𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐒 two years ago, my life changed forever. All it took was one night to alter the rest of my life. I wasn't sure about a lot of things however, there are two things that I was absolutely certain on: what I wanted to wear and who...
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The Grand National is probably in my top three events in the social calendar for sports. Obviously, the Grand Prix comes out on top followed by Wimbledon but I do love race day.
It's been a couple weeks since the shooting, since Heidi and I've taken the time to come to terms with everything. I was terrified at the club that night but I was also half-passed out so thankfully, I don't remember an awful lot. Nearly losing George is on a vicious loop in my head, though. I've had to keep him in my sight like a child.
Me and Heidi settled things, spoke through things. Everything's okay for now. Nothing is serious or life-threatening at this moment so I'm just learning to live in the present. And the Grand National happens to be the perfect distraction.
"Miss Hayes, can I stop you for a moment?" A reporter steps in front of me as I follow Astrid and Mia up to the Pavilion Boxes.
"Sure," I smile, it's been a while since I've had any readable material about myself in the tabloids and I'd rather give the people something than them making nonsense up.
"Who are you wearing today, Miss Hayes?" The reporter gives me a huge smile dressed in a three-piece suit.
"Dress is Carolina Herrera," I point to the pretty pink number I've had planned for days. "Hat is Emily London, bad and shoes are Christian Dior and gloves are Cornelia James," I wiggle my white satin-covered fingers at his camera.
"The event is filled with an array of colours and flamboyant hats—many name brands are here watching the races. Care to tell us how much your outfit comes to, Miss Hayes?" He gives me a teasing look. They love this question—can't say I hate answering, though.
I think about it for a second, quickly do the mental math. "Oooh, around the eight thousand-five hundred mark."
The reporter gasps, I start smiling and getting into more, answering his questions about betting and the horses. "One last thing, Miss Hayes—who is joining you upstairs? Anyone special?" He wiggles his brows.
I lean in close to the microphone as more people start bustling around us. "They're all special—everyone is up there." And I leave it at that, he waves me off.
Everyone is up there, that's not a lie or anything but I know he wanted me to maybe mention George or Albie so he could question about the Forbes shooting. Of course, it made headline news everywhere—all over the world. Although, no one apart from the people who were inside actually knows what went down.
They paid people off, cleared away dead bodies without anyone giving them as so much as a blink. Dare I say the Forbes are the most powerful people in the world. Forget politicians and presidents, they've always been caught out for their crimes. But never the Forbes. Blake's still being classed as the 'White Rabbit'.
Even when George went to prison, he got a ten-year sentence cut short and made it look like he went in for a crime he didn't even commit.
When I get into the box, I'm greeted with champagne—Moët. Astrid waves me over in her Stella McCartney pleated knit midi dress. Blue is such a lovely colour on her, really complements her hair. She looks like Margot Robbie in The Wolf of Wall Street (an incredibly shit, masculine film that I've been forced to watch because I grew up with the Forbes men).
