Chapter 9 9

Aspen

DAY ONE

Brooke was a guard. Just after Damien left, he came in and handed my phone over to me. The new phone that Killian had bought for me actually. It was the newest Apple series and I was glad that I finally got a change of phone.

After Brooke left, I tried calling my dad but I got no response. I called him for over five times and the fifth time, the call stopped going through. It did not even ring. I went upstairs to my room and I was awe when I walked in. The room was beautiful. It was far more higger than my whole house and it screamed nothing but luxury. I found myself walking over to the closet and I literally gasped when I opened the closet.

It was no different from a mall. It felt like I had stepped into a clothes shop and all the clothes seemed to be my size. I picked out a simple wear and after showering, I went downstairs to make lunch as I was starving. I was the only one in the huge house and I had never felt so bored before in my life.

My phone was useless as I had no friends. After walking around for a while, I opted to watch TV and I ended up falling asleep on the couch. Killian did not return home that day.

The next morning, it was the voices from the door that woke me up from my sleep. I fell asleep on the couch while watching TV. And Killian was back. He was speaking to someone and they were both coming into the house.

I yawned, slowly sitting up on the couch. I just sat up when Killian walked in with Brooke. His eyes narrowed on seeing me, but he was quick to look away. He whispered something to Brooke who nodded.

“Okay boss,” Brooke said before he walked out of the house.

“Did you sleep here?” Killian asked and seriously, everything was so much peaceful when he was not home. I did not want to see him. I felt nothing but hatred towards Killian each time I looked at his face.

“I'm talking to you. Answer me!” The sudden rise in his tone made me flinch and I slowly stood up on my feet.

“Where I choose to sleep is none of your fucking business.” I snapped back at him with a little tremor in my voice. Looking at Killian, his hair looked dishelved and a few buttons in his shirt was undone. I did not fail to notice the stains on his shirt and looking closely I realized that it was blood.

My breath got caught in my throat as I also noticed some blood stains on his hand. Dried blood. Did he spend his whole night torturing someone?

Killian looked at me as his jaw worked. He wanted to say something, but held back his words and began to head upstairs. I followed behind him.

“I have something to tell you.” I began but Killian did not stop walking nor did he reply to me, but I continued speaking nonetheless.

“You have to do something about me staying at home all the time. And I want to go to the cops, I need to report to them that my father is missing.” The truth was that, I couldn't allow my father to go scot-free. He had to be punished.

“You don't have to do that. I will take care of it.” Killian simply said, his voice low. Despite having that rough look, his bergamot and minty smell was still very strong and filled my nostrils.

“I think I should get something doing. Staying in here for 24 hours is draining.” Especially when I had no friends to talk to.

“You are a Davenport. As my wife, you will not work.” Killian stated and I was about to start protesting when he suddenly turned it face me. His brown eyes landed on mine and his gaze lingered on my face.

He kept staring at me and the way he was staring so intently at me was intimidating. I was about to brush him off when he asked. “Do you have a sister?”

That was not a question that I expected Killian to ask. “Why are you—”

“That is a very simple question that requires a simple answer. Yes or no?” He snapped in an angry tone and I slowly inhaled a deep breath.

“Yes.” My parents originally had two kids. Clear and I. Clear had been missing for two years. None of us knew what happened to her. She just disappeared and trying to find her, made us lose a lot of money. When mom could not find her daughter, her health started deteriorating and dad started drinking more.

“Who is older?” Killian suddenly looked interested in our conversation and if I was not wrong, there was a somewhat look of desperation in his eyes.

“My sister.” Clear was two years older than me.

“Did you guys look alike?”

“I guess,” I mumbled. Why was Killian so interested in finding out about my sister?

“Do you have a picture of her?” He demanded.

“I have a picture of Clear. But what do you want with my sister?” Talking about her brought up memories and I soon began to miss Clear.

“Clear?” Killian’s brows furrowed.

“Yes, Clear. That is my sister’s name. What do you want with her?”

“Where is she?”

“Missing. Clear has been missing for two years. And I'd love it if you stop asking about my family. It's a personal and sensitive subject. And we are not that close to start talking personal.” Suddenly I was not in the mood again to tell Killian that I wanted a job or anything.

I just wanted to be alone. Thinking about my sister has reopened scars. Scars to old wounds that I knew would never heal again. Not when I had no idea if my sister was actually dead or alive. And the painful part of it all is that it was my fault that she went missing