[center]┏━━━━━━━━━┓[h1]Regina[/h1]┗━━━━━━━━━┛[/center]

Bailey trailed after Regina like a shadow, her gaze vacant as they prepped the guest house. The Blackstone Manor staff had maintained the accommodation well enough, but Regina needed something to preoccupy her mind. Layered, nervous chatter echoed as she fluffed cushions and changed bed sheets. She and Bailey moved in silence, save for the occasional instruction, avoiding one another’s gaze. Regina worried that if Bailey looked at her for too long, she’d see the cracks that had begun to form across the surface. The image of her husband, cold and unmoving, atop the undisturbed sheets of their marital bed crept up on her like a thief in the night. As her fingers fiddled with the buttons of a fresh duvet cover, skin uselessly sliding over the tiny buttons, Regina bit down on her bottom lip to prevent the tiny scream from leaving her. How was this utter nightmare her new reality? Not only did she have to digest the fact her husband had been murdered… But she had to look in the eyes of his air-headed PA tomorrow? At a Will Reading? She gritted her teeth. The muscles in her jaw became rigid with tension, Bailey shooting her nervous glances as they finished the last of the bedding.

[quote] “[i]Mother, I’m… I’m sorry…[/i]” Bailey’s voice, hoarse and barely audible, broke the silence. “[i]I can’t imagine how hard this must be on you… I can barely keep it together myself…[/i]” [/quote]

It felt as though her daughter were picking at a wound that had barely scabbed over. Regina’s spine straightened and her shoulders became set. She let out an exasperated sigh, wondering how she could even begin to respond. Her soul felt tired. Spent. She could sense that Bailey was trying. Trying to fill the silence? Trying to offer comfort? She wasn’t sure. But she was, indeed, trying. The grieving and emotionally constipated mother swallowed down the knee-jerk reaction to be cutting and dismissive. She folded her arms, watching Bailey pick at the skin around her nails anxiously. 

[quote] “[i]Your Father would’ve wanted us to be smart about this. He would’ve said ‘Control what we can control… Let go what we cannot -‘“[/i] she faltered, wrestling with the idea of her husband saying anything at all. She wouldn’t ever hear him speak again. An eternal silence. [i]“So we let the Detectives do their job. The sooner they’re out of our way, the better. It’s their job to figure this out. Let them chase theories and analyse the evidence… But, Bailey, I don’t want us saying anything to them beside the need-to-know. You answer their questions but don’t go over explaining or over sharing, okay?” [/i][/quote]

Bailey didn’t feel remotely comforted by her mother’s words, and that much was obvious. She kept her eyes lowered, still gnawing at her fingers thoughtfully. She seemed… Jittery? Shoulders hunched. Chin almost touching her chest. Teeth nibbling at an area on her thumb nail bed that had begun to bleed… Regina arched a brow at her daughter, as if seeing her for the first time.

[quote] “[i]Bailey[/i],” she snapped. Her daughter flinched. “[i]Whatever it is you’re wrestling with internally, I need you to pull yourself together,”[/i] she spoke firmly, her tone cool and almost cutting. “[i]This anxious energy you’re portraying doesn’t come off as grief or shock. It’s unsettling. You won’t last 2 minutes in an interview room with this kind of attitude. I’d recommend getting some sleep…”[/i] she relented, seeing the hurt pinching Bailey’s already plagued expression. [i]“I know you were closest with your Father out of all you kids but… Stop chewing at your nails like you haven’t had a good meal. If you’re hungry, eat something.” [/i][/quote]

And with that, Regina left the room. Something had become even more unsettled within her. Not only had her husband been murdered in the safety of their own home, the police would no doubt be taking a look at those closest to Anthony first. When women were murdered, everyone always said “Look at the husband first.” They’d interpret tears as fake, hesitation as guilt, silence as calculated… The press would have a field day with the Blackstones. As soon as this reached public knowledge, Regina was sure the world would be looking to her. “A gold digger” “A bad mother” “A bad wife” “Lady of leisure chasing the next fortune”… Journalists would say it all, disregarding the need for truth. She perched on the edge of one of the guest beds, clammy hands clasped in her lap. She couldn’t think straight. The constant stream of consciousness that reverberated through her mind was deafening. The same question on her lips would soon become headlines: “Who murdered Anthony Blackstone?”

[right][sub]______________
 10:30am @ Royson & Browne Law
_____________ [/sub] [/right]

Regina had bolted awake that morning before the sun had risen. She’d retired to her bedroom in the Guest House immediately after her conversation with Bailey, deciding that she needed the quiet and seclusion of time to herself. As she sat bolt upright in the foreign bed she’d woken up in, Regina massaged her temples. She remembered how she’d spent her night last night, details feeling fuzzy…

She recalled she’d taken a bottle of good red wine from the rack, a bulbous glass and locked the bedroom door behind her. She found herself scrolling through her and Anthony’s message thread, eyes skimming over the blunt back and forth they usually engaged in. There was a glaring lack of warmth in their texts, no pet names nor “I love yous.” It was all technicalities and scheduling. Mostly Anthony telling her he wouldn’t be home until late. She swallowed back the Argentinian Malbec, enjoying the furry feeling of tannins coating her mouth. Once Regina had seen off half the bottle, something occurred to her. No doubt the police would be sifting through Anthony’s emails and messages, going through them with a fine toothed comb. She gulped.

Opening a new window in the browser on her phone, Regina had typed in her husband’s email address. She stared at the empty box asking her to enter the password. It took three incorrect entries before the page refreshed and revealed her husband’s inbox. 

When the messages flooded her screen, Regina had narrowed her eyes as she’d scrolled through them, wondering what she might find… 

She’d sent for breakfast and a fresh suit to be delivered to the Guest House that morning. Why should the Blackstone staff rest when the family could barely breathe? Regina treated herself to a bath with salts and lavender oil. She’d soaked for half an hour, staring blankly out the bathroom window, a strange numbness polluting her body. She willed the bath to loosen her muscles, to relax the tension that gripped every bit of her. But it did nothing but made her sweat and wrinkled. 

Battling the headache that pounded beneath her skull, Regina dressed herself. Hands trembling, heart beating loudly in her chest against all odds. Last nights discoveries in Anthony’s inbox had her moving like a ghost. She headed down the stairs of the Guest House, feet barely registering each step, every movement feeling like her bones were made of lead. She’d called for Anthony’s driver to bring the Sprinter. The family would travel to Royson & Browne together. They had to give at least the resemblance of being a united front. Regina barely spoke a word that morning, her lashes thick with mascara hiding bloodshot eyes. The Sprinter weaved in and out of traffic on the way to the Attorney Office. Being beyond the Manor hedgerows brought Regina an unsettled feeling she couldn’t shake. She looked thin beneath the tweed material of her suit, the picture of a hardened grieving wife. A haunting beauty.

Royson sat at the head of the table, his offices modern and clean. He greeted Regina with a somber nod, shuffling papers in front of him. She took slow steps to a seat in the centre of the boardroom-like table, eyes lowered. The Blackstone children joined her, seats gradually filling. A few pain staking minutes dragged by in silence, the air thick with words unspoken. When the office door swung open, Regina scrunched her nose at the scent of vanilla perfume that she recognised from her late husbands collar.

Kayleigh Waters breezed into the stagnantly professional office with a mixture of defiance and seemingly forced sadness. Regina could barely look at her, a sickness bubbling in her stomach that made her want to dive across the table and pummel her husbands PA with the nearest blunt object. Kayleigh’s peroxide blonde hair was freshly curled, pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Her skin glowed bronze from a recent holiday and gold hoops dangled from her ears. She didn’t seem to share the immense discomfort of the Blackstone family at her presence. In fact, her chin was lifted defiantly as she scanned the room. 

[quote] [i]“Sad how it takes a tragedy to get family all in one room together, isn’t it?”[/i] Kayleigh said, her nasal tone licked with sarcasm.[/quote]

Regina’s head shot up as if she’d been slapped clean round the face. She gave Kayleigh a withering look, her fingernails digging into the wood of the table. Her teeth gritted, Regina cocked her head.

[quote] “[i]Well, this room does not solely consist of family,”[/i] Regina retorted, shooting Anthony’s PA a pointed look. [/quote]

Kayleigh fell silent, her lipglossed lips pressed firmly together as if to trap anything further coming out. A deathly silence fell, each of the Blackstone family members looking round as Ryland cleared his throat. The lawyer, to his credit, seemed unphased by the exchange. Instead, he tapped his stack of paperwork on the table as a signal that he’d be beginning the reading. The children were about to finally find out exactly how much had been left to them… And it seems so would Kayleigh.