Blood and Inheritance

I nearly crushed my phone in my hand. One photo after another flicked past my screen, and then I saw it: Serena Ashford’s necklace.

That ruby pendant was our family’s heirloom.

It had been passed down for more than a hundred generations, but now it was hanging around the neck of an outsider?

I remembered it clearly. On Lila’s eighteenth birthday, I had placed it around her neck myself.

My pulse thundered as I dialed the number for Lila’s university, words spilling out before I could stop myself. I demanded to know about her enrollment.

The reply nearly knocked me off my feet.

"Lila Ashford? She dropped out a long time ago."

Dropped out? My daughter dropped out? It was like being struck by lightning. My mind went blank, buzzing.

I immediately called my husband, Adrian Ashford. Adrian’s face appeared on video, steam still rising from behind him. He’d just come from the hot springs, looking relaxed, freshly dressed, and utterly unconcerned.

"It’s just a pendant," he said, casual as ever. "Serena liked it, so I let her borrow it. Why are you making such a fuss? The girls are sisters. Sharing is normal."

Normal? Did he forget what that pendant meant?

I swallowed my fury and forced my voice steady. "Why isn’t Lila in school?"

"She didn’t want to go. Nothing anyone can do about it," Adrian replied lightly. Then, he hung up, just like that.

Rage shook me from head to toe. That man spoiled Serena to the point of lawlessness.

I thought back. Even before I left, Adrian had been paying less and less attention to Lila.

When she was little, he treated her like a treasure and fed her until she was plump and rosy. However, two years ago, after Serena came into our lives, everything changed. Suddenly, Adrian forbade Lila from eating meat, spouting nonsense about how a vegetarian diet was healthier. Right in front of her, he piled the table high with meat and delicacies for Serena.

I’d even joked at the time, "What, if Lila eats one less bite, will Serena grow an inch taller?"

He had called me petty and said our family wasn’t so poor that we had to count morsels.

Looking back now, I realize I was blind.

I tried calling Lila again and again, but her line was busy. That silly girl must be out on her milk delivery route.

I turned and dialed Helen Carter, our neighbor and a close friend. She always knew what was happening around the estate.

The moment she picked up, her voice trembled. "Claire, thank God you finally reached out. The truth is… It’s hard to say. But, well, Lila’s had a rough couple of years."

I pressed for details, but Helen wouldn’t budge.

Frustrated, I rang up Martha Winters, our longtime housekeeper, and launched straight into her. "Our household expenses have doubled over the past two years. Why did Lila give up the university she worked so hard to get into? Why did all of you hide this from me? Where did the money go?"

Martha, who was usually so deferential, sounded suddenly firm. "Miss Lila didn’t want to go. She said every time she set foot on campus, her head ached. Delivering milk makes her happier."

Happier? My daughter had always been top of her class, obsessed with studying. She had clawed her way into that university. I knew exactly how hard she had worked. And now delivering milk made her happier?

No. Something was very, very wrong.

The unease gnawed at me. I scrolled through Adrian’s social feed, and there it was. Just a short while ago, he’d taken Martha, Paul Mitchell the driver, and Serena on an overseas vacation.

During that same period, my poor Lila had collapsed from heatstroke and been rushed into the hospital.

A wellness center called to ask if I’d be renewing my membership. I snapped. "Renew? To hell with that."

Unable to wait another second, I ordered my assistant, Emily Clark, to book the next flight out.

I was going home. I had to see for myself what the hell was happening in my house.