🥀|| ❝𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝❞ ||
Sooner or later, it was going to happen. Sooner or later, she would pay the price f...
A/N: For this chapter I recommend reading the 🔹WARNINGS🔹 section
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𝕋ommy arrived in Birmingham the next day, as the sun was beginning to set behind the grove of trees that marked his lands. He parked the car in front of the wide entrance to the mansion and Cyril came out to meet him, wagging his tail with joy.
"Hello, boy", Tommy greeted the dog with the words since he couldn't pet it. He was carrying the box he had brought from London and it was heavy.
Frances, the housekeeper, appeared in the doorway, somewhat unsettled by what Tommy was carrying, and offered to take the box as soon as him entered the house.
"No, Frances", Tommy refused. "It's too heavy for you".
"We weren't expecting you so soon, Mr. Shleby", the housekeeper commented, following in his footsteps.
"Good way of telling me I'm not welcome in my fucking house", Tommy snapped as he hurried toward his study. Carrying that weight, he cursed how unnecessarily large the mansion was.
Behind him, he heard the housekeeper try to justify herself but couldn't come up with a sentence that sounded convincing enough. Tommy didn't care; he was aware that, in recent times, even the service felt a certain animosity towards him and, being honest with himself, he couldn't care less. He was paying them their wages to do the work they had to do, not to be his friends. Besides, Tommy had bigger issues on his mind at the time.
He arrived at the door of his study and noticed that it was closed, which caught his attention, since when he went out, he always left it open. It was a tactic that he had learned to implement to know when a person entered his study, since if someone did, it was to be expected that they would close the door when leaving.
Tommy looked at Frances and nodded for her to open the door for him. It was then that he noticed that the woman was more nervous than she should be.
Striving to ignore the number of suspicious clues, Tommy stepped into his study. The first thing he did was look at his desk, which was spotless. Tommy placed the box he brought on the couch as felt his blood begin to boil.
"Where is the box?", he asked bluntly.
"Which box, Mr. Shelby?"
"The box that was on top of my desk, the one Ada brought in a couple of weeks ago".
Tommy witnessed how Frances was unable to meet his gaze and was breathing heavily. The housekeeper was holding back from speaking and he knew he couldn't pressure a poor woman who was only following orders.
"It's okay, Frances. Don't worry. I know who it was", he snapped and freed himself from his coat and cap, throwing them angrily on the desk.
Tommy left the study and walked to the place where he knew he would find her. Lizzie was in the living room and he knew it when halfway into it, he heard the record player. He snorted when he imagined her there, so calm with her cigarette between her fingers, enjoying the feat she had accomplished in keeping the diaries and memories of the woman she had hated the most.
