The Husband She Abandoned

Grandfather

The sound of birds chirping woke Benjamin early the next morning. For a long moment, he lay still, letting the unfamiliar comfort of the mattress sink in. No springs digging into his back. No thin blanket that barely covered his feet. The sheets smelled of lavender, and the morning light filtering through the curtains was soft and golden.

He turned his head and looked around his room. Everything was exactly as he had left it. His books were still on the shelf, arranged in the same order he'd always kept them. The photograph of his mother on the nightstand, her warm, beautiful smile was still there, clear and not even gathering the slightest film of dust.

'This must have been grandpa's doing.' He thought fondly.

He reached out and touched the frame, then pulled his hand back.

This was his room. His real room. The one he'd grown up in, the one he'd left behind when he'd gone undercover. Being back felt strange, like wearing clothes that felt like they belonged to a different person. But it also felt like coming home.

He pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cool beneath his bare feet. He dressed quickly, choosing simple clothes from the wardrobe that still held his things, and made his way downstairs.

A maid appeared with a cup of coffee, which he accepted with a nod of thanks. He took the warm mug and stepped out into the garden.

The grounds were just as he remembered them, overgrown in places where his grandfather's arthritis had made it difficult to tend, but still beautiful. Roses climbed the trellises, their perfume heavy in the morning air. A fountain burbled softly near the cherry blossom tree, and bees drifted lazily from flower to flower. Benjamin breathed it all in, letting the peace of the place settle into his bones.

He spotted his grandfather standing over a short gate. The old man was tossing pieces of bread to the ducks that flocked around, squaking and fighting for the morsels. He spoke to them affectionately, murmuring soft words like they were his children. Benjamin smiled.

He took a couple of steps forward, and when his foot kicked a pebble on the ground, His grandfather slowly straightened and turned, using his hand to shield his eyes from the morning sun.

Benjamin knew the exact moment the old man recognized him. There was an audible gasp, and the ducks were abandoned.

Benjamin walked into his grandfather's embrace and held him close, careful not to squeeze too tightly. He could feel the old man's thinness beneath the layers of his clothes, a reminder of the year they'd spent apart.

He pulled back and stared at the beloved, wrinkled face that radiated with happiness.

They embraced once more, then separated and walked to the table at the base of the purple hibiscus tree. The old man leaned heavily on Benjamin's arm as they walked, and Benjamin felt a pang of guilt. He'd been gone too long.

"You little rascal," his grandfather scolded affectionately as they sat down. "You had to have Grandpa send them to bring you back here, or else you would not have returned?"

"Don't scold me too much," Benjamin said, bowing his head in mock submission.

A maid appeared with a tray of tea and snacks, which she arranged on the table before curtsying and leaving the men alone.

His grandfather stared at him, scrutinizing the features before him. He sighed softly. The boy looked so much like his little girl. Every time Benjamin visited, the resemblance hit him like a physical blow. He could only wish that Anya could see how her little boy had grown.

"Look at how skinny you are. Don't they have food where you are?" The old man said finally.

When Benjamin shrugged noncommittally, his grandfather's concern deepened. He wondered what his grandson had gone through. It had been so long since he'd seen him, and every time the boy returned, he seemed a little more worn, a little more haunted.

The old man felt deep sorrow, as he always did when reminded of his daughter's untimely death. She had been cut down in the prime of her youth for no reason, and despite his best efforts, he had not been able to find who had harmed her.

Sometimes, when Benjamin looked at his grandfather, he saw the ghost of his mother in the old man's eyes, the same shade of grey, the same gentle warmth.

He remembered her laugh, sweet and unrestrained, the way she'd ruffle his hair when she was proud of him. He remembered the scent of her perfume, something floral and light, and the way her hand had felt in his.

And then he remembered the sound of the gunshot.

He pushed the thought away.

His grandfather had never spoken of that day directly. But Benjamin knew the old man had spent years trying to find answers. Private investigators. Bribes to the police. Reaching out to contacts in the underworld. Nothing had ever come of it. The case had gone cold.

That was why Benjamin had gone undercover. He needed access. He needed people to underestimate him. He needed to find the truth on his own terms.

"Enough of your worrying about me," Benjamin said, forcing a lightness into his voice. He looked carefully at his grandfather. "How are you feeling, Grandpa? You don't look too bad for an old man."

But the signs of aging were unmistakable. In just one year, his grandfather had aged drastically. The sturdy, strong presence Benjamin remembered now looked older, a little stooped and grey. The old man's hands shook slightly as he reached for his teacup, and his movements were slower than before.

It was hard to see him that way. It made Benjamin feel guilty.

He knew, without being told, that he was part of the reason his grandfather had aged so rapidly. His obsession, his refusal to let go, was aging the old man before his time. But he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop.

"Better now that you're here," the old man said with a bright smile. Then he turned serious. "You are back this time, aren't you?"

"Why don't we focus on the fact that I am here right now?" Benjamin said evasively. "I cannot tell what the future holds for me yet."

His grandfather wisely chose not to pursue the subject. He knew he would have to be content with the fact that Benjamin was here. What mattered most was that his grandson was alive and safe.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, sipping their tea and sitting together just like they used to before Benjamin had decided to move out of the house. The quiet was interrupted by the sound of the gate swinging open.

Shortly after, Edward appeared before them and bowed curtly to the old man, then to Benjamin.

Edward was a tall, lean man in his late forties, with a face that gave nothing away. He had served the Quinn family for over twenty years, and Benjamin had never seen him lose his composure, not even when Benjamin had announced he was leaving. Edward had simply nodded, said "I understand, sir," and helped him pack.

Today, however, there was something in Edward's eyes, relief, perhaps, or gratitude. He met Benjamin's gaze briefly, and Benjamin saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward before the mask slipped back into place.

"Good morning, Mr Quinn. Good morning, Mr Hart."

"Good morning, Edward," Benjamin said. "What brings you here this early in the morning?"

"I asked Edward to prepare a party to welcome you back," his grandfather explained, ignoring Benjamin's glare.

"A party? I don't want a party."

"You have no choice in the matter," the old man said, a note of finality in his voice. "The elites will come and see my runaway grandson, they all think I'm lying about having one.."

Benjamin opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. He could see the stubborn set of his grandfather's jaw, there was no winning this argument.

But perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing.

He'd spent a year in obscurity, working as a delivery rider, living in the Cook house, playing the role of a pauper. It had given him access, yes but it had also made him invisible. Invisible to the people he needed to watch.

If he stepped back into the light, if he re-emerged as the heir to the Quinn fortune, it would make him a target. But it would also give him resources. Connections. The kind of information that didn't come to a man in a delivery uniform.

And the publicity might not be such a bad idea. He had remained in obscurity for a year, and it had yielded results. And maybe it was time to use his family's influence and power to use those results he had gained.

"Fine," he said at last, with a heavy sigh. "I will not object to your party. But don't expect me to enjoy it."

His grandfather nodded, satisfied.