'And spite's as good a reason to take his power'
-
Almost twenty years ago, Logan Roy had an affair with Elizabeth Ronan's mother, one that ended in her divorce and a number of rather unsavoury news s...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
|| CHAPTER 16 – A Mother's Love ||
(Season 2 Ep 7 – 'Return')
✦✧✦✧
( New York - 21 Years Ago )
Elizabeth's dad had always told her to never slam doors. But, he had also picked her up ever day after school for as long as she could remember. So, having just been dropped off by her mother's driver, she ran inside the house and let the front door shut with a resounding slam to express her discontent.
Deciding to further her rebellion by not taking her shoes off inside, Elizabeth dropped her bag right by the door and walked into the foyer of their townhouse, intentionally dragging her feet against the shining marble floors.
She had no care for her own petulance, only that she'd had to endure a silent ride back with her mother's driver Frederick, who always wore too much cologne and never smiled. He hadn't even let her put the radio the on.
Elizabeth wandered further inside, coming to a stop just when she was met with a blockade at the bottom of the stairs.
Lined up in a neat row, were a number of large suitcases.
The sight, combined with her father's unheard-of absence at school pickup, sent panic crashing through her like a perilous wave.
"Dad?" She shouted out nervously, already running up the stairs, trying to propel herself faster by using the polished banister as an anchor. "Dad!"
Just as she reached her parent's bedroom, the already ajar door swung open to reveal her father.
With his towering, muscular physique and a face that was all hard lines, Arthur Ronan should have been an intimidating man to look at, but his wide brown eyes that were shaded by thick brows, softened him.
As he looked down at his daughter, his face was overcome by a beaming smile, but it did not make her feel at ease. He looked like he might have been crying.
Elizabeth had never seen her father cry.
"Hey, honey! How was school?" He asked as he engulfed her in a hug. "I'm sorry I couldn't pick you up."
Elizabeth was too distracted by what was unfolding behind him to reply.
The bedroom at his back was a flurry of activity—a number of their maids hurrying about and placing carefully folded bundles of clothes in yet more suitcases—and at the centre of it all, like the calm eye of a storm, was her mother, looking utterly unperturbed.
"Be careful with that!" she ordered, wagging a perfectly manicured figure at one of their maid's Eleanor, who was holding a silk gown of some kind.
Louise Barclay was the definition of picture perfect. Her platinum blonde hair, that was silken and shiny as if it was natural, was always in a perfect up-do with not a strand out of place. Her lips were always lined in a striking shade of red that was never smudged. Usually, she had a pair of sleek sunglasses resting on her pronounced cheekbones, but in that moment that were clutched in the hand she wasn't using to direct her staff.
