Chapter 5

Lucas Grayson?

Ashley nodded absently, her gaze drifting to a man who had just passed by, his large mole a prominent feature on his head. I couldn't help but snicker under my breath. I didn’t know the man, but he was clearly another regular in this gritty bar. As I tried to recall the name Lucas Grayson, something tugged at the edge of my memory—something familiar, but too far out of reach. It was probably someone I should know. If I did, he'd be one of the high-society types that I mingled with back when I was part of the Rivera family. I shook my head. But then again, it wouldn't be too surprising if he owned a bar. Rich people had a way of spending their money on things they didn't need—bars, clubs, and all those expensive toys.

"Heard he bought this place like two weeks ago," Ashley continued, pulling me from my thoughts. She took my hand and led me behind the bar, an area I was decidedly not prepared to work in today. I hadn’t expected this. Heck, I didn’t even know how to mix drinks. The only thing I could manage was a margarita, and that was thanks to Ashley’s lessons.

"So, have you seen the boss?" I asked, my voice tentative.

"Nope," Ashley replied, already filling up a glass with ice. "He hardly comes in here. Griffin told me he’s busy running his other businesses."

"Wow. Sounds like a busy guy." I tried to sound casual, but the man who came up to the bar for a Blue Lagoon drink distracted me momentarily.

"Yeah, he is," Ashley said as she effortlessly mixed the drink, tossing in Smirnoff vodka, lemonade, and something else I couldn't quite place. She added a splash of blue curaçao and garnished it with a lemon twist before sliding the drink across the counter. "Heard he's a cop too."

I froze. A cop? Working at a cop’s bar? It suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. What if I got caught? I could be back in jail in a heartbeat. My mind raced, adrenaline spiking in my veins.

"A cop, wow. Just what I needed," I muttered, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

Ashley smirked, unfazed. "Don't worry. Griffin says he doesn’t wear a uniform."

"And that’s supposed to make me feel better?" I shot back, though I couldn’t hide my unease. A cop without a uniform was probably a higher rank, someone with power—a boss cop. Someone who could make my life miserable without even blinking.

Ashley stopped stirring the drink, giving me a look. "Guess I never thought of that," she shrugged, not seeming too bothered.

Before I could respond, a greasy-looking man at the bar knocked on the table twice, growling, "Quit your yapping and get me my drink."

Ashley rolled her eyes but slid the drink toward him, all business. He snorted and stormed off but not before leaving a generous tip. Well, that was unexpected.

"It's alright if he doesn’t visit the bar often," I muttered, trying to shake off my earlier discomfort. "I’ll probably never meet him anyway."

Ashley nodded, though her gaze seemed distracted. "Yeah, you’re probably right. Let’s just hope you never have to deal with him."

°°°°

By the time we closed up for the night, I was beyond tired. Homeless, broke, and with nowhere else to turn, I ended up crashing at Ashley’s place. Not that I had many options. My bank account was off-limits, and I couldn’t risk being caught by anyone. I tossed off my shoes and collapsed onto the couch.

All I had done that day was watch Ashley work her magic behind the bar. It wasn’t bad for my first day, but I wasn’t sure what I’d do once we got different shifts. The idea of working alone made me feel... vulnerable.

Ashley came into the room, bottle of tequila in hand. "You should learn to take a break sometimes," I said, a slight reprimand in my voice.

She just waved me off. "Bah! I’m good."

I turned my head to stare at the ceiling, my thoughts spiraling back to Autumn. I wondered what she was doing now, what had become of my little girl. The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence. At this time, we’d usually be curled up together, eating cookies, reading stories.

I could almost hear Ethan’s fingers tapping on the piano keys, a soft melody filling the house as Autumn played with her Miss Ponytail doll. Did she still have it? I wondered.

We used to be a family. A real family. That was before death came knocking on Ethan’s door, before he was taken from us—too soon, too unfairly. He had been the gentle one, the calm among the storm. Who could have harmed him? He didn’t deserve to go out like that.

"Are you asleep?" Ashley’s voice broke through the silence.

"I can't even sleep," I murmured, rolling onto my back.

"Good. Me too." I could hear the rustling of clothes and the soft thud as Ashley sat next to the sofa, her knees drawn to her chest.

"Tell me what prison life was like?" she asked, the curiosity evident in her tone.

"Why? Are you hoping you'll go there soon?" I smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe," she replied with a wicked grin.

We both laughed softly, and I could feel some of the tension in my body ease. But then, the mood shifted.

"Well, it wasn’t all pleasant," I began, my voice growing quieter. "The days were long, the nights colder. I used to stay up late, imagining what Autumn was doing. I couldn’t sleep. It was... hard." A tear slid down my cheek.

Ashley shifted closer, her voice softening. "And most nights, I plotted my escape," I continued, my eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. "I had to get out of there. I couldn’t live with myself knowing Ethan’s killer was still out there, walking around free. I needed justice."

"Like a ghost walker?" Ashley quipped, trying to make light of the dark subject.

I smiled weakly. "Yeah... something like that."

The room fell quiet again, and the sounds of crickets from outside filtered in through the window, reminding me of prison. The chirping used to drive me insane, but eventually, it became a strange comfort. Now, it just brought memories—painful ones.

"Elaine," Ashley’s voice was gentle but determined, "I think it’s time we start plotting how to get Autumn back."

"We?" I asked, surprised.

She stared at me, her eyes serious. "You didn’t think I’d let you do this on your own, did you?"

"Oh Ash," I whispered, throwing my arms around her neck, holding her tightly. "Thank you."

She smiled and patted my back. "Don’t thank me yet. Wait until everything’s over. Then, you can thank me."

"Let’s just rest," I said, my energy drained. "I’m too tired to plot anything right now."

Ashley chuckled. "You sounded like a villain just now," she teased, and I grinned.

°°°°

The next morning, Ashley came into the kitchen, holding a couple of newspapers. "We should get you an ID card," she suggested.

"You think?" I raised an eyebrow as I poured galangal tea into two mugs.

"Yeah. A fake one though." She sipped the tea with a grimace. "Seattle’s a boring place. All they ever talk about in the papers is business."

I snorted. "I bet my case was the biggest gossip in Seattle at the time."

Ashley giggled. "Oh, please! You were everywhere. People loved a scandal."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the newspaper from her hand. As I skimmed through the pages, the name Rivera caught my eye. The bold headline read: The Rivera Empire Goes Through an Unfathomable Change.

I flicked to the next page. "Check this out." I nudged Ashley, and she gasped when she saw the headline: Cooper Rivera to Host the Biggest Charity Event of the Century.

"Look at the date," Ashley said, pointing.

I scanned the text quickly until I found the date: 23rd October. It was in two weeks.

I felt a flutter of excitement in my chest. This could be my chance. My ticket to seeing Autumn again.

"You’re not planning to walk in there like you own the place, are you?" Ashley frowned.

"They won’t recognize me," I said, my smile growing wider.

Ashley shook her head. "With all that surgery, maybe but don’t count on that, sweetheart. Those people are vultures."

I couldn’t stop the smirk from forming on my face. If there was one thing I knew about the Riveras, it was that they wouldn’t see me coming. They're always so cluless about anything else but business and money, so stuck up in they're own world, they wouldn't care about a lowlife like me.

"Hey, look!" Ashley pointed to a family photo just below the headline. My heart skipped a beat. There, standing next to her grandmother, was Autumn—only seven years old, wearing a sea-blue gown and holding her hand, smiling for the camera.

My baby, Autumn.