time I remembered him, it made everything else feel worse.
His family.
The lawyers.
The estate talk.
All of it.
And still, underneath all that anger, I missed him.
I missed him more than I wanted to admit.
The house stayed quiet for a long time.
I think that was the worst part of Ashford Manor.
It was never loud, even when people filled it.
Just quiet in a way that made everything you were thinking feel louder.
At night, it was worse.
At night, there was nothing to distract me.
No meetings.
No conversations.
No pretending to be fine.
Just silence and my own thoughts.
A knock came at the door.
I stopped immediately.
For a second, I didn’t move.
My mind went straight back to downstairs, to lawyers, to more explanations I didn’t want to hear.
“Serena?”
That voice made me relax a little.
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened and Isolde Moreau walked in.
I didn’t realize how much I needed to see a familiar face until that moment.
My throat tightened slightly, and I had to look away for a second.
Isolde noticed immediately.
“What happened?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Nothing.”
She gave me a look.
“That is not a nothing face.”
I let out a short breath, almost a laugh but not quite.
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
I walked away from the window and sat on the edge of the bed.
I didn’t even know what to say first.
Isolde stayed standing for a moment before pulling a chair closer.
She had worked with the Ashfords before.
She knew how this family operated better than most people.
And she knew me too, in a way most people here didn’t.
“What did they do this time?” she asked.
I hesitated.
Then I said it.
“The lawyers told me I’m part of Lucien’s inheritance.”
There was a pause.
A long one.
Isolde blinked once.
Then again, like she thought she’d misheard me.
“Sorry, what?”
I looked at her.
“I’m included in his inheritance plan. Like property or something. I don’t even know.”
Silence again.
Isolde slowly leaned forward.
“No. No, that’s not how inheritance works, Serena. That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It’s their tradition, apparently.”
Her expression changed slightly.
“Tradition?” she repeated.
I nodded.
“They said something about old agreements. That widows are included in inheritance structures.”
Isolde went quiet again, but this time it wasn’t confusion.
It was something else.
“That is not normal,” she said finally.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s not just not normal. It’s not legal in most places.”
I looked down at my hands.
“Well, it exists in their documents, apparently.”
Isolde leaned back slowly in the chair.
“That family is worse than I remembered.”
I didn’t respond.
Because I didn’t know what to say.
There was a pause between us again.
The kind that didn’t feel comfortable.
Isolde watched me carefully.
“You’re shaking,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
I didn’t answer.
She stood up and walked a little closer.
“Serena, look at me.”
I did, but slowly.
“You cannot stay in this house alone right now.”
“I have nowhere else to go.”
“That’s not true.”
I looked away again.
It was quiet for a moment.
Outside, the rain kept hitting the glass.
Isolde sighed.
“Listen to me properly. This isn’t just about grief anymore. They’re trying to control the situation, and you’re in the middle of it.”
I stayed quiet.
“I know,” I said after a while.
She shook her head.
“No. You don’t fully know. Not yet.”
I swallowed.
“What am I supposed to do then?”
Isolde didn’t answer immediately.
That made me more nervous than anything else she had said.
Finally, she spoke.
“First, you don’t stay here alone tonight.”
“I’m fine on my own.”
“No, you’re not,” she said quickly.
There was no softness in her tone now.
Just certainty.
I didn’t respond.
Because part of me already knew she was right.
The room felt smaller than before.
Or maybe I was just noticing it more.
Isolde looked toward the door, then back at me.
“I’ll stay with you tonight if I have to.”
I frowned slightly.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” she said. “But I’m doing it anyway.”
There was another pause.
Then I nodded once.
“Okay.”
It came out smaller than I wanted it to.
Not strong.
Not steady.
Just tired.
Isolde didn’t comment on it.
She simply exhaled and looked around the room like she was already planning what needed to happen next.
I leaned back slightly on the bed.
My thoughts were still loud.
The inheritance thing didn’t feel real.
Even saying it out loud sounded wrong.
But the worst part wasn’t even that.
It was the feeling that this was only the beginning of something I didn’t fully understand yet.
And I didn’t know who I could trust inside this house anymore.
Not really.
- Writer
