Blocked

Adrian stood in the wreckage of his living room, glass shards from his mother’s dropped drink glittering on the floor like tiny accusations.

Catherine stared at the TV screen, then back at him. Her face had gone pale, then red.

“Adrian.” Her voice was strange. Tight. “Tell me you knew.”

He said nothing.

“Tell me you knew your wife was an ASHFORD.”

“I didn’t.”

“You DIDN’T?” She laughed, sharp and bitter. “Nine years. Nine years she was in this house and you never thought to ask about her family?”

“You told me not to.” The words came out cold. “You said her family didn’t matter. That she was beneath us. That she was lucky to have the Westbrook name.”

Catherine’s mouth opened, then closed.

“You hated her,” Adrian continued, his voice getting harder. “You criticized everything she did. Every meal, every outfit, every word out of her mouth. You made her feel small. You…”

“I was protecting you! Protecting this family from some nobody who got pregnant and trapped—”

“GET OUT.”

Catherine froze. “What?”

“You heard me. Get out of my house.”

“Adrian, you can’t be serious. We need to think strategically. If we can just…”

“I don’t want your strategy. I don’t want your help.” He walked to the door and opened it. “You spent nine years making her miserable. Congratulations. You got what you wanted. Now leave.”

Catherine grabbed her purse, her face twisted with rage. “You’re a fool, Adrian. Just like your father.”

She left. The door slammed.

Adrian stood alone in the too-quiet house, staring at the TV screen. They were showing the footage again. Kira on a red carpet, diamonds at her throat, smiling at someone off-camera. The caption still read: Mystery Ashford Heiress Returns After 9-Year Absence.

The Ashfords.

His nobody wife was an Ashford.

He pulled out his phone with shaking hands and searched “Kira Ashford.”

The results filled his screen. Wikipedia. News articles. Social media speculation. A whole life he’d never known existed.

He clicked on her Wikipedia page.

Kira Ashford-Hayes (born April 15, 1996) is an American chef, restaurateur, and member of the Ashford family. Known for her innovative fusion cuisine, Hayes rose to prominence in her early twenties before disappearing from public life in 2016…

The year they got married.

Adrian scrolled further. Awards. Television appearances. Magazine covers. A cooking show that ran for two seasons.

He clicked on a YouTube video. “Chef Kira Hayes - Rising Star Interview 2015.”

The thumbnail showed her younger, vibrant, wearing a chef’s coat and laughing at something off-camera.

He pressed play.

“So Kira, what drives you in the kitchen?”

Her smile was bright. Confident. Nothing like the quiet, careful woman who’d lived in his house for nine years.

“Honestly? I love the idea that food can tell a story. That you can put everything you are into a dish and share it with someone. It’s intimate. It’s vulnerable. It’s real.”

The interviewer leaned forward. “What’s your biggest dream?”

Kira’s expression softened. “I want to open a restaurant with someone I love. Build something together. Create a space where people feel seen and cared for. Where every detail matters.”

Adrian’s hand tightened on his phone.

He remembered Year Two. Kira had asked if she could cook for his business dinner. Something special, she’d said. To impress his clients.

He’d told her to just order catering. He didn’t have time to deal with her experimenting in the kitchen.

She’d never asked again.

He exited the video and kept scrolling. More articles. More interviews. Photos of her accepting awards, standing with celebrities, commanding professional kitchens.

This woman, this brilliant, accomplished woman had given it all up.

For him.

And he’d never even asked why.

Adrian grabbed his phone and searched for the Ashford Estate contact.

A woman answered on the second ring. “Ashford Estate, how may I direct your call?”

“I need to speak to my wife. Kira Westbrook.”

“May I have your name, sir?”

“Adrian Westbrook.”

There was a pause. The sound of typing. “I’m sorry, sir. You’re not on the approved contact list.”

“I don’t need to be on a list. I’m her husband.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to.”

“Just tell her I’m on the phone. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Mrs. Ashford has made it very clear she doesn’t want any contact with you.”

Mrs. Ashford. Not Mrs. Westbrook.

“Please.” The word tasted like ash. “Just tell her I called.”

“Have a good evening, sir.”

The line went dead.

Adrian stared at his phone. Three hours. The Ashford Estate was three hours away. He could drive there. Show up. Force her to see him.

But what would that change?

She’d already made herself clear.

He tried Marcus Ashford’s office next.

Got transferred four times before a receptionist politely informed him that Mr. Ashford was unavailable and would not be taking his calls.

He tried emailing Kira. The message bounced back. Address no longer valid.

He searched for her on social media. Nothing personal. Just official Ashford International accounts with comments disabled.

Every door was closed.

Every bridge was burned.

His phone buzzed. A notification.

BREAKING: Tech CEO Adrian Westbrook’s Secret Marriage to Ashford Family Member Revealed

He clicked on the article. There was a photo of him and Kira from three years ago at some charity event. She looked uncomfortable. He looked distracted.

The article detailed everything. Her disappearance from public life. Their marriage. The speculation about why she’d left.

One line stood out: Sources close to the family suggest the marriage was troubled for years.

His phone started ringing.

Board members. Investors. Press.

Everyone wanted answers.

Everyone wanted to know why he’d hidden his connection to the Ashfords.

Everyone wanted to know if he’d used her.

Adrian turned his phone off and sat in the dark living room.

Ethan appeared in the doorway, small and hesitant.

“Dad?”

“Go to bed, Ethan.”

“I saw Mom on TV. She looked pretty. She looked happy.”

That word. Happy.

“When can I see her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you call her?”

“She’s not answering.”

Ethan’s voice got smaller. “Is it because of me? Because I was mean to her?”

Adrian looked at his son. Nine years old. Eyes red from crying.

“No. It’s because of me.”

Ethan left.

Adrian sat alone until his phone buzzed again. He’d turned it off, but it had automatically restarted.

One new email.

The sender: Ashford International Events.

The subject: Invitation - Welcome Home Gala.

He opened it.

You are cordially invited to celebrate the return of Kira Ashford at an exclusive welcome gala. Black tie. Plus one permitted.

The date was three days away.

Adrian stared at the invitation.

If she wouldn’t see him in private, she’d have to face him in public.

He typed a response.

Attending. Plus one confirmed.

He hit send.

Then he texted Vanessa.