Suzy couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Ryan was doing all this for her, just because he loved her. All her life, she had been unlucky in love. She was always the one giving her all in relationships, only to receive little to no love in return. She asked herself, "Is this what it means to be loved?"
A stoic and by-the-book man like Ryan breaking one of the most important Carleton rules just to have her sit close to him. It was a gesture that spoke volumes about his feelings for her.
She was happy, truly happy. But then, her happiness vanished as she remembered her reality. This was not her world, this was not her body. She was just an occupant, a pawn in a game she didn’t understand. She doesn’t know if she would still go back and if she does what happens to this new love she has found.
"I have a lot to do," she muttered to herself, her voice filled with a sense of determination. "There’s no time for feelings."
She regained her composure and continued eating, her mind racing with thoughts. She knew that she had to focus on the task at hand, on finding what happened to Cassandra’s mother. Love should be the last thing on her mind.
After finishing her meal, she stood up, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. "Goodnight," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Before she could leave, Ryan spoke. "Duchess, please," he said, his voice filled with hope.
Suzy turned to face him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and defiance. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal, your Grace? I’m going to bed," she said, her voice firm.
She didn’t wait for a response. With that, she turned and left the room, her footsteps echoing as she entered the hallway leading to her bedroom.
As she lay in bed, her mind raced with thoughts. She couldn’t deny that she was starting to feel something for Ryan. But she knew that she had to be strong, that she had to focus on what she has set her mind on.
——————-
Ryan sat there, feeling sad but quickly regaining his composure. Taking the last bite of his meal, he cleaned his mouth with a napkin. Davis came in with a message from Thorne.
As the servant began clearing the table, Ryan collected the letter and went to his study. Sitting down on his chair, he broke the seal of the letter and began to read.
The contents of the letter were as follows:
"Your Grace," the letter began. "It is I, Thorne. I apologize for not reporting earlier, as the murderer is very careful at hiding clues relating to himself. But I have obtained a vital piece of information."
Thorne continued, "I have been researching the events that occurred twenty years ago. The only significant incident I could find was an unfair death. A mother committed suicide, but no other information was given. Who is she? What drove her to kill herself, even with her child present? There are no answers. Not even a single clue that can connect us to her identity and circumstances leading to her imposed death."
As Ryan continued reading, his face grew increasingly serious.
"But rest assured, Your Grace," Thorne concluded. "I will get to the bottom of this."
Ryan let out a sigh as he dropped the letter on his desk. The news was disheartening, but it was also a promising lead. It seemed that the murder was not as straightforward as he had originally thought.
He rubbed his bridge of his nose, his frustration evident. He began tapping his fingers on on his desk, his mind racing.
He sat there for a long time, lost in thought. He couldn’t believe that a mother would commit suicide. And he couldn’t believe that she had done it with her child present.
He knew that this was going to be difficult, but he kept wondering, is the muderer her son, the little child present to see his mother’s last breath snatched away before him or is he a family member who wants to avenge her death or her lover who couldn’t deal with the loss?
His head felt like it was going to explode, too many scenarios kept creeping into his mind, playing one after the other, giving him a different instance of who the murderer might be. Having had enough, he stood up to retire to his room. Maybe some sleep would do him some good by clearing his head. As he passed Suzy’s room, he contemplated going inside or not.
He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that he should leave her alone, that she needed time to herself. But he also couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing. He missed her, and he wanted to see her.
He took a deep breath, his mind racing. Finally, he decided to go inside. He knocked on the door, his heart pounding in his chest.
There was no answer. He knocked again, this time a little louder.
Still, there was no answer.
He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He took a deep breath, his mind racing. Then, he decided to go inside. He knew that he couldn’t resist the temptation. Finally, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.
The room was dark, the only light coming from the moonlight that filtered through the window. He could see Suzy lying in bed, her body tossing and turning.
He approached the bed, his heart filled with a pang of longing. He sat down beside her, his hand reaching out to touch her face.
Suzy stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She looked at him, her face filled with confusion.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper and full of sleep.
Ryan hesitated, his brain losing the ability to form words. He didn’t have any idea of how to tell her how he feels.
"I... I," he said, his voice low and steady.
Yawn.
Stretch.
"Go to bed Ryan, I’m sleeping." She said as she snuggled deeply into the pillows.
He decided to leave her alone. He would wait until morning, when she was rested and ready to talk.
He turned to leave, his heart heavy with sadness. He missed her so much, and he couldn’t wait to see her again.
As he walked down the hallway, he brought the fingers he used to touch her face to his lips and kissed it.
He entered his room and collapsed onto the bed, his body exhausted. He closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would bring him some relief. But as he drifted off to sleep, his mind was filled with thoughts of Suzy, of the murderer, and of the mystery that surrounded them.