Forget me not [Yandere Family x Reader]

Chapter 6 - eye to eye

As Warren Windsor excused himself for an urgent meeting, the vast expanse of the mansion beckoned me to explore. Deciding to wander the opulent halls.

As I strolled through the richly adorned corridors, I spotted Julian in a room filled with vintage books. The ambiance was quieter here, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the rest of the mansion. The air seemed charged with a contemplative energy as Julian perused the leather-bound volumes, his fingers delicately tracing the spines.

"Quite the collection," I remarked, joining him in the room.

Julian looked up, his eyes reflecting a combination of surprise and curiosity. "Oh, yes. These books have been in the family for generations. Each one tells a story, not just in the words but in the way they've weathered time."

I nodded, appreciating the sentiment. "Your family's history seems to be deeply woven into the very fabric of this place."

"It is," he acknowledged, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "These walls have witnessed joys and sorrows, triumphs, and tragedies. They hold the echoes of the past, resonating through the present."

As we continued our conversation, Julian opened up about his own perspective on the family dynamics. "Leonard and Stefan, they're like two sides of a coin. Emotional depth and stoicism. I've often found myself navigating the middle ground, trying to bridge the gap between their worlds."

"I can imagine that must be quite a balancing act," I remarked.

He smiled wistfully. "It has its challenges, but it's also what keeps the family dynamics interesting. We're a unique blend, each one contributing in our own way."

But his gaze avoids mine, refusing to meet my eyes.

I can understand if I'm bothering him. With that in mind, I decided to step back and leave, but as I did, he quietly murmured, "Just as caring."

Returning to the room where I'm staying, I opt to give Jasmine a call.

"Hey, how's it going rubbing elbows with the wealthy?" Jasmine asks.

"It's pretty strange. Either I'm getting scrutinized as I've risen from the dead or completely ignored," I reply.

"That's got to be awkward."

"But here's the kicker... I caught a glimpse of Scarlet, the deceased wife of the old man, and she's a dead ringer for me, right down to the way she smiles. It's eerie."

"That does sound strange."

"Rich folks in general are peculiar. You know what they say: money only amplifies real issues."

"True. I guess I'll just tough it out, wait for the results, grab the cash, and head back home."

The anticipated three days of waiting felt like an eternity within the confines of the Windsor Mansion. An air of suspense lingered, and as the moment arrived for the doctor to unveil the results, an unexpected turn of events cast a shadow over the proceedings.

In the opulent study, the doctor shuffled through papers, his expression growing increasingly perplexed. "I seem to have misplaced the results," he admitted with a furrowed brow.

Anxiety tightened its grip as the realization sank in. The brothers exchanged glances, and Warren Windsor's face bore a mask of feigned concern.

"How could this happen? We need those results," he insisted, his tone echoing a sentiment that seemed more like a performance than genuine worry.

"Wait, what?"

"It seems I'm going to have to redo the process, and we'll have to wait another three days," the doctor announced, leaving me standing there in shock. I glanced at them, and Stefan wore a smug expression as if he had expected this, while the other two looked genuinely baffled.

"Oh my god," I sighed.

"It'll be fine, Y/N. I'll just double the money," Leonard reassured me.

Reluctantly, I agree.

I retreated to the vintage room, seeking a moment of solace away from the unsettling atmosphere that now permeated the Windsor Mansion. I texted Jasmine the change of plans when a maid came in, she took the clothes I had and put them into a basket.

"I suppose you should be on your way," a maid remarks.

"Nope, the doctor lost the results," I sigh, collapsing onto the bed, which was exceptionally soft.

"Oh, the family doctor?" she inquires. "I'm sorry if I'm prying. My name's Rosey Anne."

"Well, Rosey, I guess so... I mean, my friend back at the diner is handling it alone, and I kind of feel bad," I explain.

"Which diner?" she asks.

"Velvet Sunrise Eatery," I reply.

"Oh, my family loved that place. We used to go there all the time."

"Yeah, before the town died down, and now we're lucky to get five customers," I lament.

"So what are you worried about? A break-in?" Rosey suggests.

"Oh, please. The most a robber would get is the nickel I found while taking out the trash. At most, they'd die of boredom," I joke.

"Interesting. This place seems unchanged, filled with either old-timers or the embittered," she chuckles, and I feel myself relax.

"I'm Y/N, and believe me, as soon as the DNA results come in, I'll be out of here," I assert.

"Yeah, but..." Rosey starts, then hesitates, biting her lip.

"But what?" I prompt.

"That doctor is known for being competent. He doesn't just misplace crucial things like that," she remarks.

"Well, maybe I just have bad luck."

"Maybe," she murmurs while tidying up the room.

Lost in thought, I recline on the bed, pondering how someone could misplace something so significant.

A knock on the door breaks my concentration. "Come in."

"Miss L/N," a gruff voice said. A guy, presumably Stefan, walked in, exuding an air of importance.

He dressed entirely in black, his hair slicked back, and his skin exhibited a rich chestnut tone, almost glowing with radiant mahogany hues.

"Since you'll be spending more time with us, Father suggested that each day you spend time with one of us," he informed me.

"Oh, okay."

"Also, there's a change of clothes in the closet you can wear, anything other than those rags," he said, gesturing towards my current attire.

"There's nothing wrong with my clothes!"

"Everything is wrong with your clothes. Just wear the ones hung up in the closet and try to coordinate with ours."

"Fine," I huffed.

He rolled his eyes as he departed. "So tiresome... just like her."

If I had a dollar for every time I heard that,

As I walked towards the closet, its creaky door revealed a trove of old, but surprisingly elegant garments—each piece exuding a timeless charm reminiscent of vintage finds that one might be fortunate enough to discover at a hidden gem of a garage sale.

Eager to wash away the day's troubles, I stepped into the shower, letting the warm water cascade, attempting to cleanse myself of the lingering worries that were meant to have dissipated by now. 

Emerging from the bathroom, I slipped into a set of well-worn lavender pajamas from the assortment, the fabric carrying with it the soft echoes of years gone by.

As I settled under the covers, the subtle scent of aged linen enveloping me, I could have sworn I heard the door creak open, introducing a hushed undertone to the silence of the room.