Chương 7 - The Auction of Ashford Manor
Six weeks later.
The early winter snow had begun to dust the sprawling lawns of Oakridge, coating the bare branches of the silver maples in a fragile, glittering frost.
Parked along the winding driveway were dozens of black town cars, moving vans, and auction appraisal trucks. The heavy iron gates that my father had mangled on the night of my escape had been replaced by temporary chain-link barricades marked with bright yellow signs:
*FORECLOSURE AUCTION CONDUCTED BY APEX CAPITAL MANAGEMENT.*
I stood on the portico, wrapped in a long ivory cashmere coat, a warm cup of coffee cradled between my leather-gloved hands. Lily was safely at home in Ithaca, baking gingerbread cookies with my father’s longtime housekeeper.
Beside me, Evelyn flipped through the master inventory list.
“Every antique, painting, and heirloom piece has been cataloged,” Evelyn said. “The bank took possession yesterday at 5:00 PM. Gavin surrendered the keys without incident. He’s currently staying in a studio apartment in Queens, working as a junior clerk for an insurance brokerage.”
“And Priscilla?” I asked.
“Her bail was set at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, which Richard refused to pay. She spent three weeks at Rikers before a public defender managed to negotiate a plea deal. Two years of community service, five years of strict probation, and a permanent restraining order. She’s living in a retirement village in New Jersey on her deceased sister’s modest trust.”
A battered yellow cab pulled up to the turnaround fountain.
The door opened, and Gavin stepped out.
He looked unrecognizable. He was wearing an off-the-rack trench coat that was two sizes too big, his hair was unkempt, and the arrogant, polished veneer that had once drawn me to him was entirely gone. He walked toward the steps, his breath puffing into the freezing air.
He stopped at the bottom of the portico, looking up at me.
“Nora,” he said quietly.
“You aren't supposed to be here, Gavin. The restraining order applies to this property.”
“The auctioneer gave me thirty minutes to collect personal items from the attic,” he said, his voice stripped of all its former fire. “Just my grandfather’s war medals and some old childhood photos. That’s all.”
I nodded to the security guard standing near the entrance, signaling him to stand down. “Take them and go.”
Gavin didn't move immediately. He looked at the neoclassical facade of the house, then back at me.
“I saw a picture of Lily on your father’s foundation website,” he said, his eyes rimmed with red. “She looks happy. She grew taller.”
“She’s thriving,” I replied. “She started ballet last week. She sleeps through the night now. She doesn't flinch when someone drops a fork.”
Gavin flinched as if I had struck him.
“I’m sorry, Nora,” he choked out, his shoulders slumping. “I know it doesn't mean anything now. I know I destroyed everything. But I was so afraid of my mother... I was so afraid of losing the Ashford name, the prestige, the company... I convinced myself that keeping the peace meant letting her control everything.”
“You weren't keeping the peace, Gavin,” I said, looking down at him with no hatred left in my heart—only a deep, liberating indifference. “You were sacrificing me to feed her monster. And in the end, that monster ate you, too.”
May you like
He wiped a tear from his cold cheek with the back of his hand, nodded once, and quietly walked into the empty house to claim his small box of memories.
***
