Chelsea had heard from the maids that Tommy had instructed John to take Charles to Arthur's and Linda's so they could practice for their new baby.
Chelsea tried to be happy for her Uncle when she found out his wife was pregnant, but it was all fake. She felt extremely guilty about it, but she didn't find it fair that everyone else was moving on with their life.
She was still stuck in the Charity Dinner. The gun shot sounding. Tommys sobs. Chelsea's screams. Arthur hugging her and whispering in her ear.
How could everyone just forget? She felt like her mind was a prison, locking her up for life and throwing away the fucking key.
Isaiah wasn't staying in the room with Chelsea that night. He had gone out with Micheal for a drink and they stayed down in Birmingham, Small Heath. Chelsea gave them the key to the old house in Watery Lane if they needed to stay there incase they got too drunk, and when Isaiah didn't return, she knew it was the right idea.
Her brother wasn't there. Her dad still wasn't speaking to her. Isaiah was out. Arthur was busy babysitting. John was probably chasing Esme down some fucking field. Polly was probably drunk out of her head.
Chelsea was completely alone. Sitting on the windowsill, staring at the framed photo of her and Grace.
Chelsea sighed, grabbed the empty glass of whiskey beside the photo frame and threw it at the floor.
She stormed out of her room, she got to the staircase and stared up at the painting of Grace that hung above the stairs.
Chelsea rubbed her temple and continued going down the stairs.
She heard a laugh.
A woman's laugh.
It wasn't Mary.
It wasn't Polly.
It wasn't Ada.
It wasn't Esme.
It wasn't Linda.
And it sure as hell wasn't Grace.
Chelsea felt inside her night gown and cursed silently when she realised she had left her gun upstairs.
She grabbed the vase beside her and held it up, walking towards the giggling.
It was coming from her father's office.
Chelsea took one deep breath before pushing her way inside.
The duchess was stood at Tommy's death.
Chelsea breathed heavily, "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Your dad made me stay." she smirked, "He put a nail in my tyre so I couldn't leave."
Chelsea bit her inner cheek and turned around, pinching the bridge of her nose, "That fucker."
"You shouldn't swear in front of a Duchess." Tatiana said, "It's not right."
"Neither is taking advantage of a man who's just lost his wife but here you fucking are!" said Chelsea, throwing her hands up in the air, "Where the fuck is he anyways?"
"Sleeping." said Tatiana, "I found your mother's perfume. I say mother but she wasn't really your mother was she?"
"The fuck did you just say?" Chelsea said, turning to face the woman, "No, what the fuck did you just say?"
"I see through you." said Tatiana, tilting her head, "I can see straight through Chelsea Shelby. Hurt. Cold. Dead."
"Shut up." said Chelsea, the image of holding her own gun to her head came rushing back.
