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glass-dahlia · 2 years ago

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Dangerous Game

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~9.2k

Warnings: swearing, use of y/n, descriptions of/mention of violence and murder, mentions of possessive/toxic relationship/stalking, a Loki reference enjoy, (please hear me out here) pregnancy but it's not the focus of the story and is like mentioned and brought back at the end, vomiting, based on the Zodiac Killer (I mean no disrespect to the actual victims of this case; I did change parts to fit the story), (let me know if I missed anything)

Summary: Coping with the fact that the man you're engaged to is a murderer isn't exactly made easier when you're trying to solve the cold case of your mother's murder. (Technically the Sequel to CSI:KFC, but could be a stand alone ig?)

A/N: I maybe named the killer in the story after the guy that sexually harassed me for like two years so cheers! (Fuck him) Different last name though, couldn't be too obvious. Anyways, requests OPEN!

Masterlist

“So you just didn’t find it important to mention that mom wasn’t just sick? That she was murdered and you couldn’t solve the case?” you frantically pace back and forth in the living room of your dad’s home. He watches from the couch.

“You were young, it was the best thing to do at the time, Y/n,” he’s got a decent point there. Not exactly fun to explain murder to a seven-year-old.

“Ok, but why wouldn’t you tell me when I was older?”

“Well, uh, I honestly didn’t think it would come up.”

You sigh and shake your head.

“It has so what else can you tell me?” you sit down in the armchair that’s facing the couch.

Blanc shrugs slightly, “Not much, I never solved it. I suppose my grief impaired my judgment. You’re not really thinking of reopening the case, are you?”

“No, dad. I’m just asking about the unsolved murder of my mother for shits and giggles,” you say with a deadpan expression sarcastically.

Blanc sighs. “You’d best ask someone else for the information on the case. I’m afraid I can’t be of much help.”

You nod slightly, “I’ll look into it.”

“Y/n… as clever as you are, I should warn you that I wasn’t the only one that tried to solve the case. No one was able to figure it out. Don’t get your hopes up too much, I don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t work out.”

“Encouraging… but I’ll stay realistic, thanks, dad.”

You give your dad a quick hug before you head out. He follows you to the front porch and watches as you hop in the Beemer. You wave ski as you pull out of the driveway and drive off, heading back home.

🔍🔪🔎

Once you’ve gotten settled back in at home, you set out a dish of kibble for Dodger. He’s seemed a bit down in the past few days since Ransom was arrested. He’s being held in pre-trial detention, his trial isn’t for a few months. You still haven’t been able to convince yourself to go visit him. It’s just been difficult to cope with the fact that the man you fell in love with is capable of such things. Part of you can’t help but wonder if you got into a fight, would that be his solution?

Dodger lays his head on your knee as you sit on the couch once he finishes his kibble. You pet his head, scratching behind his ear.

“I don’t know what to do, Dodger. I still love him, but he kind of scares me. I don’t know if he’s who I thought he was… would I even want to marry someone that’s just going to go to jail for life?”

Dodger just wags his tail, still enjoying being pet. You sigh, missing having someone else to talk to in the house.

You look at the coffee table in front of the couch. Your engagement ring is laying on a stack of coasters in the center of the table. You’ve left it off since Ransom was arrested.

Your thoughts begin to wander back to that day as you stare at the ring. You get lost in your thoughts so much that you almost don’t hear the front door unlock. Almost. You tense and quickly move to the kitchen to be out of view of the front door. Dodger follows you and sits next to you as you hide behind the counter, listening silently as the doorknob twists. You hear heavier footsteps walk in as the door closes once more.

“Y/n?” a very familiar voice rings out, “Did you miss me?”

“Ransom? What the hell? How are you here?” you stand up and look over at him, resting your right hand against the counter.

“My father paid bail, it’s not that complicated,” he shrugs.

Dodger runs over to him happily, easily recognizing Ransom’s voice. Ransom smiles slightly and kneels down and pets Dodger, scratching behind his ears gently. You watch, trying to comprehend everything and quickly trying to sort out all your feelings.

“So you’re on house arrest?”

“No, I just have to show up for the trial. Apparently I ‘don’t pose a significant flight risk’,” he repeats the phrase he’s clearly heard before, using air quotes.

“So why are you here?”

Ransom glances over and stares at you for a second. You can see in his eyes that the question hurt him slightly, not that you intended it to.

“Why am I at our house? I don’t know, maybe to see my fiancée before I end up in jail for fifteen years?”

“That’s the penalty?”

“Second degree attempted murder is five to fifteen years, Y/n,” you stay silent and don’t look at him as he speaks, “Y/n?” Ransom notices your face suddenly looking slightly pale.

“I feel sick,” you mutter, quickly turning and making your way to the nearest bathroom. Ransom rushes after you and holds your hair back and out of your way as you get sick.

“I didn’t know seeing me would make you sick, I just thought you’d yell at me for a bit,” Ransom chuckles lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

You shake your head slightly.

“Stomach flu or something,” you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear.

His smile drops slightly as he realizes you’re not in the mood to be cheered up.

“You were fine earlier, I don’t think sudden nausea is a stomach flu.”

“I said ‘or something’ so I guess it’s the ‘something’ then,” you shrug slightly. Ransom grabs a damp washcloth to clean your mouth. You reach over to take it, but he lifts it, holding it just out of your reach.

“I have to prove I’m not a total ass, don't I?” Ransom kneels down and gently turns you by your shoulders, making you face him. He cleans off your mouth as his eyes dart around your face, taking in every detail again. He tosses the washcloth in the sink once he finishes, to be dealt with later.

“Why?” you look up, making eye contact with Ransom.

“Why do I have to prove I’m not an ass?”

“No, why did you… ya know… kill him… try to.”

Ransom sighs and doesn’t look away from you even for a second as if he’s scared you’ll disappear.

“I was high and upset and wasn’t considering what I was actually doing. I just acted out, it’s not like I planned it in advance. That would make for some much worse charges.”

“Charges? That’s what you’re concerned about? Not the fact that you’re an attempted murderer? That you wanted to kill your own family? What if it happens again? What if you decide that I’m next? What then?”

“No, Y/n I didn’t mean that, I’d never hurt you-”

You shake your head and just walk out of the bathroom before he can finish.

🔍🔪🔎

You lay with your back to Ransom as he sleeps that night. You’re just not feeling tired. Part of you feels unsettled having your back to Ransom, now knowing what he’s capable of. The other part doesn’t want to face him because you just don’t want to face the reality of it all. No matter what he’s done, you can’t help but love him. And you’re just going to lose him for probably 15 years. You sigh lightly and decide you’re uncomfortable so you roll to your other side, not facing Ransom. You just watch him sleep peacefully. He seems so gentle and harmless like this. Maybe he isn’t all bad. Maybe you could forgive him. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll still marry him.

You’ll have to revisit that idea another time. Your eyes slowly close as you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

🔍🔪🔎

In the morning, you’re sitting on the couch with Dodger next to you. You have the news on in the background as you flip through a book you’ve been reading for a few days. You don’t pay much attention as Ransom sits next to you, placing two mugs on the table in front of you both.

“I thought you might want to relax, so here’s your (coffee/tea/hot drink of your choice), and I’ll make breakfast when you’re hungry,” Ransom speaks softly, really trying to get you to talk to him. You appreciate the effort, you’re just not sure how you should handle all of this.

“Thanks,” you reply quietly without looking at him.

Just before Ransom can speak again, your attention is drawn to the news story. A boy and girl in their late teens were killed in a parked car. Both shot. Tragic, but that’s not what grabbed your attention.

“Investigators believe these murders may be linked to the unsolved murder of-”

You had wanted to let it go, you deserve a break after all.

Ransom looks over at you, “Isn’t that…?”

“My mother? Yes…”

🔍🔪🔎

“Excuse my language, but what the actual fuck?” you stand in front of Lieutenant Elliott’s desk very peeved.

“I don’t think ‘excuse my language’ counts if you follow it with-” Trooper Wagner tries to add from his chair in the office before being silenced with a dismissive wave of your hand. Apparently you’re scary when you get really mad, a factor that has certainly been used to your advantage.

“Y/n, it’s a sensitive case, we don’t know if this is anything yet or not. We’re just following some leads and trying to solve this case, we haven’t followed up on the idea that it’s connected to your mother’s case,” Elliott responds calmly.

“Ok, then I’ll look into it.”

“Y/n, I really think you should just step back and let the police handle this.”

“No, I’ll take the case as a private investigator. If my father could solve Harlan’s suicide, I can at least try to solve this.” You continue snapping at Elliott.

“Yeah, so how’s that going for you? Still getting mad at people and trying to kill them?” Wagner jokes, looking at Ransom who’s just awkwardly leaning against the doorway like a child that was dragged to their parent’s office party.

Ransom looks over at him and keeps his face emotionless, deciding to mess with him. “It varies from moment to moment,” Ransom states.

Wagner looks slightly horrified, thinking Ransom is serious. Ransom smirks slightly as you look over, noticing the sudden unusual silence from Wagner.

“Ransom, be nice,” you give him a slightly exhausted look.

“What? It was a good joke,” he defends himself. You just sigh and turn back to Lieutenant Elliott.

“Please just help me, I want to solve this as much as you do. Just keep me in the loop, let me know if there’s anything new and I’ll share anything I find.”

The lieutenant sighs and nods, “But if I get in trouble, this was your idea.”

“Deal.”

🔍🔪🔎

You sit on the couch, looking through the notes Elliott gave you on the case. Ransom is sitting next to you, watching you silently because he knows you don’t like to be interrupted when you get focused. You glance over at him, feeling his gaze on the side of your face. You can’t stop a slight blush from spreading across your cheeks.

“You want to know what’s here, don’t you?” you ask, knowing that Ransom just knows not to distract you. He nods and smiles slightly, proud that you know what he wants from a look.

You look back down at the notes. “Well, it was two teenagers… they were in a parked car, no one was around so they were probably there to… ya know…. anyways. The female was in the front seat, shot by a 9mm Luger apparently, the male was outside the car, probably trying to get help, but he was found dead, shot by the same gun,” you clear your throat slightly as the reality of the horrible situation sinks in. “A man called the Police Department and told them about the murder, claiming that it was him… and… that he was the one that killed my mother as well… they uh… couldn’t track the call, so it could be fake.”

Ransom rubs your back gently. You lean into his side slightly, just in need of comfort. Everything he’s done wrong just seems to slowly be slipping away from your mind in this moment. You just think back to all the good times you’ve had and how desperately you want them back. Just you and him together without the fear of him being taken from you for years.

“What are your theories?” he asks quietly, not wanting to press you when you’re emotional, but unable to subdue his curiosity.

“Well… if the call was real, he’s killed three people with about 18 years between… not unreasonable if he’s older, maybe 40s. It doesn’t seem like there’s an obvious personal connection between the caller and any of the victims, so my guess would be a serial killer… there will probably be more cases popping up.”

“Is this safe? If this guy is still out there, what if he goes after you? I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n.”

You glance at Ransom slightly, reminded of how much you missed how sweet he could be. “I guess it’s a possibility, but I won’t be the only one taking that risk, the police are openly trying to catch him too.”

“Then I’ll help you. Maybe I can like get inside this guys head, I could be a serial killer, so maybe I could think like him.”

“Don’t say that,” you look at Ransom seriously, slightly hurt.

“What?”

“You’re not a serial killer, Ransom. And you never will be and you couldn’t be. That’s not who you are.”

He goes quiet, not knowing you were so upset about his situation. He assumed you’d be glad to see him go and move on quickly, but maybe he was wrong. He leans over and kisses your head gently.

“I’m sorry,” he states quietly as he rests his forehead against the side of your head.

You blush slightly at the attention, “I know, just don’t go saying stuff like that.” He nods slightly.

🔍🔪🔎

You lay awake in bed that night. Ransom is sleeping on his stomach next to you with his face buried in his pillow. His arm is draped over you protectively. You hold his hand, gently running your thumbs over every detail of the back of his hand as your mind wanders through the case. You can’t stop trying to think of something that could give you even the slightest push forward. Your mind feels like a blank slate. Maybe you’re overthinking and need to try from a new angle.

You get so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even notice Ransom wake up, and watch you out of the corner of his vision. That is until he speaks up.

“Y/n?”

You tense slightly, startled by the sudden sound of his voice. You look over at him.

“You know I love you, right?”

You hesitate. You haven’t wanted to confront all these feelings, but you knew you’d have to sooner or later. You were just hoping for later rather than sooner. You nod, “I love you too, Ransom.”

He smiles slightly and pulls you into his side with his one arm. He wraps his other arm around you and kisses your forehead before falling back asleep. He’s the kind of person that can fall asleep the minute his head hits the pillow no matter what’s going on around him. Something you had always envied.

You close your eyes and after at least a good hour of tossing and turning to get comfortable, you fall asleep.

🔍🔪🔎

You wake up early, ready for your usual morning run with Dodger, only to find that Ransom isn’t in bed next to you. You head down to the kitchen where Ransom is grabbing two water bottles from the fridge. He turns around to put them on the counter and he spots you and smiles.

You can’t help but stare slightly at the slightly too tight shirt he has on. Ransom certainly doesn’t seem like the type that would have that level of muscular definition but oh damn is he ever.

“Ready to go?” Ransom asks, walking over and handing you a water bottle.

You take it, slightly confused. “Ready for what?”

“I’m going with you for your run, I want to spend more time with you,” Ransom shrugs slightly.

“Ransom, you spend all day with me already.”

“And somehow it’s still not enough,” he smirks and grabs Dodger’s leash, running out of the house with him.

“Ransom, you ass!” you smile and run after him. You always hated letting him get the last word and he knows it.

You catch up to him and just jump on his back piggyback style, holding on tightly so you won’t fall off. He yelps, not expecting that and almost struggling to stay upright. He holds your legs and slows down.

“I don’t think this counts as a run for you, Y/n,” Ransom chuckles, smiling happily, finally able to forget about his problems and able to focus on spending time with you.

“Well it’s your first morning run so you need to go twice as hard to keep so fit,” you smile too.

You hop off his back and walk next to him. He not so subtly brushed the side of your hand with his pinky.

“If you want to hold my hand, just do it, you dork. I’m your fiancée, I think we’re allowed to hold hands in public by now,” you hold his hand and intertwine your fingers.

“Yeah? You took off the ring, Y/n…” he holds up your hand slightly.

“I… that was a mistake. I’m sorry, I’m putting it back on when we get home. I just don’t want to think about… you know.”

Ransom nods understandingly. He kisses your hand and you continue walking, giving up on actually running.

🔍🔪🔎

You get back inside your house and go to the kitchen to get a cold water bottle as Ransom takes the leash off Dodger’s collar.

You make your way back to the living room, finding your ring on the coffee table right where you left it. You slip the ring back on and get up to go show Ransom.

As you stand up, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You take out your phone and quickly open the new message from the lieutenant. You see a picture of a letter and silently read it to yourself.

Your stomach drops as you read. It’s a handwritten letter with various misspellings, confessing that the writer murdered the teenagers as well as your mother. The letter includes details about each murder that only the police and the murderer would know. Included in the letter was a cipher that the killer was demanding be printed on the front page of the newspaper, threatening further attacks if these demands were ignored. The letter is unsigned except for a symbol. A circle with a cross through it.

Ransom had wandered over while you were occupied with reading and rereading the letter, making mental notes of all the basic words being misspelled such as ‘Christmas’ becoming ‘Christmass’ and ‘Fri’ as in Friday becoming ‘Fry’. Ransom looks over your shoulder and notices the symbol as well.

“What is that?” he asks.

“I don’t know, but I plan on finding that out.”

🔍🔪🔎

Seven days. A whole fucking week and you still haven’t cracked the cipher.

You know the killer wouldn’t be idiotic enough to reveal his identity in it, that would make the police’s job way too easy. It just doesn’t match anything you’ve seen before, nothing you’ve found, just nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Ransom walks over to your location on the couch and places a glass of water on the table in front of you. You sit up slightly and look up at him. He seems less than thrilled.

“What’s up?” you ask, slightly hesitant.

“Y/n, you were up all night,” he states flatly.

You look out one of the many windows of the house, “Oh shit, that’s sunlight.”

Ransom sighs and moves your laptop off your lap and onto the coffee table. He sits down next to you now that your work isn’t consuming you. You lean into him and he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I think you just need a break from your work for a bit.”

“I’m so close, I just need to figure out one word and everything should be able to fall in place.”

“Ok, well… They would probably use the word ‘kill’ wouldn’t they? Maybe look for something that could be that?” Ransom suggests with a slight shrug.

You stare at him silently for a second. “How did I not think of that?!? It seems so obvious now that you say it!”

Ransom chuckles and watches as you slowly start to create a key, deciphering the letter. He smiles slightly, proud that he could contribute to something good and make you happy.

🔍🔪🔎

The next morning, after a surprisingly good night of sleep, you jump out of bed and rush to the bathroom in yet another spell of nausea. Ransom wakes up from the commotion and sighs as he sees you sitting on the side of the tub, trying to calm your stomach with some deep breaths.

“I have to get some groceries for dinner, take it easy, ok?” he changes into one of his many sweaters. You just manage to muster up the strength to nod as you hobble our way to the sink to get a drink of water. Ransom grabs his scarf and coat near the front door and you hear him drive off in the Beemer.

After just standing in front of the sink and staring blankly at your hands for a few moments, the nausea passes and you change into some suitable clothes before heading off to talk to Lieutenant Elliott and Trooper Wagner.

🔍🔪🔎

“This guy is messed up,” Wagner nods to himself as he reads your translation of the cipher.

“He’s murdered at least 3 people, of course he is,” Elliott replies in a slightly confused tone.

“It doesn't tell us his name, just talks about how he ‘likes killing’ and how you’re not gonna catch him, just very gloating. There’s just some left overs at the bottom, I don't know what it means.”

“‘Man is the most dangerous animal of them all’?” Elliot reads part of the translated cipher aloud and something clicks in your memory.

“I know that, I think it’s from a book or something?”

Elliott sighs, “As much as we appreciate you translating this, it doesn’t give us much on where to go with this case, Y/n.”

“I know, I’m just hoping we get something more to work with.”

“So what’s this?” Wagner points out the circles with the cross on the first note with the instructions.

“I’m not sure, Ransom said it looks like the scope of a gun. That thing you look through to aim?”

“But he used a 9 mm Luger in both cases, a scope wasn't used,” Elliott adds.

“I don’t really have other ideas, that was all we came up with.”

“Well, I’ll let you know when we get anything else.”

🔍🔪🔎

You pull back into your driveway where Ransom is already standing in the driveway, only holding one mostly empty paper bag. You get out of your car and start walking over to him.

“So we’re having a light dinner?” you joke, nodding to the bag he’s holding.

“Y/n, we need to talk about it.”

“Talk about what?” you ask, slightly nervously, worried this won’t go well.

“You’ve been getting random nausea spells for over a week and if I’m not mistaken, your period is late.”

“Ransom-”

“Just take the damn test, please? We all know already.”

“‘We’?”

Ransom nods and silently points to himself, then you, then of course Dodger who perks up, hoping to get a treat or to be pet.

“Right, of course.”

“So?”

“What if it comes back positive?”

“Then we talk about it and figure out what we want to do and what you’re comfortable with, it’s your body that has to go through it,” Ransom speaks gently and reassuringly.

You nod slightly, “And if it’s negative?”

“Then we can talk about that too.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

🔍🔪🔎

You were never really a fan of abstract art. Seemed kind of pointless.

You have famous paintings like the Mona Lisa, The Scream, and The Starry Night. Those are all things. Sure, they’re not perfect portraits of what the world actually looks like, but they’ve all got a sense of realism. The Mona Lisa doesn’t have eyebrows, but it’s a person. The Scream doesn’t look as realistic, but you can still see it’s a person. And Starry Night, well it’s a fucking starry night sky. Not all those random colors and shapes, supposed to have some kind of meaning that just makes you feel dumb for not understanding.

You look for that meaning but it feels pointless. A three year old could have made that. Why do people put it at such a high value? Why does this mean so much or even anything to anyone besides the artist?

But shit. You really never did expect two simple lines to have such an impact on your life.

You walk out of the bathroom and just look at Ransom silently, not knowing how to feel. You do your best to keep your face devoid of any emotion. He quickly walks over to you, anxious to know the results. You simply nod and let out a shaky breath, feeling overwhelmed.

He smiles slightly and cups your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours. “Talk to me, Y/n. What do you want to do?” he asks gently.

You close your eyes and remain quiet for a moment. “I really don’t know. I never seriously thought about having a kid, I figured it was far enough down the line that I didn’t have to worry about it. I mean, yeah, I figured we’d have a family together someday, but…” you trail off slightly.

Ransom runs his thumbs over your cheeks. “But I might not be around for a while,” he finishes for you. You nod slightly. A silence falls over the both of you as you just stand there.

“Nine months, right?” you finally break the silence and open your eyes, looking at Ransom.

“What?”

“We’d have a baby in nine months. I think I can handle that. If not, I’m saying it’s your fault,” you break the slight tension in the air, earning a relieved chuckle from Ransom.

“That’s fair,” Ransom concedes.

“Good. Then it’s settled, nine months until parenthood.”

“Nine months,” he repeats and kisses you with pure love and joy.

🔍🔪🔎

Ransom sits with you in an empty room at the station that Elliott and Wagner let you use. You were looking through anything they had on the teens that had been killed. You flip through the police report of the murder. Ransom is reading through any statements given by family and friends, trying to find motive or a suspect.

You stare blankly at the paper in front of you, not processing any of the words. You absentmindedly bite your lip slightly, distracted by some thoughts that had been circling around your head for a few days.

Ransom looks over the top of his papers at you, moving only his eyes and keeping his head stationary. He notices your nervous habit and puts his papers on the table in front of you. “We should talk about it,” he offers and gently taps your leg with his foot.

You snap out of your thoughts and look over at him. “Pardon?”

“Something’s bothering you. Better out than in, come on, spill.”

You hesitate slightly, but know he’s right, “How do we tell my dad?”

“Well, Hallmark has some nice cards-”

You kick his leg and glare at him, trying to avoid the smile creeping onto your lips. He does always know how to make you smile. “I’m serious.”

“Me too! What problem can a nice Hallmark card not fix?”

“Oh, is that how you’re going to win your trial? Get the judge a nice card? ‘After the rain, comes a rainbow. Sorry I attempted to commit murder! Deepest apologies, Hugh Ransom Drysdale’.”

“Do you think that would work? No one has ever tried, we don’t know that it won’t work.”

“Why am I marrying you again?”

“Because you love me and Dodger can’t come from a broken family.”

“Low blow, Drysdale.”

“It’s pronounced ‘well played’, Blanc.”

You chuckle lightly. Since you and your father had made up, you started going by Y/n Blanc again. You still haven’t quite decided if you want to switch to Drysdale officially when you’re married. Not exactly a family name you’d want to carry on. Ransom could definitely agree with that.

“Y/n, he’s your dad. It’ll be ok. When you’re ready, you can visit him, we can visit him, you can call him, whatever you want. I’m here for you.”

You hum lightly in agreement and watch Ransom softly as he speaks. “That’s why,” you state lightly.

“Hm?”

“That’s why I’m marrying you. As much as you like to hide it, you care about others. You always know how to make me feel better. You’re just secretly a softie.”

“Your softie, just don’t go telling the whole world, darling.”

“Never, it’s our secret,” you smile.

🔍🔪🔎

You walk back into the room at the station, a bag of takeout for two in your hand. Ransom stayed to look through files, leaving you to choose lunch.

“Anything?” you ask, taking your seat next to him again and taking food out of the bag.

“Yeah actually, I solved it and found the identity of Jack the Ripper while I was at it.”

“Do you speak anything but sarcasm?”

He glances over at you with a slight smirk as he takes the food you brought for him. “Thank you, Y/n,” he hums happily.

You nod and begin to eat, looking over the piles of files Ransom has sorted through. He notices and looks at the files as well.

“There’s no connection. I mean, it seems like the girl was the target of the murder. Her boyfriend was just unfortunately there and tried to defend her and himself. Just regular teenagers trying to get handsy on a lover’s lane. Brown haired, brown eyed male just under 6’. Y/H/C haired female with Y/E/C eyes…” Ransom trails off as he looks at you, the vague similarity striking him.

“What?”

“Same eye and hair color as you, Y/n. Right around your height too.”

“Ok, and? That describes a good amount of the population on this planet. I promise you we aren’t related in some weird way. It’s just a coincidence.”

“Still, it’s something. Especially if it is connected to your mother, maybe it’s connected to you now? Worth a shot I say,” he suggests with a slight shrug as he eats. As much as you’d like to deny it, he had a point.

🔍🔪🔎

“So if mom was the first victim, which from everything we’ve seen we can assume she is, Ransom was saying that maybe we’re targeted. Maybe I’m targeted,” you explain, pacing slightly in the living room of your father’s place.

“Look, Y/n, Ransom, I get the similarities. I do. But you’re just a few cards short of a deck here. You can’t just go out on such a precarious accusation. And furthermore, you don’t have suspects,” your father stays put in a chair and watches you pace as he tries to stay the logical detective he’s known to be.

“I know, so I need a suspect. If mom was targeted maybe she unintentionally left clues.”

“Maybe we do rule this out and find out it was another one of my stupid ideas, that’s fine. We just want to try,” Ransom snips slightly at your father, earning an exasperated look from him.

“You cannot just run on whatever theory you want. That’s not how this all works. You see, when I got stuck on a case-” your father begins.

“I’ll just go check the attic,” you interject,”her old stuff is still there, right?”

“It is,” your father nods in confirmation.

Without another word, you head upstairs and to the attic to search through boxes. Ransom bites his tongue slightly, trying to refrain from another snippy comment. He huffs lightly, trying to avoid looking at Blanc.

“You’re not doing any good for her with this. She needs to move on, her mother’s death was… it was horrendous. I understand her desire to know the truth, but this cannot just blindly continue. I trust you understand how dangerous this is?” your father speaks up, not looking away from Ransom who still avoids looking back at him.

Ransom just scoffs. “If she wants to try to solve this, you can be damn sure I’ll support her in that. If she fails, I’ll be there to support her in that too. I’m here to protect her for as long as I’m here.”

“And how long is that? You’re facing over a decade of jail time-”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Ransom snaps, raising his voice and looking directly at your father. “Yeah, I’ve done some real fucked up things and yeah, I should pay for those things. But until they drag me off, you can bet your ass I’ll be at Y/n’s side and won’t let a single thing happen to her or our-”

“Hey, I got mom’s old diary,” you hop down the stairs, pausing when you see Ransom looking like he’s seen a ghost and your father in a stunned silence. You glance between the two before speaking up, “Everything ok?”

After a moment, Ransom clears his throat and fixes the coat he never bothered to take off, focusing on his hands. “Perfectly fine, ready to go?”

“Um, yeah, weirdo. I’ll see you later, dad,” you wave slightly as you follow Ransom out the door, hearing another car pull into a nearby driveway. Ransom is already halfway in the Beemer, in a rush for no apparent reason. Blanc just gives you a nod without a word. You shrug it off as nothing important. Men are confusing anyways.

🔍🔪🔎

Ransom stops in the driveway of your house. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door, noticing that Ransom still has his seatbelt buckled and the car is still running. Before you can ask, he answers, “I’ll be back, I forgot to get some groceries the other day. Won’t take long, I promise.”

“Ok, I’ll let you know if I find anything in her diary. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

You close the door behind you and watch as he backs out of the driveway and glances at you before driving off in the direction you came. You head inside.

🔍🔪🔎

Ransom pulls to the curb, stopping the Beemer at Blanc’s. He sighs and grips the steering wheel tightly. He had never been the apologizing type with anyone but you, but he knew you’d kill him for being an ass to your father.

He heads to the front door, feeling like the brief walk up the driveway lasted eons. “Look, I’m sorry for being rude. I think we should talk about some things because I would like to show you I’m worthy of Y/n before I marry her,” he mutters under his breath as he rehearses in the car. He raises his fist and knocks on the door, but hears no response. He groans, assuming Blanc is ignoring him. He knocks again, “Blanc, I want to talk, please!”

No response.

He tries the doorknob, finding it unlocked. As rude as barging in is, something in Ransom sets off alarms, urging him to continue forward. He walks in, ready to call out to Blanc again. The words catch in his throat as he spots Blanc where he last saw him. Sitting in his chair in the living room, his shirt now drenched in blood.

🔍🔪🔎

You walk out of the bathroom to hear your phone buzzing on the counter. You see Ransom’s name and contact picture and smile slightly to yourself, picking up the phone.

“Hey.”

“Y/n, get to the hospital now, I’ll explain when you get here.”

“Holy shit, are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just hurry please. It’ll all be fine, you just need to get here.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Without a goodbye, you both hang up, leaving you to rush to the hospital, head spinning with questions.

🔍🔪🔎

Ransom is waiting for you in the lobby and brings you to the elevator after you check in with the front desk.

“So everything will be ok, but your father was shot.” “What?! Why the hell were you with my father? Who shot him? Why? How did-”

Ransom cuts you off by gently holding your face and making you look at him, effectively flustering you into silence. “I was an ass and was going to apologize. We don’t know who shot him, he was shot in the back at home after we left. We don’t know why.”

You just silently nod. The elevator dings as it reaches the selected floor and Ransom leads you into a room where your father is laying on a bed, just looking bored.

“She’s here,” Ransom states, sitting in a chair away from the bed. You take the chair closest to the bed and sit, looking around and trying to process everything.

“What happened?” you muster finally.

“I do not know. You both left and I heard a window behind me shatter before I was hit. Ransom found me quickly enough and drove me here.”

Ransom just keeps his head down when you look over at him. “Why did he need to apologize?”

“Because I was an ass and picked an argument with him when he just wanted to make sure you were ok,” Ransom states simply and looks over at you, ashamed.

“And he saved my life, I do believe that is an adequate enough apology,” your father states sincerely. You could swear he sent Ransom a slight smile.

Ransom looks back to you. You purse your lips slightly and just nod to let him know you wouldn’t be holding any grudge about this. He sighs in relief but gives you a look, urging you to bring up the undiscussed topic.

Blanc clears his throat slightly to break the silence permeating the room.

“Dad, we need to talk,” you begin, slightly nervous.

“Congratulations,” he nods.

“Yeah, thanks, but seriously. I didn’t expect it, I mean, we weren’t really trying, but-”

“Y/n,” Ransom speaks gently, pulling your mind from your panicked rambling. You look at him for a moment before your father’s response sinks in. You look over at him to see him smiling, slightly amused.

“How?”

“Ransom may have slipped up slightly and I was able to draw my own conclusions,” Blanc confesses. You sigh, too relieved to be upset with Ransom for a slip up.

“And you’re ok with this?”

“Of course, Y/n. It’s your choice and if this is something you’re ready for and want to take on, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, dad. I’d hug you if you weren’t freshly, uh, punctured.” Blanc chuckles at that and Ransom smiles slightly.

🔍🔪🔎

After a bit of time to talk about the newest development in your lives, Lieutenant Elliott walks in, followed by Trooper Wagner of course. You can tell they mean business.

You watch from your new spot in Ransom’s lap as he had moved to your seat earlier to talk, leaving you to sit in his lap. Blanc raises his eyebrows, waiting to see what they have to say.

“I’ll be blunt. Ransom was the last one with you when you were shot and seeing as he’s already going to trial for an attempted murder-” Lietenant Elliott begins, only to be cut off by raised voices of disagreement from you, Ransom and Blanc.

“Why would Ransom try to kill me, only to drive me to a hospital in time to save my life?” Blanc begins. “And besides that, I trust him. Y/n trusts him and that’s all I need.”

“Fine, but I think we should really consider-” Elliott tries again.

“No,” Blanc shuts him down firmly.

After a bit more back and forth, Elliott leaves, tailed by Wagner, deciding against pursuing a case against Ransom for this.

You gently play with Ransom’s hand as a silence falls over the room once more. Ransom is the first to break it, looking over at your father. “You trust me?”

“I wouldn’t have believed it any other day myself. It makes about as much sense as slinging a hammock between two cornstalks. But I do. I owe you at least that after today, not to mention how happy you’ve always made Y/n.”

You smile slightly and gently intertwine your fingers with Ransom and squeeze gently. Ransom rests his chin on your head.

🔍🔪🔎

You flip through the pages of your mother’s diary, scanning everything over once more as you had already read through it earlier. You let out a sigh, closing the diary as Ransom walks in the room. He takes a seat next to you on the couch and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close.

“So?” he asks softly, looking at the diary in your hands.

“She um, she dated this guy. Colin. He um, he seems like a total creep. I think we need to look into him. He was really possessive even after they broke up and she started dating my dad,” you say, just above a whisper. The overwhelming weight of what your mother went through feels like a weight crushing your chest. Ransom just silently pulls you in closer and places a gentle kiss on top of your head. You lean into him, closing your eyes.

You lose track of how long you stay like that with Ransom, but Ransom eventually moves to get up. You sit up, taking your weight off of him and look up at him as he stands up.

“Meeting,” he explains, “with whatever expensive ass lawyers my father hired for me.”

“I should go talk to my dad,” you nod and get up too.

🔍🔪🔎

You walk into your father’s hospital room, diary in hand. You hand the diary off before sitting in the seat next to his bed. After explaining what you read, your father just nods, deep in thought.

“I guess I had tried to put him out of my mind. Colin never wanted to let go of your mother, not easily. Of course he was never a fan of me, I couldn’t even tell you how many threats your mother and I would get from him. If you’re right about this, you could be getting yourself into something much worse than you think you’re ready for.”

“And do you think I could be right?” you ask.

“I do, Y/n. And I’d like to advise you to let the police handle this from here, but-”

“But you know that’s not how I operate,” you smile slightly, earning a chuckle from your dad. “I’ll talk to Elliott about it, they should know I’ve got a potential lead.”

“Be careful with this, if it is Colin, he won’t mess around. To him, you’d just be lasting proof that he failed in trying to keep your mother in his control.”

🔍🔪🔎

“Colin Marilow, he was my mom’s ex-boyfriend. He was really possessive, even after she broke up with him. My dad said he would stalk her and send threats to them both. And, I mean, there was some resemblance between that girl and me, so maybe-”

“Y/n, this is all circumstantial. I don’t know that there’s much we can do. He had no connection to those teens and that’s the case we need to stay focused on,” Elliott states, looking up at you from his seat at his desk. You sigh and sit in a chair in front of his desk, next to Wagner who’s just caught up in the story.

“I get that, but it’s at least something,” you insist, looking at Wagner in the hopes of some support.

He nods along, considering the whole story that’s played out so far. “She could have a point,” he pipes up.

“We can’t just go investigate anyone we want, that would be an abuse of power. There’s nothing connecting him to the teens. I’m sorry, we just can’t do anything. We have other cases we need to focus on and-” Elliott tries to shut your lead down.

“Ok, well, I don’t. I’ll investigate this myself. I’ll call you when I find something,” you snap, walking out of the office before either of them can stop you. You let the door slam shut behind you.

Elliott sighs, leaning back in his chair and running his hands down his face in exasperation. “I can’t keep up with those Blancs, as clever as they are, they’re a lot sometimes.”

“Yeah… something just doesn’t feel right about this, I don’t think we should let Y/n investigate a potential serial killer on her own. If she’s right about this, and I think she might be, she’s the target,” Wagner thinks aloud. Elliott just shakes his head slightly, but hesitates when he considers the increasingly real possibility that your lead is correct and could bring you to danger.

🔍🔪🔎

You stand in your driveway, waiting. Finally you hear the familiar engine and see Ransom pull to a stop in front of you in the Beemer. He gives you a confused look, but you quickly go to the driver’s side window which he rolls down.

“I need the Beemer,” you blurt, wracking your brain for an excuse, “for… errands.”

“Are those ‘errands’ related to a murder case?” he asks, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. You sigh and nod, deciding against more excuses because he saw straight through the bullshit. “Alright, I’ll drive, hop in.”

“I can go alone, Ransom.”

“Or I could go with you and be your backup if you need me. Your knight in shining armor,” he teases lightly as you give in and get in the passenger seat.

“I think I’m the knight in shining armor in this relationship actually,” you tease back with a slight smirk.

“Yeah, I do fit the damsel in distress role better,” he chuckles.

🔍🔪🔎

“I mean, there was only one ‘Marilow’ in the area. Phonebooks can be a wonderful, if not outdated, resource,” you explain to Ransom as he stops at the curb a few houses down from the address you gave him.

“Well, let’s hope you got the right place. If you’re not back in three minutes or I don’t hear from you, I’m coming after you,” Ransom watches you as you unbuckle your seat belt and climb out of the car.

“I’ll be ok, but if that makes you feel at ease, go for it,” you smile slightly as you close the door.

You walk down the road to an unassuming house, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. With blood ringing in your ears, you approach the front door. You hesitantly knock on the door, considering how horrible of a decision this could be. After no response, you knock again, listening more intently for any sign of life inside. Again, nothing.

You’ve come this far. It doesn’t seem like a great time to call it quits. You look around and head to the back gate after seeing no one around. You walk into the backyard and to the backdoor. Breaking and entering is a much easier charge to fight than attempted murder you reason with yourself. Trying the doorknob, the door pushes open easily.

You step in cautiously and look around. You head towards the living room area you spotted from the backdoor.

“Your father was always a nosy asshole too,” you jump at the voice suddenly approaching you. You hear a doorknob aggressively shaking somewhere in the house. In front of you stands Colin Marilow. Just as pictured in your mother’s diary, just aged horribly. Offense intended. “You know,” he continues, “I really tried to help your mother. I told her that he was no good. She just wouldn’t listen, she never did. So I had to take the situation into my own hands.”

“Is that a confession?” you ask, too anxious to move from your spot, but refusing to show fear in your voice.

“For what? Saving your mother from that asshole?”

“That’s not how I’d put it,” you clench your jaw.

“This should’ve all been over earlier. You and that asshole ‘detective’ as he calls himself should both be dead by now. Guess I should’ve finished the job with him, won’t make that same mistake twice.”

Without giving you time to react, Colin pulls a gun on you and fires multiple shots.

Thud.

Your eyes remain closed as your body states tense with the anticipation of a harsh impact of a bullet. Your ears ring from the sound of the shot and rising anxiety of what’s to come. But nothing. It’s been four minutes. Some words are spoken that you can’t make out until the ringing dies down a bit. You hear the gun hit the floor and a struggle. You hear grunts of pain.

“Alright, settle down, you’re coming with us. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” you hear Elliott continue to recite the Miranda warning to Colin as he takes him out in handcuffs.

“Y/n?” you hear Wagner walk over to you and feel him place a hand on your shoulder from behind.

You open your eyes and are greeted to a sight you’d only had nightmares of. Ransom collapsed on the ground, holding his side with a hand covered in blood.

Too in shock to say anything or even to cry, you immediately fall to your knees and move Ransom’s hand, placing your own on his wound and applying pressure. He hisses in pain and his hand instinctively goes over yours to move them, but he stops himself. You keep the pressure and look at Wagner, desperate for help. He just wordlessly nods and jogs outside to wait for the ambulance already on the way as instructed by Elliott earlier.

“Come on, come on, look at me, Ransom. Stay with me,” you plead with a shaky voice.

He smiles weakly and shakily runs his thumb over the back of your hands. “I think.. You were right… I am the damsel,” he musters out weakly.

You laugh humorlessly and look at him softly. “That’s what you’re thinking right now?”

He shrugs slightly and looks away from you, struggling to maintain consciousness.

“Ransom, I’m not losing you. Not like this, not now. Come on, I need you, please,” your voice breaks slightly.

“I’m sorry… for everything,” he says breathlessly.

“No no no, tell me later, it’s ok, I love you, please… I can’t do this all without you.”

He gives you a weak smile, trying to keep his eyes open as you hear sirens coming down the street.

🔍🔪🔎

A few months later…

Not guilty.

Who would’ve thought? Your father pleaded the Fifth, not willing to testify against his son-in-law. Wagner and Elliott followed suit, not believing they could offer an unbiased recount given Ransom’s heroic saving of your life as well as your father’s. Unfortunately, Wagner happened to ‘lose’ the recorded confession from Ransom. Without any evidence, no one could charge Ransom beyond a reasonable doubt and he was ruled not guilty. He wasn’t innocent but he was not guilty.

The trial with Colin was expedited and he was found guilty with an abundance of evidence uncovered as well as a confession to all the murders, including that of your mother. He had attempted to kill your father with that gunshot, but thanks to Ransom, he failed. The teenagers weren’t intended to be the victims, Colin had thought the girl could be you. Ransom was of course there to save you as he promised, taking a bullet for you to protect you. Of course, you wished it never came to that, the image of him bleeding out in your arms is still burned into your brain.

🔍🔪🔎

You get home from running some errands and manage to get the door open despite your arms being full of bags. Dodger runs over to greet you at the door.

“Dude, you’re gonna make me drop something!” you laugh, trying to avoid him. A majority of the bags are taken from your arms, clearing up your field of vision enough to see Ransom in front of you, holding the bags. He smiles at you.

“Finally making yourself useful, huh?” you tease.

“Hey, I was babysitting our child all day while you were shopping and I am recovering from a traumatic injury,” he whines dramatically.

“It’s been months, you’re fine, drama queen. You’ve got a scar, you’ll live,” you laugh and put the bags down in the kitchen with him.

Dodger runs off to sniff at the playpen your baby is in. You watch from the kitchen as Dodger wags his tail, earning a giggle from the baby. Ransom walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and watching Dodger and the baby happily.

You hear the front door open after a quick knock. Three sets of footsteps enter and your father, Wagner, and Elliott walk into the living room where the baby is. You and Ransom walk over to greet your dinner guests.

“Y/n, I just finished your latest book and holy- I won’t spoil it for anyone that hasn’t read it, but that twist at the end? With that hound and the fog? Blew my mind, I never saw it coming,” Wagner excitedly rambles. You decided to have a small dinner party to celebrate your latest book release which had been a huge success. Harlan would’ve been proud.

“Thanks, Wagner,” you laugh happily.

Your father is already holding your baby as usual when he visits and is telling them exciting stories of some of his cases, which were certainly not age appropriate, but they wouldn’t understand yet anyways.

Ransom rests his left hand on the small of your back. You feel the outline of his wedding band against your back and smile slightly to yourself, looking at your own.

“Speaking of my cases,” Blanc begins as he looks over at you causing you to look back at him, “I’m a bit stumped on this latest one. I was hoping for a fresh perspective to help me out.”

“Well, I only work with my trusty partner here,” you send a smile up at Ransom which he returns.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” your father nods approvingly.

#ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans #knives out #knives out fanfiction #murder mystery #fanfic #xreader #sequel #requests are open

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glass-dahlia · 2 years ago

Text

CSI:KFC (Part 3)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~26.5k

Warnings: (Please see part 1)

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

“Y/n, just talk to me,” Ransom begs.

You continue to ignore him, crossing your arms over your chest and watching as Marta centers herself in the doorframe.

Everyone focuses their attention on her. She moves her arms around, trying to find a comfortable stance. Her mouth opens and closes a few times as she anxiously searches for the right words.

“You’ve always been good to me,” Marta begins.

You watch as your father puts on a pair of reading glasses, opening a sheet of paper. All you can hope is that it is indeed the tox report.

“And what I’m about to say,” she continues, “isn’t gonna be easy and you’re gonna be upset. But I thought after what you’ve gone through the last few days, that you deserved to hear it from me.”

Walter hums and shoots you a smug look. You roll your eyes and look back over to your father.

In a few quick steps, he is at Marta’s side and he quickly cuts her off before she can admit anything.

“Excuse me!” he interjects.

The room stays silent and everyone’s attention is drawn to him.

“You have not been good to her,” he states bitterly. “You have all treated her like shit, to steal back a fortune that you lost, and she deserves. You’re a pack of vultures at the feast! Knives out, beaks bloody! Well, you’re not getting bailed out, not this time. Ms. Cabrera has decided, definitively, not to renounce the inheritance.”

“What?” Walt demands, echoed immediately by Marta.

“Furthermore, it will be my professional recommendation to the local authorities that the manner of death in the case of Harlan Thrombey is ruled as suicide! And the case is closed,” your father states.

“Blanc?” Marta, tries to stop him.

“What?” Random questions aloud, looking to you for an explanation on your father’s sudden outburst.

You shake your head, not wanting to try to explain one on one.

“Thank you all for coming. Goodbye,” your father quickly leads Marta out of the room, to her bewilderment, and towards the library. You squeeze your way past Ransom and the rest of the family to follow after them.

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on?” Marta asks.

“Yes,” Blanc confirms.

“I just wanna come clean, okay? It’s over.”

“Almost,” he assured her.

“Blanc, what are we doing? What’s going on?” Lieutenant Elliott inquires.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “Officer Wagner. Keep the family out of this room, and get ‘em out of the house if you can. But stand by with your additional officer.”

“Get the family out?” Wagner asks.

“Yes, but not all of them” your father whispers something to Trooper Wagner. You imagine it has to do with Ransom.

“Blanc,” Elliott calls his attention back, “Come on, come on, what’s all this drama?”

“Indulge me,” he pleads.

“It’s kind of how he works,” you add.

“Blanc, I told Ransom and Y/n, Ransom and Y/n told you, and I’m telling you now, it is an immovable fact that I killed Harlan.”

“Yes, you did, yes, he did, yes she did, yes, you are. But… but I spoke in the car about the hole at the center of this donut.”

“Do you have to relate all your cases to food?” you wonder aloud.

Blanc sighs before continuing, “And what you and Harlan did that fateful night seems at first glance to fill that hole perfectly. A donut hole in a donut’s hole. But we must look a little closer. And when we do, we see the donut hole has a hole in its center. It is not a donut hole, but a smaller donut with its own hole and our donut is not whole at all!”

You squint your eyes slightly.

“Blanc, look, I understand that this is amusing for you-” the Lieutenant begins, only to be cut off mid sentence.

“Why was I hired?” you father asks rhetorically. “Why would someone hire me?”

“Someone fishing for a crime to reverse the will, Blanc. Come on.”

“But I was hired before the sealed will was read. So, yes, the person must have known the contents of the will. But one step further, that same person must have known a crime was committed, and further if the intent was to reverse Marta’s inheritance-”

“They must have known that Marta was responsible,” you finish as your father finishes putting tape over the labels of two bottles.

“An intriguing combination of factors,” your father agrees. “Someone who knew what Marta did wanted to expose it but could not reveal how they knew.”

“Fran!” Marta says, as if it’s the obvious answer. Blanc turns to her, wanting to hear her explanation. “She was blackmailing me. She knew what I did.”

“Yeah, but Fran wanted money,” you reason, “ergo she did not want the crime exposed.”

“What if someone in the family had observed Marta doing something suspicious?” Lieutenant Elliott ponders.

“But they would have had no reason not to speak up,” your father refutes the idea with a sigh, placing the tapes bottles on the table. “The answer is not so simple.”

He sits in the chair in front of the circular knife display. “Now with the entire solution in my field of view, thanks to Y/n, the arc of this case is a tragedy of errors. Marta, it will not be easy for you to hear. But there is at least one truly guilty party behind it all, guilty in the true sense of acting with malice and committing a heinous crime with selfish intent. Trooper Wagner.”

“Trooper Wagner?” Marta asks, shocked.

“No,” you sigh and shake your head slightly.

Wagner walks in, holding Ransom’s arm firmly.

“Marta, I’m so sorry. I told them everything. I figured it was up. I’m sorry,” Ransom apologizes instantly.

You refuse to look at him, your morals beginning to conflict with your heart.

“Hey, it’s alright, Ransom, I’m glad you did,” Marta assures him.

“Not exactly everything though,” Blanc walks over, followed by you.

“Is this about what Greatnana told you? She saw me that night. She mistook me for Ransom,” Marta states in defense of Ransom.

“We’ll get to that. In the meanwhile, Mr. Hugh Ransom Drysdale,” you notice Ransom’s jaw clench at the full name, “you might tell us all why you hired me.”

Everyone looks over in shock except for you. Ransom glances at you, silently asking if Blanc is serious.

“Why I hired you?” he plays dumb.

“You’re right, let’s back it up. To the night of the party. Your argument with Harlan. What were the overheard words by the Nazi child masturbating in the bathroom? ‘My will’ and ‘I’m warning you’. You and Harlan were drama mamas, you shared a love of twisting the knife into one another. You see, I don’t believe he would have slipped it in halfway, no, no, no. I submit Harlan told you everything. Marta, remind me what his conversation with Harlan ended with?”

“Harlan told him that I could beat him at Go.”

“And Y/n pointed that out. Why would the topic of the will have steered around to Marta?”

Marta glances at Ransom. He holds his unreadable gaze on Blanc.

“There is one obvious explanation,” your father states.

“That’s some heavy-duty conjecture,” Ransom replies simply.

“Granted. But it is the only way what comes next makes sense.”

Ransom rolls his eyes slightly, ready to play off your father’s accusations as complete bullshit.

“So you storm out, you drive into the night. You tell Marta and Y/n later, what was it? Feeling an overwhelming sense of-”

“Clarity,” you jump in. “That he had to make do for himself from here on out.”

“Exactly. Marta. The will. Harlan. ‘Do for yourself’. ‘You won’t get away with this’. And a plan forms. You return, careful to avoid the gate’s secure camera range. Then on foot up towards the house, you sneak in up the trellis, so as not to be seen by the rest of the family who are still having their party downstairs. What you need to do will take moments. But it is essential that you are alone and undetected. You knew what medications Harlan took. You knew what Marta would be injecting him with that night. And you knew if Marta was responsible for his death, even unintentionally, the slayer rule would nullify the changed will and you would get your share back."

Ransom keeps a stone face as he looks at your father.

Blanc continues, “You used the syringes in the kit to switch the liquids in the two medication vials. And as a final precaution, you took the Naloxone, the lifesaving antidote.”

“No,” Marta says softly, “no, no, no. That’s impossible.”

“That is the truth,” Blanc defends, walking away from Ransom. “Hand me that goal of morphine, I’ll show you,” he gestures to the two vials that he previously taped over the labels of.

“If he did that, if the meds were switched, then when I got them mixed up, I…”

Marta picks up both vials, deciding on one to hand to Blanc, “I accidentally switched them back, so I gave Harlan…”

“The correct doses. Yes,” your father finishes for her. She hands him the vial.

“But not accidentally. I taped over the label of these two vials.”

Ransom watches from the leather chair he moved to a moment ago. You sit on the arm of the chair and listen.

“The vials themselves are identical.” Your father removed the tape, revealing the labeled bottle of morphine. “How’d you know this was the morphine?”

“I just knew,” Marta speaks, barely above a whisper.

“You knew because there are the slightest, almost imperceptible differences of tincture and viscosity between the two liquids. You knew because you’ve done it a hundred times. You gave him the correct medication because you are a good nurse.”

“Then Harlan was…” Marta trails off.

“I’m sorry, Marta. But yes. Harlan was perfectly fine.”

Marta sits down as she begins to tear up.

“His blood was normal,” your father confirms. “The cause of death was truly, solely suicide, and you are guilty of nothing but damage to the trellis and a few amateur theatrics. In fact, if Harlan has listened to you and called the ambulance, he would be alive today.”

“Damn,” Lieutenant Elliott exclaims.

“A twisted web,” you add.

“But we are not finished untangling it, not yet,” your father insists. Ransom inhales sharply and sits up a bit straighter.

“Marta, when Greatnana spotted you climbing down the trellis, she said ‘Are you back again already?’ Cause earlier that night she had seen Ransom at the same trellis.”

Ransom scoffs and chuckles slightly. “Come on, Marta. This is stoopid with two o’s. You don’t have a shred of evidence, you’re just spinning a fairytale.” He looks to you for support.

You don’t give it to him.

“Not a shred, no. Just as we have no real proof of Marta mixing up the vials, so it’s your word-” your father begins.

“You have her confession!” Ransom cuts him off.

“All right, yeah. Yeah we do have that,” your father concedes.

“Actually, with your permission, I'd like to spin a little further,” you stand up, ready to go all Nancy Drew on his ass.

“No way-” Ransom tries to stop you.

“I don’t actually need your permission. Much later that night, while I was asleep, you’d have to come back to the house to get the tampered vials. However, this time the dogs were outside. You had been laying in bed with Dodger and me so they caught Dodger’s scent and they also just hate you. They barked at you which was what woke Meg. You figured you could get the vials tomorrow.”

Ransom does not look amused.

You keep going, “But tomorrow brings news and not of Marta’s mix up, but of a slit throat. A suicide. I slept in that day, you had the perfect chance to anonymously hire my father. You knew Marta had committed a crime but you couldn’t reveal how you know but you needed her caught. Enter, Benoit Blanc.”

“Y/n, look. I hear what you’re saying, but this-” the Lieutenant begins, only to be shushed by Wagner, apparently your number one fan at the moment.

“The body is discovered the next morning. The police, medical examiner, the family. Everyone swarms in. There’s no way for you to get Marta’s medical bag. You have to wait until the investigation is over and you know the house will be empty. That’s why you missed the funeral. You weren’t sick. You just lied. There was no one home to wonder what you were going into Harlan’s study for. Well, you thought there was no one. Fran saw you messing with the medical bag. She didn’t know what you were doing, but she knew you were up to no good.”

“Oh god… that Hallmark movie she told me about,” Marta realizes, “with Danica McKellar…”

“Deadly by Surprise” Wagner states. Elliott squints slightly and gives him a side glance.

“That’s what she was talking about,” Marta finishes.

“She loved Harlan but hates Ransom. She decided to test her theory and make him pay. She got a copy of the tox report from…”

“Cause she has a cousin,” Marta tells you, “She told me, she has a cousin who works as a receptionist at the examiner’s office.”

Blanc hands the tox report to the Lieutenant.

“The numbers mean nothing to Fran,” you state, “but she knows that if Ransom is guilty, the mere existence of the report would be a threat. She photocopies the header and makes her blackmail note.”

“So why did she send it to me?”

“She didn’t,” Blanc replies. “She sent it to Ransom. When Mr. Drysdale gets it, what is his reaction? Elation. He still thinks Marta has given Harlan the tampered drugs. A blood tox report will prove her guilt.”

You take over, “He went to the will reading in high spirits, ready to see the family tear itself apart. He felt secure in the knowledge that it would all be undone when the tox report comes to light. And then… Marta’s confession. Everything went upside down. Ransom realized that Marta hadn’t committed a crime. The tox report would only prove her innocence. The changed will is going to stand and he’s lost.”

You turn to Ransom and address him, using his own words against him.

“Unless you decide ‘you’re not gonna give up the money’. ‘You’ve come this far’. Just one step further. One last act.”

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” Blanc adds.

“You decide you’re in. Step one, destroy all evidence of Marta’s innocence. Lucky for you, I’m a heavy sleeper. You can sneak out at night. Step two, send her the anonymous email with the time and location of the meeting. Deliver her the blackmail note. Worst hand-me-down ever if you ask me. Step three, keep your appointment with Fran. Now the board is set. Marta gets the note, you put the pieces together for her. When she goes to get her bag, you would’ve made an anonymous call to the police, hoping they’ll catch her there with a body and burned evidence. You planned on Marta getting arrested for the murder of Harlan and Fran.”

“She didn’t say ‘you did this’,” Marta realizes, “she wasn’t talking about me. She said ‘Hugh did this’ cause you made the help call you Hugh. Cause you’re an asshole.”

“And it would’ve worked,” Blanc jumps in, “if we hadn’t have brought you in for questioning so you could not make your anonymous call. And if Fran has not stashed a safety copy of the tox report. And if Marta had not outplayed you once again. By having a kind heart. By saving Fran’s life though it meant her losing the inheritance and going to jail. She didn’t play your game. She saved Fran’s life.”

“Fran’s alive?” Ransom questions, no emotion present in his tone.

“Oh, yes,” Blanc nods, “Fran, who will confirm this very story or something close to it.”

Marta’s phone buzzes. You walk over to listen in on the call with her.

“And send you, Hugh, to jail.”

“Yes?” Marta answers the phone.

The hospital informs you that Fran has passed away. You realize the only way to prove any of this is to get Ransom to admit to it. If you get him to admit, he’ll be convicted and held accountable in court. But… he is your fiancé. Do you really want to do this to him?

“That’s great news, thank you, Doctor,” you say, forcing a smile onto your face. You owe it to Harlan. “We’ll be there soon.” You nod to Marta, begging that she’ll catch on and play along. She looks unsure but turns around with a relieved look.

“She’s ok,” Marta nods with a smile. “She’s ready to talk.”

“Trooper Wagner, if you could, uh, keep Mr. Drysdale in custody while Lieutenant Elliott, Ms. Cabrera, Y/n and myself, we go to the hospital and take Fran’s statement.”

“All right. Up, come on,” Elliott nods for Ransom to stand and he obliges.

Ransom looks over at you and Marta and scoffs lightly with a smirk. He walks over to you.

“I’m gonna say this just to you. No cameras, no courtroom, just you, because you know it’s true. I have done nothing but show you love since high school. And you’re standing here, working against me. I wanted a future for us. Hell, I still do after all this. You’ll need to let me know if you still do.”

He turns to Marta. You take a step away from them, feeling the knot tightening in your throat.

“And you. We allowed you into our home. We let you watch our grandad, we welcomed you into our family. And now you think you can steal it from us? You think I’m not gonna fight to protect my home, our birthright, our ancestral family home?”

Blanc cracks up at that last part. “That is hooey. Harlan, he bought this place in the ‘80s from a Pakistani real estate billionaire.”

“Oh, shut up, Blanc!” Ransom speaks over him, causing Blanc to laugh harder.

“Shut up! Shut up with that Kentucky Fried Foghorn Leghorns drawl! Yeah, I killed Fran. But I guess I didn’t. So what do you have on me? Nothing. What, attempted murder? I get arson for the building, and a few other charges. With a good lawyer, which I have, I’ll be out in no time.” he turns his attention to Marta.

“And then you’ll see just how much hell I can wreck on your life, you vicious little bitch.”

Marta tried to choke it down, but her queasiness shows on her face. Ransom gives her a look of confusion before getting vomited on. Right in the face.

“What the shit!” he yells.

Elliott and Wagner move to help the coughing Marta but she holds a hand up to signal for them to stop.

“That means she’s lying!” Wagner shouts in amazement. He’s like a toddler seeing their first magic show.

“Yeah, man, we know,” Elliot grumbles.

“That’s right,” Marta agrees, “Fran’s dead.”

Everyone looks to Ransom.

“And you just confessed to her murder,” Marta declares. Wagner shows his phone screen, still recording audio.

Ransom glances around the room and sighs, shaking his head slightly.

“Well.” He wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “In for a penny.”

Before anyone can react, he grabs a knife from the circular display and lunges towards Marta. She throws her arms out to stop him and everyone moves forward to stop him. You try to grab his arm but miss. Coordination was never your thing. He lands on top of Marta with the knife in the center of her chest.

They just stay on the ground and Ransom gets a look of confusion. He lifts the knife slightly and you hear a loud squeak. He pushes it back down a few times, watching the fake blade retreat into the handle.

“Shit,” he states simply.

Wagner and Elliott quickly lift him off of Marta, immediately taking him to Wagner’s car in the driveway.

Marta lays on the ground, holding the fake knife and trying to calm her breathing.

You watch Ransom leave, holding the engagement ring in your hand, rather than wearing it.

🔍🔪🔎

Ransom’s trial is coming up soon. His father hired a big time, expensive lawyer to defend him. You had been asked to be a witness for the defense. They’re trying to use voluntary intoxication as a defense. Ransom admitted to taking ecstasy at the time of the party. They could use that to say he was “unable to form an intent to commit a crime therein” or whatever.

Thinking back, you should have noticed earlier. The night he came home after the party he was acting odd, you thought he was just drunk but he didn’t smell like alcohol. After a bit of research you could identify a few more effects.

Sweating, emotional warmth and empathy, restless legs. At the will reading he was in especially high spirits and not just from knowing the family would be told they’re losing everything to Marta. After Marta confessed to both of you, he acted oddly. Apparently mixing alcohol and ecstasy can cause dehydration. That explains his extreme thirst and loss of consciousness.

All in all, probably not a bad defense. Might lessen the charges at the least.

You walk into the police station. Elliott and Wagner had given permission for you to see the case files on Ransom’s case due to how personal it is for you. A female looks up as you enter. She gives you a kind smile and you naturally gravitate towards her, not sure what to do and feeling too anxious to ask just anyone.

“Hi, um, I was told I could see some case files?” you mess with your hands behind your back nervously.

“Ah, yes, I was told to expect you today. Last name?” she looks down at her computer, waiting for you to give her the last name of the person you’d like to see the case files of.

“Blanc,” you reply, misunderstanding her and thinking she’s asking for your last name.

She types that in and nods for you to follow her. You do and she leads you into a private room while she goes to grab what you need.

You sit in one of the chairs at the table in the small, empty room. It probably would creep you out if you weren’t at the police station.

Before long the woman comes back and places a box on the table, giving you a kind nod as you thank her before she leaves.

You take a look at the box.

“Cold case,” you read the stamped marking quietly to yourself.

Ransom’s case isn’t a cold case, they have all the evidence they need and it’s going to trial in about a week.

You open the box to see their mistake. You had given the wrong name. Instead of receiving everything on Ransom Drysdale, you had received everything on your mother.

‘She died in the hospital. Natural causes,’ you think to yourself. That's what your dad told you. You find the death certificate and scan it over quickly.

Manner of death: Homicide

Cause of death: Multiple stab wounds

“Dad… why would you lie?” you quietly ask aloud.

As one mystery leaves your life, another always presents itself. But this time, it’s personal.

Dangerous Game (the sequel)

#ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans #knives out #knives out fanfiction #fanfic #xreader

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glass-dahlia · 2 years ago

Text

CSI:KFC (Part 2)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~26.5k

Warnings: (Please see Part 1)

Masterlist | Part 1

You pace back and forth quietly in the kitchen. You snuck out of the bedroom without waking Ransom and Dodger.

“So… you switched the Morphine and the Toradol… so you gave him 100 milligrams of Morphine but didn’t have the antidote?” You repeat back to Marta.

“Yes. And Harlan came up with the whole plan to get me out of it then he… he-”

“I know, it’s ok. You did it for your family, I understand.”

“So you won’t tell?”

“Of course not, you’re my friend and it’s what Harlan wanted.” You organize the mail Ransom left scattered on the counter as you speak, arranging it into a neat pile to occupy your hands.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/n, I owe you,” Marta says, clearly relieved.

“You don’t owe me anything, think of this as my thanks to you for all you did for Harlan.”

You hear Marta release a breath she had been holding. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, wrapping up your conversation that had lasted about an hour.

“Bye, Marta.” You hang up the phone and look at the time. Two a.m.

You head back up to your bedroom and lay back down, pulling the blanket up to your chin. You stare at the wall across from you with your back to Ransom, going over what happened to Marta in your head. As you’re lost in your thoughts, you feel two strong arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Trouble sleeping?” Ransom asks, sounding tired.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you put your hands on top of his, crossing your arms over your stomach to do so. “I’m ok now.”

“Alright, night, Y/n,” he replies, voice gravelly slightly as he leans over and kisses your shoulder gently.

“Night Ransom…” you trail off as you feel sleep taking you over once more.

🔍🔪🔎

You stand next to your father as he whistles, waving to show Marta where to park. You walk inside the small ‘security’ shack with him, followed by Marta.

The guy in charge of security, Mr. Proofroc, greets you and shows you all inside.

“Fifty years ago, I worked this estate,” he states, putting a picture of the house on the fridge with a cherry shaped magnet. “You know, security back then was such that you had to make the rounds with a 94 and keep your ears open.” He chuckles as does Blanc. “Now you’ve got all this modern technology. That’s the video there,” he states, showing you all over to three old TVs as well as a VCR, “I saved the tape from that night. Normally, I erase ‘em with a magnetic degausser, but in this case, I thought I’d just save it, you know? For security. Now, uh, that’s a live feed there.” Mr. Proofroc points to one of the TVs and Marta seems to go slightly pale.

You decide to not mention it, knowing it must have something to do with when she pulled off the road to execute her and Harlan’s plan. You look over to see your father very focused on the task at hand, finding evidence.

“All right, well, can we see the actual tape?” Lieutenant Elliott requests, starting to get slightly impatient.

“Well, of course you can,” Proofroc says kindly and sincerely, “I recorded it SSLP. There’s eight hours in that tape. 9:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m.” He hands the tape to Marta and she inserts it into the VCR. She presses play and a second screen turns on, displaying the recording. It’s exactly the quality of video you’d expect from a VCR player. The screen jumps around slightly, all glitchy-like.

“Looks like a Japanese horror movie, are we all gonna die in seven days?” Trooper Wagner comments, making you chuckle softly.

“You think we could scan forward on that?” Blanc leans down to ask Marta.

“How can we scan forward?” Marta asks Mr. Proofroc.

“Oh, yeah, just hold the play button down and press FF until you hear it grind.”

The VCR starts whirring as it scans forward. Everyone focuses on the TV.

“All right, should be coming up now to the time when the party ended,” Wagner states.

You glance down at Marta and subtly point to the eject button on the VCR. Just before it gets to the party’s end, the VHS tape ejects causing the screen to show static.

“What happened?” Marta asks, feigning confusion.

“Oh, you gotta keep holding it down or else it’ll eject. That thing eats tapes like popcorn,” Proofroc responds. You smirk slightly, proud of yourself for successfully helping Marta.

“You think your guys can digitize this so we could scan it properly?” you overhear your father asking Elliott and Wagner.

“Yeah, I think we can do that,” Wagner affirms.

You grab the tape and slip it into your coat pocket.

“Got it,” you nod to your father.

“Back to the house then,” he says, leading the way. Everyone follows him, you stay at the end and grab one of the fruit magnets on the fridge on your way out.

Proofroc says he erased the tapes with a magnetic degausser, hopefully this will work the same.

🔍🔪🔎

You all walk through the woods, leading up to the house. As you pass animal statues, Trooper Wagner decides it’s the perfect time to display his nerdy knowledge.

“You know, all these statues that you see around here? They’re all straight out of the series, The Menagerie Tragedy Triology. Pretty cool.”

“Awesome,” Lieutenant Elliott says, clearly not finding it very awesome.

“Yeah,” Wagner says, not comprehending Elliott’s unimpressed tone.

“Benny, it’s beautiful out here, but do you really think someone broke into the house and murdered Harlan? Is that why we’re out here?” Elliott just seems some with everything today, doesn’t he? And since when does anyone call your dad ‘Benny’?

“Oh, it is unlikely, but if they did, there will be traces,” Blanc answers.

You notice Trooper Wagner has fallen back and is walking next to you as Marta continues to lead the way. You glance at him, knowing he has something to say.

“Uh, I can hang onto that,” he says, pointing to the VHS tape you have in your hands.

“Sure,” you hand it over, carefully slipping the magnet into your pocket so no one will notice. You’re just praying that worked.

Blanc eventually starts humming as you keep walking.

“Hey, Wagner, you got any luck on… Uh, what’s-his-name?” Elliott inquires.

“Ransom?” Wagner guesses. Your head snaps up as you hear him mention Ransom, but you stay silent.

“Yeah.”

“No. Did get an address though. 10 Kenoak Street.”

Do they really not understand that you literally live with him? You glance at your father and he seems to be thinking the same thing. You both shrug it off and keep walking.

Your father repeats the street name as Marta stops ahead of you. You stop next to her and she gestures to the footprints she must have left when she came back that night. You nod for her to keep walking and she reluctantly does with you following close behind.

Wagner makes a comment about the leaves and mud messing up his boots, drawing your father’s attention to the fact that there’s mud.

“Did it rain the past week?” He asks aloud. He suddenly seems to realize that there could be evidence in the form of prints. “No, stay there!” he demands, “We got footprints here, so, uh… I wanna, um…”

Looking up, Blanc realizes you and Marta are farther ahead and trampling the potential evidence. “Marta! Y/n! Stop-“

“What?” You call back, turning around to him at the end of the path.

“Uh, just stay there you two,” he attempts to instruct you.

“What? I couldn’t hear you-”

“No, stay there- no, no, no!”

“Did you call me?” You ask once you get back to him. He sighs in defeat. Elliott and Wagner continue ahead, carefully avoiding the muddy path and staying on the leaves.

“Wagner, we’re gonna need to call the boys, have ‘em come down here, take a look at all these tracks. Get it taped off,” Elliott instructs, telling you all to stay on one side of the path.

Just then, Harlan’s dogs run through the muddy portion of the path and over to you and Marta. They excitedly wag their tails in greeting and bark happily. Marta pets one as the other sniffs you, smelling Dodger on your clothes. You smile and pet them affectionately.

“Best judge of character is a dog. I’ve found that to be true,” your father states.

The dogs run off towards the driveway as Linda and Richard get out of their car.

You check your phone for the time.

“I have to go, I took the Beemer so I need to go get Ransom. I’ll be back,” you wave to Marta and your father as you jog off, carefully avoiding the path this time.

🔍🔪🔎

You pull the Beemer into the driveway to see Ransom our front in his coat and scarf with Dodger in a matching white sweater, running around happily.

Once the car stops completely, Dodger bolts over, sniffing you once you step out.

He wags his tail, noticing the scent of other dogs.

“I betrayed you, I’m sorry,” you dramatically apologize, leaning down and kissing his head.

“No kiss for me?” Ransom chuckles jokingly.

“Geez, give a girl a minute, will ya?” you walk over to him and hug him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “You look ready to go already.”

“I am, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he states happily, still holding you in the hug.

“Wow, for once you’re not late. Shocker,” you tease, earning a laugh from him.

You take Dodger inside and put him in his cage before heading back out to the Beemer and hopping into the passenger seat as Ransom decided to drive.

You watch out the window as Ransom drives. The music stays on a low volume, not interrupting your thoughts on how to help Marta next. The only thing that does interrupt your thoughts is the light thud of one of Ransom’s feet on the floorboard as he bounces his leg.

“Nervous?” You ask, not quite knowing the cause for this odd behavior.

“No, nothing to be nervous for,” he answers complete truthfully and calmly.

“Right.”

🔍🔪🔎

Ransom parks in front of the house and you give his hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance before you both get out of the car.

The dogs run over to Ransom once he steps out of the car and they start barking at him. You know they just smell Dodger’s scent and go into overprotective mode.

“No! No, no, no! Hey! Hey! Hey! Stop. Stop,” Ransom discourages the dogs, dodging as they jump up at him.

“Down,” you say firmly but kindly. The dogs stop and go over, sitting at either side of you. You smile and pet their heads.

“Why do they like you so much better?” Random pouts.

“Probably because I don’t smell like Dodger right now,” you gesture to his sweater. It has small holes and tears in it, caused by Dodger and him playing.

He smiles slightly as you walk over to him, wrapping his arm around your waist once you’re close enough for him to do so. He walks towards the house with you.

Lieutenant Elliott and Trooper Wagner walk out the front door, blocking your path.

“Hugh Drysdale?” Elliott inquires.

“Ransom. Call me Ransom, it’s my middle name,” he responds, taking off his sunglasses with the hand not holding you next to him, “only the help calls me Hugh.”

He keeps walking with you, right past Elliott and Wagner and into the house.

“Okay…” Elliot trails off, slightly baffled by Ransom’s behavior, “Uh, this is uh Trooper Wagner.” Ransom stops walking and lets go of your waist to turn around to them. “I’m Lieutenant Elliott. We just wanna ask a few questions.”

Ransom raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth like he’s about to respond.

Instead, he just sighs and turns back around, wrapping his arm around your waist once more and continuing inside. He takes you directly to the kitchen. Gotta get some snacks.

Elliott and Wagner turn and quickly follow.

“Excuse me? Sir? We’re officers of the law!” Wagner states.

“You gonna run me in? I don’t feel like talking,” Ransom calls from the kitchen, “I’m distraught.”

You pinch his arm, causing him to look at you in confusion.

“Try to be nice, will ya?” You whisper to him, not needing him to make a bad first impression with your father. He sighs and walks back out with you behind him.

“Hey, Benny, you wanna ask this guy some questions?” the Lieutenant offers.

Before Blanc can respond, Ransom interjects, “All right, what is this? What’s this arrangement?”

“Mr. Drysdale,” your father begins, Southern drawl as strong as always.

“CSI: KFC?” Ransom asks sarcastically.

He finds a way to condescendingly eat a cookie as he walks away. Elliott chuckles.

You sigh and walk beside Ransom, entering the sitting room where the rest of the family is waiting.

“Hey, Frannie, how about a glass of cold milk?” Ransom requests, more like orders, as he takes a seat.

You open your mouth to correct him, but Meg beats you to it.

“Hey, asshole. Not her name, not her job.”

“Hey, Meg. How’s the SJW degree coming?” Ransom asks. Jacob smirks slightly, not looking away from his phone. You sit on the arm of Ransom’s chair and smack the back of his head without anyone else noticing.

“Just behave, Ransom,” you mutter under your breath tensely.

“Trust fund prick,” Meg spits back at him.

“All right, guys,” Joni sighs, having enough of the bickering.

“Hey, everyone,” Alan Stevens greets. He’s the executor of Harlan’s will. “I’m just gonna be in the other room, setting up. Be ready in 10 minutes.” He leaves as quickly as he entered.

Ransom holds up a cookie to you as a peace offering and you sigh and take it from him, knowing he doesn’t really mean any harm to anyone. It’s just pointless bickering. That’s what this family is built on.

Walt speaks up, “Funny, Ransom, you skipped the funeral, but you’re early for the will reading.”

Everyone looks over to Ransom and he smirks his playboy smirk that won you over back in high school. It still gets you every time.

“Okay, people grieve in different ways. Let’s not...” Joni tries to defend Ransom.

“Yeah, he was sick-“ you attempt to add before getting cut off by Walt.

“You know what? It’s funny you’re here at all. Why are you even bothering? That’s what I’m asking myself.”

The smirk hasn’t left Ransom’s face.

“What’s the supposed to mean?” Richard asks, getting defensive of his son.

“He knows what it’s supposed to mean,” Walt states simply, looking at Ransom.

“Wait… Walt, what?” Linda questions. Everyone looks over at Walt for a response. You just roll your eyes and steal another cookie from Ransom, already about 3000% done with their bullshit for the day. Ransom takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it, making you blush.

“Jacob was in that bathroom the night of the party,” Walt states, pointing in the direction of a bathroom. Jacob visibly tenses and gets uncomfortable.

Joni chuckles, “Oh, that’s where you were all night?”

“What the hell were you doing in the bathroom all night?” Richard asks.

“Nothing,” Jacob says quickly and defensively.

“Swatting Syrian refugees?” Meg offers sarcastically.

“No, I was not,” Jacob says, getting more defensive and uncomfortable by the second.

“Alt-right troll,” Meg snarks.

“Liberal snowflake,” he mutters in response.

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Walt says, shaking his head in confusion.

“It means your son’s a little creep,” Richard tells him.

“Oh!” Walt says like something just clicked, “My son’s a creep?”

“Hey!” You yip at him. No one insults Ransom in front of you.

“Guys! Just…” Joni regains the room’s focus, “Walt, he was in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, he was in the bathroom,” Walt confirms.

“Joylessly masturbating to pictures of dead deer,” Richard inputs sassily.

You notice Ransom cringe at that, a faint smirk still tugging at his (way too perfect) lips. Linda sighs, just wanting to know what Walt was talking about.

“You know what, Richard?” Walt hits his cane against the ground next to the couch, “You wanna go?”

“You bet, skippy, let’s go,” Richard makes a move over to Walt.

“You wanna go? Come on!”

Meg chuckles and you mutter under your breath to Ransom, “I’d pay good money to see this if they went through with it.”

Ransom chuckles and leans his head against your side. You drape your arm over the back of the chair and absentmindedly play with his hair.

Walt and Richard just get into a petty sissy fight while everyone shouts at them, trying to break them apart. Donna tried to pull Walt away, though he insists he can handle himself.

“Oh, my God,” you hear Joni mutter not so subtly.

Ransom chuckles, “We gotta do this more often.”

He eats another one of his cookies as you continue to mess with his surprisingly yet not so surprisingly soft hair.

“Hey!” Linda shouts, stopping the ruckus, “Jacob. We know where this is going. You were in the bathroom next to Harlan’s office, where he had the fight with Ransom. Now, you heard something. Spill it.”

“I just heard two things. ‘My will’ and then there was more yelling,” he recalls, a smirk slowly forming, “And then I heard Ransom say, ‘I’m warning you’.”

Walt raises his arms in victory. Linda turns to you and Ransom. Ransom just eats another cookie, watching Jacob, his face unreadable but mildly entertained.

“Ransom… What’s that mean?” Linda asks gently.

“I think it means our father finally came to his senses and cut this little brat out of his will,” Walt declares, getting into Ransom’s face. You lean away slightly, no longer playing with Ransom’s hair to his and your disappointment. “So I guess you’re gonna have to sell the Beemer,” Ransom makes a face of serious concentration, pretending to care about what Walt says, “and give your notice at the country club, and kick whatever fashion drug you’re on.” Ransom raises his eyebrows and cocks his head slightly as if Walt is making a good point. “Because if you think that after all the bridges you’ve burned, after all the shit you said, after everything you put this family through for the last 10 years, that any of us are gonna support you, that any of us are gonna give you, like Dad liked to say, ‘a single red dime’, you’re nuts!” he ends up yelling in Ransom’s face at the end.

Ransom inhaled sharply and rolls his eyes slightly, sarcastically mouthing a ‘wow’. He smiles slightly up at you.

“Son…” Richard starts.

“Father.” Ransom furrows his eyebrows, turning his head towards Richard sassily.

Richard sighs, “Did Harlan tell you he was gonna cut you out of the will?”

Ransom throws his hands up slightly, letting them land back into his lap with a light smack. His smirk returns.

“Yep,” he dismisses, popping the ‘p’.

Walt throws his arms up again, dismissing the topic and popping his lips like Ransom did as if it’s proving his own point.

“Well, then he’s done what none of us were strong enough to do. Maybe this might finally make you grow up.”

Ransom narrows his eyes slightly before looking down at his lap and sighing.

“This might be the best thing that could ever happen to you,” Linda says firmly.

“Thank you. My mother, ladies and gentlemen,” Ransom says bitterly, gesturing towards Linda.

“Look, this is not gonna be easy for you,” Ransom tilts his head, giving Joni the ‘you can't be serious’ look, “but it’ll be good. Nothing good is ever easy.”

“Up your ass, Joni. You’ve had your teeth in this family’s tit for a long time-” Ransom begins, voice firm.

“‘Up your ass’? Oh, very nice,” Meg mocks.

“Matter of fact, eat shit. How’s that?”

“Oh, my God, Ransom,” Joni chimes in.

“Please do not use that word in front of my son!” Donna gasps.

“Eat shit. Eat shit. Eat shit.”

“You entitled prick!” Richard booms.

“I would slap that smug smile right off of your goddamn face!”

“Definitely eat shit. Eat shit. You can all eat shit.”

Everyone continues bickering, you sigh, getting up and heading out to the back porch.

You find Blanc and Marta already there. Fran walks past you all in a rush.

“Asshole,” she points back to the house.

“‘I’m warning you’” your father repeats, tossing a baseball in his hand. “Ransom said, ‘I’m warning you’.”

“Well, you heard Ransom in there. That’s the kind of thing he says,” Marta volunteered.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t mean any harm. He’s sweet, really” you say, defending your fiancé.

Blanc tosses the baseball for one of the dogs and it runs off, leaving a piece of painted wood behind.

“What do we have here?” he asks, bending down and picking it up.

Marta looks nervous.

“This looks like a relatively fresh break,” your father states, walking off of the porch. You and Marta follow him. “Yep. Right there… wait a minute. Well, that doesn’t make sense. Where’s that window?”

You follow his line of eye sight, spotting the same window.

🔍🔪🔎

“How about some more cookies, Hugh?! You want some more cookies?!” Walt shouts in Ransom’s face, shoving the bag in Ransom’s face as well.

“That’s great. That’s great,” Ransom replies, unamused, “and it’s not like it’s the end of the world, Y/n has her books, we’re not broke.”

You smirk slightly, hearing that as you run past the room with your father and Marta.

Wagner and Elliott are both fixated on the scene in front of them. They force their attention away, deciding to follow your three instead.

🔍🔪🔎

Marta shows you all to a hallway upstairs.

“Show me. But stay off the carpet,” Blanc instructs Marta.

Marta presses herself against the wall, slowly moving to the end of the hallway.

She grabs hold of the paneling and carefully opens it without touching the carpet, revealing the window.

“It’s the trick window from A Kill For All Seasons,” Wagner says, nerding out once again.

“Trooper, here, will you take this?” your father requests, holding the piece of wood out to Wagner. Blanc gets down onto the ground and takes out a pocket magnifying glass, looking closely at the carpet.

“Hmm… traces of dried mud. I suspect they go the length of the hallway,” Blanc narrates aloud.

“Footprints?” Marta asks, hiding her nerves.

“No, just traces.”

“Yeah, depending on when this thing was last cleaned, this could have been at any time, right?” Elliot speculates.

“No, that would not explain this,” you reply, pointing to a bit of mud left on the windowsill. You bite your lip slightly, realizing that might help them find more evidence against Marta, but they would’ve found it either way. The sleigh in you couldn’t help it.

“Analyze that mud,” your father instructs, “it will match these traces. And you will find similar samples leading up the trellis on the outside of the house. On the night of the party, somebody who did not want to be heard climbing up those steps, went to a great deal of trouble to break into Harlan Thrombey’s rooms.”

“The game is afoot,” you mutter to yourself.

You all walk into the room where the will is to be read. The library. Same place you were all questioned in. Ransom sits in the back, away from everyone since he has been written out of the will. You walk over to the chair next to him, ready to sit.

Ransom hums in disapproval, causing you to tilt your head slightly in confusion.

He smirks slightly and you catch on. You go over to his chair instead and sit on the arm of the chair like you did earlier in the sitting room.

“Better?” You ask, smiling slightly but trying to hide it.

“Almost,” Ransom wraps an arm around your waist and tugs slightly, pulling you onto his lap instead. He rests his chin on your shoulder, watching boredly as the will reading commences.

“Well, thank you all for getting together like this,” Alan begins, “it isn’t legally necessary, but I thought since you’re all in town and some of you are leaving soon-”

“Excuse me,” your father interrupts him quickly, gaining everyone’s attention. “Uh, I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to gently request that you all stay in town until the investigation is completed.”

Joni looks at him as if she’s been offended in some way.

“Yeah, well, he’s gently requesting, but I’m gonna have to make that an order. No one move until we figure this all out,” Lieutenant Elliot declares.

“What?” Linda asks, slightly shocked.

“Can we ask why? Has something changed?” Joni questions.

“No-,” Blanc states firmly, opening his mouth to continue.

“No, it hasn’t changed? Or no, we can’t ask?” she specifies.

“Mr. Stevens,” Blanc addresses him, ignoring Joni, “you may continue.”

“Right. Well,” Alan picks up where he left off. Everyone looks at each other in shock. Ransom doesn’t seem to care. He just starts playing with the chess board next to the chair, trying to occupy himself.

“The other reason I thought this gathering would be, uh, beneficial is because Harlan altered his will a week before he died,” Linda and Richard turn to look at Ransom as Alan says that. You look up at a bookcase to avoid eye contact. Ransom gets bored of the chess pieces and starts playing with your hair instead. Alan continues, “He sealed it. He asked me not to submit it to the courts for probate until after his death. So, if anyone is confused about anything, we’re all together, we can talk. Although, I don’t imagine any of it is going to be that complicated.”

You look back at everyone in the room. They all seem to be getting antsy. They know what they want and they all expect it.

Oh, what you wouldn’t give to see their smugness stripped away. To see them realize that they’re not entitled to anything because of their ‘birth rights’ or whatever shit they’d claim it is.

“Uh, Harlan’s assets included…” Alan trails off, looking over the sheets. His assistant points to something on the sheet.

“The house,” she states.

“The house,” he repeats, “which he owned outright.”

Linda reaches over and grabs Richard’s hand, giving it a squeeze. You know she’s always wanted this house. Makes sense though, it is a lovely house. It’s like living on a Clue board.

“60 million.”

“Yes. 60 million in various cash amounts and investments.”

Joni nods. That’s her goal, of course. Without Harlan’s financial support, you don’t know what she’s gonna do. Some small part of you wants her to get at least some of it. At least for Meg. She’s intelligent, witty, and a hard worker. She deserves to go to a nice school for a solid education, you don’t want her to lose that because her mom can’t afford it.

“And of course, the real asset, sole ownership of Blood Like Wine. His publishing company,” Alan adds.

Walt and Donna hold hands. You’re praying deep, deep down that Harlan changed something, anything. Anything to prevent Walt from taking over the publishing company. If Walt takes over, there’s next to no chance that he’ll keep publishing your works. Harlan always kept him in check, but without that, he’ll burn your bridges faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.

You shake your head slightly, your father’s countryisms are getting to you.

Ransom chuckles lightly at your odd behavior and just continues to mess with your hair, twirling a small strand through his fingers.

“He also wrote up a statement when he was making the changes and he wanted that read first.” Alan grabs another piece of paper and reads aloud, “‘Dearest

Linda, Walter, and Joni… Some of you may be surprised by the choice I’ve made here. No pleasure was taken in the exclusion. And it’s purpose was not to sow greater discord in the family, quite the opposite. Please accept it with grace and without bitterness, but do accept it, it’s for the best. Dad.’”

Alan’s assistant hands him an envelope. He carefully opens it with a letter opener. You feel Ransom shift his position slightly as he leans forward, suddenly very interested in what’s happening. He gives you a quick peck on the cheek before Alan reads the will.

“Umm… wow. Well, yeah, not too complex at all. This will be quick,” Alan states, looking at the single, one-sided piece of paper. Linda chuckles. “‘I, Harlan Thrombey, being of sound mind and body’ and yada-yada-yada… ‘I hereby direct that all my assets, both liquid and otherwise, I leave in their entirety to Marta Cabrera’” Alan looks up, and everyone turns to look at Marta.

“‘My entire ownership of Blood Like Wine publishing, I leave in its entirety to Marta Cabrera, the copyright of its catalogue likewise I leave in its entirety to Marta Cabrera.’”

Ransom smirks as those words seem to sink in for everyone. He lets go of your hair as you get up, already sensing another argument.

Everyone starts to stand up.

“Uh… no,” Walt states firmly, clearly shocked. “That’s not… no, that can’t be.”

“No,” Linda agrees firmly.

“Can I see that Alan, please?” Alan hands the will to Walt so he can see for himself. You slowly walk over, unable to stop a sly smile that creeps across your lips.

“This can’t be legal!” Linda argues.

“It’s right…” Walt confirms in shock.

You can hear Ransom start to chuckle. Everyone starts to argue that there has to be a mistake and that it’s unfair, causing Ransom to crack up even more. He smacks his thigh as he starts to break down laughing, getting up and leaving the room, still laughing joyously.

You watch him leave and slowly walk over to Marta. She looks panicked. Must be a lot for her to take in. You hug her, still overhearing the family arguing. Now they’re blaming it on his medications.

“Alan, you can take this piece of paper and shove it right up your ass, and get out!” Linda shouts aggressively. “And, you cops, too, out. Out! Right now.”

“Linda,” Richard tries to calm her down.

Trooper Wagner turns to leave, but Trooper Elliott stops him and they stay put.

“No, Richard, we need to talk. We need to fight this thing. We’re not going anywhere.” Linda notices Elliott and Wagner haven’t left, “I said get out! We are the Thrombeys God damn it! This is still our house!”

She freezes and everyone slowly turns back to Alan. His assistant points to the paper for him to answer the unspoken question.

“Oh, sorry. ‘Likewise the house at 2 Deerborn Drive and all belongings therein, I leave to Marta Cabrera.’”

“Oh no…” Marta breathes out. You pat her shoulder, not sure of what else to do.

“Oh, you little bitch! You little bitch!” Linda berates her. Richard tried to stop her, but fails completely. “Did you know about this?! Were you in on this from the beginning?”

Your father moves protectively in front of you and Marta to block you from the family. Everyone tried to calm Linda down but it seems to enhance her outrage.

“No, no, no!” she snaps, “I just wanna know. What were you… what were you doing? Were you boinking my father?!”

“’Boinking’?” Meg laughs aloud and you chuckle slightly.

Everyone restarts their shouting.

“I think everybody just needs to cool their jets,” your father suggests, trying to diffuse the situation, but of course failing.

“You had sex with my grandpa, you dirty anchor baby!” Jacob shouts viciously. You scrunch your nose at the rude name. That boy needs some help.

“Now hold your horses!” Your father turns to you and Marta, speaking to Marta,

“And in the meantime, I’d maybe run.”

Marta starts walking down the hallway, but Walt notices and calls out to her for her to wait.

Blanc tries to block the doorway to buy Marta some time. You stand with him to help, but you can’t do much and they get past you after a moment. Everyone runs to follow Marta, all throwing questions and comments at her simultaneously. She tried to stay calm through her tears, not understanding what’s happening and needing time to think. Jacob live-streams the whole thing.

You watch from the porch with your father as she climbs into her car, attempting to start it. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel in defeat when her efforts become futile.

Just then you hear the familiar engine rev of yours and Ransom’s Beemer. He honks and waves to her, telling her to hop in the car with him. After a second of hesitation, she quickly runs into the car and shuts the door as Ransom turns the car around, lowering his window.

“I think this could be the best thing to happen to all of you!” He shouts mockingly before driving off.

“Ransom!” You shout after him to no avail. He’s too far away to hear you and the engine is too loud.

“What does he mean by that?” Richard asks as Joni shrugs in defeat, walking back inside with Meg.

“Richard, why didn’t you stop her?” Linda questions in annoyance.

“What am I supposed to do? Grab the bumper with my teeth?”

Your father watches the car drive off thoughtfully. You sigh, “There goes my ride.”

“He’s certainly something, Y/n,” your father comments. By his tone you can tell he clearly doesn’t think highly of Ransom.

“First impressions are always the worst, right?” you smile slightly nervously.

Your father returns a slight smile and chuckles.

“That’s the man I’ve chosen to spend the rest of my life with… and he just left me here without a ride…” you purse your lips.

The only people left outside are you and your father.

“We all have struggles,” Blanc reassures you.

“We do… Do you miss her? Do you… ya know… still think about her?”

“Every day. You look a lot like her.”

You smile and look down at your feet, proud to share a resemblance with your mother.

“Go get him.” Your father pats your shoulder.

“He took our car, I can’t really…” you trail off, noticing that Marta left her keys in her unlocked car. You give your father a quick hug before jogging over to the car and hopping in, turning the engine on after a few tries.

You think of all the places they could have gone. Not Marta’s place, Ransom doesn’t know the address. Not your house, Ransom’s family knows the address. Probably somewhere public. It dawns on you. You shift the car into drive and head off in the direction of your favorite restaurant that Ransom and you always go to.

Blanc watches you drive off as he shoves his hands into his coat pockets. He sighs, feeling internally conflicted.

On one hand, you’re clearly very happy with Ransom. You love him and he very clearly is head over heels for you.

On the other hand, something in the back of his mind keeps itching to look into his suspicions of Ransom.

🔍🔪🔎

You park next to the Beemer once you get to the restaurant.

Walking in, you spot Ransom and Marta in a booth in the back corner. You head over towards them, luckily avoiding any social interactions with staff along the way. Socializing is definitely not your forte.

“Y/n?”

Ransom looks up from his hands folded on the table when Marta speaks.

“Hey.”

You sit next to Ransom. After a moment he instinctively wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. You toss the keys to Marta’s car on the table, letting them slide over to her. She takes them, putting them in her jacket pocket.

“How’re you doing, Marta?” you tilt your head slightly as you ask her, keeping your voice gentle.

“It’s a lot. I don’t know what to think, honestly.”

“That’s ok, you can have all the time you need, don’t listen to any of them. You’re the one in charge now,” you smile slightly. Ransom talks to the waitress as you focus on Marta. Marta nods, looking down. Her face is slightly pale.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out. Have you eaten anything today?” Ransom asks her. She doesn’t respond. “Eat.”

He pushes a plate of food towards her, wrapping his arm around your shoulders once more.

Marta sighs before grabbing a fork.

“This is a nightmare,” she states, eating a forkful of food.

“Mhmm,” Ransom hums in agreement, nodding slightly. “So why?”

Marta shakes her head slightly, looking at her food, “Why?”

“Why?” Ransom repeats as you lean into him more.

Marta takes another forkful of food and glares slightly at Ransom.

“Hey. This is everything.” Marta nods slightly and you look up at Ransom as he speaks. “There’s gotta be a bigger reason why, and you know it.”

“Well, how about it had to do more with you guys than with me?”

Ransom stays quiet, watching Marta for a second as he lets that sink in before replying.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

The waitress comes over, placing an empty bowl on the table. Ransom glances over and notices you doing the same. He pulls you closer to himself to distract you from trying to figure out his plan.

“Did he tell you anything?” Marta inquires.

“Only that I wasn’t getting a cent.”

“That’s because he wanted you to build something from the ground up,” you state.

“Like your mom,” Marta adds in.

“‘To build something from the ground up’. Yeah, my mother built her business from the ground up with a million-dollar loan from my grandfather. My father owns none of it. She made him sign a prenup.”

Marta slowly continues eating. You place your hand on top of Ransom’s to keep him calm.

“He lives in fear. And I know that’s what my grandfather was trying to protect me from by doing this and I know I shouldn’t say this out loud, but when he told me, I…” he shakes his head slightly and purses his lips, “Jesus. I coulda killed him.”

Marta looks down and you gently run your thumb over the back of his hand in reassurance.

“After I left the party though, I was driving. Nowhere, just in the night, and I had this, um… clarity. Like, from here on out, I was gonna have to fend for myself. And that felt… good.”

Marta nods slightly.

“The old bastard,” Ransom mutters.

Marta sighs.

“Marta, I know three things,” Ransom begins. You hold back from making a sassy comment and teasing him.

“One, I know he didn’t commit suicide.”

You look over to Marta and notice her trying to hide how nervous she is.

“What makes you think that?” she asks calmly.

“I don’t think it. I know it. Because I knew my granddad. Maybe you, Y/n, and I were the only three who knew him so you’re not gonna bullshit me on this because two… I know lying makes you puke. ‘Cause of that mafia game last Fourth of July.”

You shudder slightly at the memory. Ransom clicks his tongue and gently kisses your temple.

“And three, I know you just ate a full plate of baked beans and sausage,” Ransom finishes, his Boston accent coming on strong when he says ‘sausage’.

Marta looks down at her mostly empty plate, looking calm but really pissed off at Ransom. You glance at the empty bowl that’s been sitting at the table and realize Ransom’s plan. He’s actually pretty smart. You have to give him that.

“So,” Ransom moves Marta’s plate of food away and the empty bowl towards her, “look me in the eye and tell me what happened to my grandfather.”

Marta shakes her head slightly in disbelief, “You asshole,” she whispers.

You glance between them, not sure who to side with. On one hand, what Ransom has forced Marta into is pretty cruel and unfair to her. You know her story and don’t want her to get in trouble for a little mix up.

On the other hand, you’re engaged to Ransom and should probably side with him on basically everything. Though, what fun would that be?

“Marta, tell me everything.”

Marta sighs and hides her face in her hands. You reach over and gently rub her arm.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’m not going to let him do anything stupid, I promise,” you reassure her.

“When have I ever done anything stupid?” Ransom asks, slightly offended.

“How many examples do you want? I keep a list. Alphabetical order,” you pull out your phone, going into your notes to let the countless pages of your list load.

🔍🔪🔎

“Alan, there have got to be options here,” Walt insists.

“No. I don’t know how many times I can repeat the same two pieces of information. If Harlan was of sound mind when he made the changes, and we all confirmed that he was-” Alan tries to justify.

“Would a sound mind do this?” Richard asks, voice raised. “How… sound how?”

“The very action speaks to unsoundness,” Linda declares as if she’s won the argument.

“Not legally. No. You not liking what he did does not speak to testamentary capacity,” Alan retorts calmly.

“What about undue influence?” Jacob asks, looking up from his phone.

“Yeah! Undue influence, how about that, huh?” Walt asks excitedly.

“Did you just google that?” Alan asks doubtfully.

“Look, if Marta was manipulating Dad somehow and if we found out that somehow she was...” Walt trails off.

“If somehow, she had gotten her hooks into him…” Linda adds as Walt speaks, both of them approaching Alan before they’re interrupted by him.

“You need a strong case for that. ‘Your Honor, she endeared herself to him through hard work and good humor.’ That won’t cut the salami.”

“What about the slayer rule?” Joni questions, holding her phone. “I did just google that.”

“The slayer rule obviously doesn’t apply here,” Alan states.

“Well, what the hell is the slayer rule?” Richard asks Joni.

“Well, it’s if someone is convicted of killing the person, they don’t get their inheritance,” Joni replies.

“Not even convicted. Even if they’re held responsible for their death in civil court,” Alan clarifies.

“Like O.J.?” Walt questions.

“Yes, like O.J.” Alan answers. “But Harlan committed suicide.”

The same thought seems to dawn on everyone as they slowly turn to the man in the arm chair beside the crackling fireplace behind them all.

“Detective Blank? You said the investigation is ongoing. You made a point of that. Do you suspect foul play?” Joni inquires.

“Mr. Blanc, if you please,” the detective corrects her pronunciation. “There is much that remains unclear, but yes, I suspect foul play.”

Joni inhales deeply.

“Marta?” Richard asks quickly.

“I have eliminated no suspects.”

Richard sighs. “You’re full of shit. I don’t trust this guy in the tweed suit. And, Alan, God bless you, you’re useless.”

“Thank you.” Alan gets up from his spot on the couch, relieved to finally be able to leave.

“There’s only one answer to this. She has to renounce the inheritance,” Richard says.

“She knows it’s what she should do. It’s the right thing to do,” Walt reasons.

“That’s exactly what she should do,” Linda agrees.

“It’s the moral thing,” Richard adds as Meg walks away slightly.

“Mom,” Meg waits for Joni to walk over to her before continuing, “If Granddad wanted to give Marta everything, then that’s what he wanted.”

“No,” Joni shakes her head, “This wasn’t him. He loved us. He wanted us taken care of. He wanted you to have an education.”

Meg furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head slightly in disbelief at her mother’s behavior.

“Meg, you think I can pay for your school?” Joni scoffs slightly, her voice shaking as she walks back to the family. Meh watches in disbelief, letting it all sink in.

🔍🔪🔎

You look down at the table. There’s four empty beer bottles, a few empty plates and Ransom is already having another drink. You’re definitely driving home. Marta had told you both everything, though none of it was news to you anymore.

“Huh…” Ransom chuckles softly.

“I know. Just saying it, it sounds insane, but it’s all true. And I think Blanc’s been on to me from the start,” Marta looks at you as she says that, causing Ransom to give a look of confusion. He looks down at you, wondering why that would relate to you.

You avoid eye contact, not wanting to lie directly to Ransom anymore. “He probably has, I just don’t know why he hasn’t said anything. Maybe he’s just waiting until he has enough evidence.”

“I don’t care if I go to jail, but my mom, my sister? We…” she looks over at Ransom. He is staring down at the table, absentmindedly chewing at the small black straw from his drink as he thinks. “You gonna say something?”

“I always thought I was the only one that could beat him at Go.” Marta looks at Ransom in confusion. “Always thought that meant something.”

“Um, yeah, I know you did,” Marta replies, looking down at the table, not sure what to really say.

“That night at the party, my last conversation with him… my last argument, that’s what he told me about you. That you beat him at Go more than I do, and I thought… what a strange thing to tell me. Think I get it now. Maybe it did mean something.”

Marta stares at Ransom in disbelief as he clears his throat.

“I’m not gonna tell my family shit,” Ransom states, looking at Marta. “You’re not gonna go to jail. That detective is not gonna catch you. And you’re not gonna give up the money.”

You stay silent and look down at your hands in your lap. The thing is, you know “that detective”, he raised you. You know how he thinks and works. He sure as hell is going to catch Marta and figure out what happened. That’s why he was brought in.

“This is what Granddad wanted for you,” Ransom continues, “I mean, think about what he did to go through with this. He wanted this for himself, he wanted this for the family. And he wanted it for you. You’ve come this far. Let me- let us help you go all the way.” Ransom gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you smile slightly at him, nodding slightly to Marta. You want to help her and if anyone can outsmart Benoit Blanc, it sure as hell would be his daughter.

“What’s going on? This isn’t you. You could just turn me in right now and still get your cut of the inheritance. Why?” Marta sees straight through Ransom.

“Because fuck my family.”

You nod slightly. He does make a good point.

“We can help you get away with this, right?” Ransom looks at you as he speaks and you nod. “Right. And then, you’re gonna give me my cut of the inheritance.”

Marta chuckles lightly in disbelief.

“Happy ending. Everybody wins. You, me, Y/n, Harlan,” Ransom states.

“Yeah,” Marta sighs.

“Deal?”

Before she can answer, Marta’s phone buzzes and she picks up. You can tell she’s talking to Meg but you decide to not eavesdrop so you turn to Ransom.

“You really are an asshole sometimes, you know that?”

“Hey, you’re the one that said yes to my proposal~” he teases you with a smirk.

You blush lightly, “That I did. I’ll drive us home, you’re definitely over the limit.”

“Whatever you say, my love,” he kisses your forehead and hands you the keys.

You lean against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It sounds faster than normal. You look up at him, but before you can ask him anything, Marta clearly gets hung up on mid-sentence.

“Okay then,” Ransom mutters. “Did Blanc find anything suspicious at the house?”

Marta sighs, hiding her face in her hands again, “Yes, he found mud upstairs. Where I broke in through the window.”

“Shit,” Ransom mutters, barely audible. “Identifiable prints?”

Marta shakes her head, “No.”

“Good. Okay. Good. Hey, you lay low for a couple days, wait for this investigation to blow over, and it will. ‘Cause no matter how good this Blanc guy thinks he is, he’s got nothin’.”

Marta doesn’t respond. She just looks away from you both nervously.

“Hey, relax,” you offer Marta a soft smile and she nods slightly. “It’ll be ok. We’ll see you around, we have to get home.”

Marta nods again and you wave before walking out to the Beemer, leaving Ransom to follow behind.

You get in the car quickly and put the key in the ignition with a very shaky hand.

“Woah, hey, Y/n. Are you sure you’re ok to drive?” Ransom gently grabs your shaking hand in both of his hands. He looks at you softly and you can see the worry in his eyes.

“Even if he has nothing, he’ll find something,” you state simply.

“Darling, what are you talking about?”

“You said that Blanc has nothing, well even if that’s true, which I doubt, he will have something eventually. That’s kind of his whole thing. Solving the unsolvable.”

“Y/n, he’s just another detective, this whole thing will blow over and we’ll all be fine.”

“No, Ransom, he’s not. You don’t know him like I do,” you reluctantly pull your hand away from Ransom, shifting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot.

“I don’t think getting questioned by him means you suddenly know him,” Ransom chuckles lightly but falls quiet when you don’t laugh. “Y/n?”

You stop at a red light and take a deep breath.

“Ransom, he’s my father.”

The silence in the car remained for the rest of the drive home. Ransom kept opening his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

You pull into the driveway, parking the Beemer in its usual spot. Neither you nor Ransom move from your seats in the car.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t think it would ever matter. I definitely didn’t expect anything like this to happen,” you don’t look at Ransom as you speak.

He simply nods and gets out of the car, walking into the house, stumbling slightly on the steps. You sigh and follow him at a bit of a distance to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. He must’ve had too much to drink. Somehow.

You find him in the kitchen, chugging a glass of water. Only to refill the glass and repeat the process.

“Ransom, please just say something,” you beg quietly, but loud enough for him to hear.

“I have a headache,” he states, focusing his attention on the fourth glass of water in less than 5 minutes.

You gently grab his hand, taking the glass of water away from him.

“You know that’s not what I meant. And cool it with the water. You’re gonna get hyponatremia if you keep it up at this pace.”

“I’m thirsty,” he tries to take the glass back, but you keep it out of his reach.

“Then you’re probably dehydrated. Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

“No,” he puffs his cheeks slightly and walks off to the stairs.

“Ransom, where are you going?” you put the glass down, following after him. Dodger notices and immediately jumps up from his bed and follows you both.

“To bed. I’m tired.”

“Please just talk to me…”

He sighs and stops walking, allowing you to catch up and move in front of him so he’s facing you.

“We can talk in the morning,” he states, gripping the railing tightly. His knuckles turn slightly white in an effort to keep himself upright.

“Are you ok…?” you ask, slightly nervously. You’ve seen him drunk and it’s never been like this.

“Mhmm,” he replied simply, stumbling past you and into your bedroom.

The door doesn’t shut completely behind him. You stand on the stairs, trying to keep yourself from crying. Dodger tilts his head and wags his tail slightly in an effort to cheer you up. You smile slightly at how adorable he looks.

That smile disappears in seconds as you hear a thud from the bedroom.

“Ransom?”

You get no response.

You rush up the rest of the stairs, opening your bedroom door to see Ransom passed out on the ground.

“Jesus, Ransom. How fucking drunk are you?” you mutter as you manage to hoist him onto the bed. Luckily he wasn’t far from the bed.

🔍🔪🔎

You wake up alone in the bed and decide to go downstairs to look for Ransom.

You find him lying on the couch, wrapped in one of your cashmere blankets as he watches Netflix.

“Feeling better?” you ask as you walk over, sitting next to his pillow.

“Just tired,” he nods slightly.

“How drunk were you last night?”

“Not very,” he says simply.

“You seemed hella tipsy though.”

“My problem wasn’t with being drunk.”

You decide not to question him anymore, he doesn’t seem thrilled about the subject.

“Anyways, about yesterday…” you trail off, hoping he’ll catch on. He sighs.

“I’m not going to hold that against you, Y/n. I’m sure you had your reasons to not want to tell me that you’re the daughter of a famous detective. I might not know those reasons, but I don’t have to. It’s your right to choose what you tell me and I will always respect your decisions. I trust you. We all have our own secrets.”

“Even you?”

He hesitates slightly, “I suppose so, yeah.”

“Like what? You know mine, do I get to know yours?”

He looks up at you from his position of lying next to you on the couch. You absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair as he watches you, weighing his options.

“Not now, maybe later,” he smiles gently up at you.

“No rush, we have the rest of our lives. Until death do us part,” you lean down and kiss his forehead.

“Until death do us part,” Ransom repeats, “I always thought that was such a weird thing to have to say.”

You nod in agreement.

He sits up, pulling you into his lap and wrapping the blanket around both of you.

You blush and smile happily as you snuggle into him, both of you watching Netflix.

🔍🔪🔎

Eventually you find a good pause point in your binge-watching and you make two cups of (coffee/tea/hot drink of your preference). One for you, one for Ransom.

Just as you’re about to sit down, the doorbell rings, setting off Dodger. He runs to the door barking nonstop. You sigh and hand Ransom both of the cups before going to answer the door.

Marta is there, looking panicked. Dodger immediately perks up and sniffs her, excited to see another person.

“Hey, you ok? Come in,” you lead Marta inside.

“I got this,” she says, holding out an envelope. Her voice and hand shakes. You take the envelope and sit next to Ransom as you open it. He takes it from you and studies the slip of paper.

“I don’t know… what’s this?” he points to something at the bottom of the paper.

He rests his chin against his hand, covered by the sleeve of his sweater.

“It’s my medical bag tag. They have my medical bag for some reason,” Marta replies.

“Okay, but this is a photocopy of just the header of a blood toxicology report on Harlan,” Ransom clarifies. “Marta, this is going to show the morphine overdose.”

Marta just shrugs frantically as her breathing gets heavier.

“So I’m screwed?” she reasons.

“Hey, it’ll be ok,” you try to reassure her.

“How do you know all this stuff?” she asks Ransom.

“I was Harlan’s research assistant for a summer when Y/n was studying abroad. But what kind of blackmail scheme is this? I mean, the actual evidence is sitting up the street in the crime lab. There’s no demands, there’s no meeting place,”

Ransom shakes his head. “What’s the point in sending you this?”

Marta shrugs.

“Maybe we should go to the medical examiner’s office? They could’ve just intended to meet there?” you offer, pointing out the logo on the toxicology report.

“We could try,” Marta agrees.

“We’ll have to take your car, the Beemer only has two seats,” you add.

And off you go.

Marta pulls to a stop in front of the medical examiner’s office. Sirens wail around you. From the front seat, you watch as firefighters putting out the flames of the burning building.

You sink down in your seat slightly when you notice Lieutenant Elliott talking to your father. Luckily their backs are towards you. You’re just paranoid.

Ransom leans forward from his seat in the back to get a better view of what’s happening.

“Holy shit,” Marta mutters. “This is insane. I mean, who would blow up a whole real building just to blackmail me?”

Ransom checks to make sure no one is behind you before replying, “Marta, this means the blackmailer has the only paper copy of the thing that can prove your guilt. You didn’t get any other instructions? No phone call? No email? Nothing?”

You furrow your eyebrows slightly. It’s not like Ransom to be this helpful to anyone. Well, anyone besides you. You shake it off as just feeling jealous that you’re not the only one he can be nice to.

“No,” Marta sighs. “Well, I haven’t checked my email.”

She quickly pulls out her phone and goes into her unread emails. You lean over to look as does Ransom.

“There is one,” she declares softly. It only lists an address and time, sent from a nondescript or email address.

“Yeah, that’s it. ‘1209 Columbus Road. 10 a.m.’” Ransom confirms, reading the email.

They both look at the clock, realizing it’s already 9:32 a.m.

Ransom continues speaking to Marta, “You know what this means, right? If you destroy that copy, you’re totally in the clear.”

You, on the other hand, are too focused on watching Blanc and Elliott. Blanc has been pacing for a few minutes, something he usually does when thinking about a case. Just as he turns back around to pace the other way once more, he looks up, spotting Marta’s car. His eyes lock onto yours and you sink down into our seat further. Your eyes widen nervously.

“Well shit,” you say aloud, knowing this can’t end well.

That gains Marta’s attention and she follows your line of gaze, noticing your father starting to walk towards the car. “Oh no,” she whispers.

Ransom glances over as well, looking back at Marta, “Marta, did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” she breathes out.

“Step on it,” you elbow Marta slightly, knowing you need to leave.

She snaps out of her daze and switches the car into drive, stepping in the gas and quickly maneuvering back onto the road as the tires of her car squeal.

🔍🔪🔎

You get onto a more open road and you hold your head in your hands, contemplating all of your life choices that have led you to this. What went wrong?

You think to yourself. You shake your head, realizing that’s too long of a list.

“Okay, baby driver,” Ransom glances behind the car.

“Oh god,” Marta whimpers nervously, “You regret helping me yet?”

“I regret not taking the Beemer,” he replies.

“You always regret not taking the Beemer. There are three of us, it has two seats. How would that have worked?” you retort sassily.

“We’re already running from the cops, not having the proper number of seats for passengers would be the least of our worries. At least it'd be faster,” he chuckles slightly.

You glance at the mirror on your side of the car and see three cop cars. You’ve been hearing the sirens for a few minutes.

Your phone buzzes. You glance down to see your father calling. You mute the call, not wanting to explain yourself.

“Go. Go! Go! Are you flooring it!?” Ransom asks, slightly frantic.

“I am literally flooring it!” Marta panics.

Your phone buzzes yet again with another call from your father as the cop cars catch up to you. One car drives at your side and your father leans out the open window slightly, pointing to his phone and trying to get you to pick up. You mute the call.

“This is going well,” Ransom muses sarcastically.

“I’m pulling over,” Marta declares.

“What?” you look at her in a panic.

“If you miss your chance to get this tox report, it's all over,” Ransom reminds her.

“Oh, my God,” Marta groans with tears in her eyes.

Marta suddenly slams the brakes, sending you forward, luckily caught by your seatbelt. You feel Ransom hit the back of your seat slightly. Luckily he had his seatbelt too.

“Hello whiplash” you mumble, rubbing your neck.

“Why- Why are we stopping? Why are you stopping in the middle of the road?” Ransom presses.

Just then Marta floors the glass again, speeding last the now stopped cop cars and quickly turning onto another road.

You glance behind you and see the cars turning and beginning to follow you.

🔍🔪🔎

You get onto a more crowded street, still followed by the cops.

“Hold on,” Marta warms as she quickly turns down an alley, bumping a dumpster with the side of her car.

“Glad we didn’t take the Beemer now?” you ask Ransom.

“A bit,” he nods.

One of the cop cars crashes into the corner of a building as it tries to turn into the alley at the same speed. Marta keeps driving. Another cop car gets stuck on some pallets next to another dumpster as they try to follow you.

You chuckle, slightly excited by the chase. Definitely reminds you of your teenage years.

Marta pulls to a quick stop, lightly hitting a few shopping carts behind a building.

“Oh, my God, I’m just pure adrenaline right now. I feel like I swallowed bees,” Marta pants slightly.

“Why would you know what swallowing bees feels like?” you ask rhetorically.

Marta chuckles slightly. Ransom smiles slightly, though you can’t see from your seat.

“Okay, so what is it? What’s the address?” Marta looks back at Ransom for an answer.

“1209 Columbus Road,” he recites from memory.

“Okay. I mean, whatever they want, I’ll say yes.”

“Anything,” Ransom nods.

“You know, just to get that report back.” Marta pulls her keys from the ignition.

“Get it back and destroy it,” Ransom adds.

“Destroy it,” Marta repeats. “Holy shit.” She sighs, “Hey, thank you guys. I couldn’t do this without you,” she looks at both you and Ransom earnestly.

You nod slightly, eyes widening suddenly as he window is firmly knocked on by a cop. Another car has pulled in behind you.

Lieutenant Elliott exits the car, leisurely going towards Marta’s car. “Get out,” he calls firmly.

You all get out, hands slightly raised. You and Ransom drop your arms, knowing there’s no real formality to this now.

“That was the dumbest car chase of all time,” Elliott states. Marta’s hands remain up. “Put your hands down,” he snaps at her.

Your father strolls over towards yours and Ransom’s side of the car. “I spoke to Wanetta Thrombey, Greatnana,” he informs you all, only looking at you. “Night of the party, she saw someone climbing the trellis to the third floor.”

You glance over at Marta, assuming it was her. You know Greatnana saw her when she came down the trellis.

“Mr. Drysdale,” Lieutenant Elliott calls, “come on.”

“Let’s go,” Trooper Wagner waves for Ransom to go to the cop car.

Ransom hesitated for a second before walking towards Wagner.

“Pat him down, check him out,” Elliott instructs as Wagner makes sure Ransom doesn’t have any weapons.

“What’s going on?” you ask, turning to Blanc for an answer.

“‘Ransom came back’ she said. I don’t know what he came back to do, but we’ll find out.”

Ransom looks over at you as he leans down to get in the car. He almost looks sorry.

“Did he ask you to drive when he saw me coming?” Blanc asks Marta.

“Yes,” she states simply. Blanc walks away a bit. You look away as she ducks into her car. You know she’s just got to puke now and you definitely don’t want to watch. You catch Ransom’s eyes as you avoid looking at Marta. You tap your foot slightly and sigh.

“Wait!” you call out, jogging over to Wagner. “Do you think I could come with you? I want to be with Ransom.”

“Yeah, I’ll drive with Marta, you can go with them,” your father pats your shoulder and heads back to Marta’s car.

Trooper Wagner opens the back door for you, letting you sit next to Ransom.

Definitely not the usual practice, but there’s no reason to not trust you.

The car pulls away and you mess with your hands in your lap. Ransom leans over and kisses your head, resting his forehead against the side of your head.

This isn’t like him. You know it isn’t. Something is off in this picture and you intend to find it. He never acts defeated.

🔍🔪🔎

Wagner parks the car in the driveway of Harlan’s house. You sigh as they lead Ransom out of the car and into the house, leaving you to follow behind. You walk into the library, ready to see if Ransom has any tricks left up his sleeves to cover for Marta.

🔍🔪🔎

Well he didn’t. He came clean, telling them exactly what Marta had told you two.

You confirm everything he says, agreeing that Marta had told you as well. Elliott and Wagner release Ransom, taking off his handcuffs. They all leave the room, but you don’t. You begin pacing, just like your father. Something doesn’t add up.

You begin a list in your head.

What I know:

Marta switched the medicine bottles because she didn’t read the labels

She didn’t call an ambulance

Harlan has her stage her leaving and him being alive so she wouldn’t be caught

Marta wouldn’t hurt a fly on purpose

Someone thinks Harlan was murdered, hence your father’s presence

Your father doesn’t seem to know why he’s here either

Harlan left everything to Marta, giving almost everyone motive

Ransom, your playboy drama queen fiancé, knew he wasn’t getting a cent of Harlan’s fortune

You stop pacing. You feel the blood drain from your face as something clicks in your mind. You quickly sit down in front of the piano, staring down at the keys as you connect the dots.

Harlan and Ransom loved to argue. Why would Harlan just tell Ransom he doesn’t get his share of the inheritance. It’d burn more knowing that it’s not going to anyone in the family. Harlan must’ve told him everything. If so, he knew that Marta would be getting the fortune. He couldn’t bet on her renouncing it, of course not.

You think back to your time at Harvard. You were writing your first book. You had really wanted to impress your teacher with your thoroughness in your research, so you had checked out many books on law from the library. You came home one night to find Ransom reading one of them and he had asked you about a few things, which you explained. One thing you remember him asking about? The slayer rule.

If Ransom wanted to reverse the changed will, you think, he knows that the slayer rule will nullify Marta’s claim. So if he could just frame Marta… bingo.

You immediately pull out your phone, only to receive a call from your father. You feel your mouth go dry from nerves.

You answer the call with a shaky, “Hello?”

“Y/n I regret to say Marta found Fran, and it’s a long story, but Fran is in the hospital and I figured I should let you know. I called the Lieutenant already. He told me what you and Ransom said,” your father informs you.

“O-oh,” you stutter.

“Is everything ok? You sound more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, Y/n.”

“No… it’s not ok…”

“Cat got your tongue?”

“I just… I’d need to see the tox report to be sure,” your drop your voice a few levels to be sure no one overhears you, “Dad, I think I’m engaged to a murderer.”

Pt. 3

#ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans #fanfic #knives out fanfiction #knives out #xreader #requests are open

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glass-dahlia · 2 years ago

Note

HI are you open for request?

I am open for requests! I’ll write for a lot of characters (Marvel, Harry Potter, Supernatural, Sherlock, etc). I don’t write descriptive smut, but I’m totally fine with some spice besides that.

#fanfic #requests are open

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glass-dahlia · 2 years ago

Text

CSI:KFC (Part 1)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~26.5k

Warnings: Mention of/description of murder, alluded/mentioned drug use, mentions of eating, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, mentions of vomiting, (let me know if I missed anything)

Summary: Family drama, an engagement, and a murder investigation? Seems about right with these people. Thank goodness you have Ransom by your side.

A/N: Requests are open!

Masterlist

You wake up from your nap and look around the room you’re in. It’s much larger than your room and the bed is much softer. You sigh and pull the blanket over your head. You hear the door to the bedroom open and close quietly. You stay still, hoping that whoever it is will assume you’re asleep and leave.

“I know you don’t sleep under the blankets like that, y/n. How long have you been up?” your boyfriend sits on the bed. Well, it’s his bed but you visit so much that you’ve half claimed it as yours.

You peek out at him from under the fluffy covers. He smirks at you, his beautiful blue eyes watching you with adoration.

“Only a few minutes, I didn’t want to leave my bed, it’s comfy,” you state, hiding your smile with the blanket.

“Oh, so it’s your bed now, huh?”

“Yes, Ransom, it is. Fight me.”

He chuckles and gets under the blanket with you so you can’t keep hiding from him. He pulls you over to him and holds you in his lap, hugging you so you can’t escape.

“Well last I checked it was mine and since you’re here now, I think that also makes you mine~” Ransom Drysdale. Ever the flirt. You stick your tongue out at him and he kisses your cheek.

“I hate you,” you lie through your teeth.

“I love you too~” he chuckles, causing you to blush lightly. He always sees through your lies. He’s always known you to be a good liar. It takes one to know one.

🔍🔪🔎

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale! We’re going to be late if you don’t get your ass moving right now!” you shout, waiting by the front door. You, a reasonable person that can read a clock, had gotten ready an hour ago so you wouldn’t be late to the party. You’re wearing a simple sundress with a jacket over it. It’s Ransom’s grandfather’s 85th birthday party. Not overly formal, thank goodness.

You finally hear some movement upstairs. You hear nails click-clack on the stairs quickly.

“Dodger!” your/your boyfriend’s dog runs over to you. He wags his tail excitedly, putting his front paws on your leg, wanting to be pet. You sit on the floor with him and scratch behind his ears. He licks your face, making you squeal as he wags his tail even more. Just like the day you got him.

🔍🔪🔎

You and Ransom had both graduated high school. You had been accepted at Harvard, Ransom said he wasn’t going to bother with college because according to him, it’s pointless.

You wanted to major in English Language and Literature, you wanted to be a writer. Initially, you hadn’t wanted to apply to Harvard because there was no possible way for you to pay the tuition fees. Ransom, being the secret sweetheart he is, talked it over with his granddad, Harlan Thrombey, who agreed to pay for all of your school costs. Harlan had always been supportive of your writings as he was a famous writer himself. You were always incredibly excited when he complimented your stories, it meant a lot coming from someone like him.

Ransom was able to buy a nice apartment for both of you, close enough to the campus for you to walk to class.

You were alone in the apartment one day, studying for an exam. Ransom had gone out for a bit, to a bar was your guess, so you didn’t have any distractions.

After about two hours of studying, you heard the slight rattle of keys as the door was unlocked and opened.

“Back already? I thought you’d be out later than this,” you went over towards the partially open door curiously, as Ransom hadn’t come in yet.

Just as you moved to open the door more, a dog bolted past you, dragging a leash behind it.

You gasped and smiled excitedly. You’d been bugging Ransom for months about how much you wanted a dog.

“This is Dodger. I saw him at the shelter and I know you’ve always wanted a dog, so… I bought him,” Ransom stated simply.

“He’s perfect. Like you~” you hugged Ransom and rested your head on his chest.

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head as you both watched Dodger run around, excitedly exploring his new home.

🔍🔪🔎

“Best boi,” you state simply, as it is an indisputable fact.

“What am I, second place?” Ransom finally walks down the stairs, looking ready to leave.

“Maybe… fifth place on a good day?” You tease, smirking slightly.

“Well you’re always first for me~” he flirts, causing you to blush. You stand up and fix your dress so it rests normally.

“Are you finally ready to go?” You look up at Ransom’s perfect blue/slightly green eyes.

“Almost, I want to do something first,” he replies, reaching into his pocket.

“Ransom, we really don’t have time to-”

He gets down on one knee, looking up at you as you fall silent. You tear up, unable to control your emotions.

“Y/n L/n,” he starts.

You watch him, holding your breath to try to contain all your emotions. He smiles gently.

“Will you marry me?” he opens the small ring box he pulled from his pocket, revealing a beautiful ring. Your heart beats faster than it ever has and you state at the ring, trying to comprehend everything that’s happening as tears slip down your cheeks.

“Y/n? What do you say…?” Ransom starts to get nervous.

“You…. asshole, my makeup is ruined now,” you smile slightly, wiping away the makeup smudged under your eyes from your tears.

“That’s not what I-”

“Ransom, you dumbass, of course I’m going to marry you.”

He smiles and takes your left hand, gently slipping the ring onto your finger. You grab his shirt in a fist and pull him down to you, kissing him passionately. He smiles slightly into the kiss before you eventually pull away to breathe.

“We’re really going to be late. We should leave,” you grab Ransom’s jacket and hand it to him.

“Whatever you say, Y/n~.”

You fix your makeup in the Beemer as Ransom drives both of you to the party.

🔍🔪🔎

You’re standing by the fireplace, talking with Meg and Marta as they admire your engagement ring.

“Congratulations, Y/n. You two make an adorable couple,” Marta smiles at you kindly.

“He’s a total prick, but somehow you’ve made him mildly tolerable on occasion,” Meg chuckles lightly.

“That doesn’t seem like much, but honestly that’s one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received, thank you Meg,” you smile.

🔍🔪🔎

You notice Walt is just moping around. Something clearly threw him off. Despite knowing this could go wrong, you decide to check on him.

“Hey, Walt, is everything ok?” you smile gently at him, offering your support.

“Oh, yes, sorry. I’m alright,” he dismisses the topic.

“Well, I’m here if you need to talk, ok?”

Walt nods. “Congratulations on your engagement, Y/n. I’m sure you two will be very happy together,” he says, sounding passive aggressive. You’ve always felt like he didn’t like you.

“Thanks… have you seen Harlan? I was hoping to give him my gift in person.”

“I think he was talking to the housekeeper.” Walt walks off, leaving you alone.

“Her name is Fran,” you mutter under your breath, not pleased with how rude most of the family is towards Fran and Marta.

You yawn slightly as you walk off to find Harlan. You’ve spent a lot of late nights writing and haven’t gotten much sleep lately.

You find Harlan alone in the parlor. He turns to you as you walk in. You smile and he smiles back kindly.

“I’ve heard the news. How are you, Mrs. Drysdale?” Harlan asks.

“That makes me sound like Ransom’s mother.”

“Perhaps, but I’m guessing that’s not what you’re here to talk about.”

“Nope, I’m here to give you a gift actually. This one is from me, there’s another gift from both Ransom and I, but I wanted to give this to you in person,” you hand him the small wrapped gift you’ve been holding onto.

He unwraps it, revealing a revised and edited book draft.

“The final draft?” He asks.

“It is, I kind of spent the last few months on it to get it done in time for your birthday… I know you were looking forward to this one.”

“I always look forward to your books, Y/n. You truly are a gifted writer. I see a lot of myself in you in that way.”

You smile and hug Harlan.

“I’ll be sure to get this published as soon as I can,” Harlan tells you, hugging back.

“Oh, I can give it to Walt for you,” you offer, knowing Walt is in charge of Blood Like Wine. Harlan’s publishing company.

“No, no, that’s ok, Y/n. I’ll see to its publication myself,” Harlan assures you. You nod in agreement, not wanting to ask why he doesn’t want you to give it to Walt.

“Thank you, Y/n. It’s a wonderful gift.”

“I’m glad you like it!” You smile proudly.

“I was hoping to talk to your fiancé, any idea where he is?”

“I’d guess Ransom is in the kitchen,” you yawn again, realizing you’re going to have to fight to stay awake for the rest of the party.

Harlan nods, “Now go home, Y/n, you’re clearly exhausted. No need to stay so long. I’m just glad I got to see you today.”

“I don’t want to be rude and leave so early, plus Ransom is my ride home, I don’t want to make him leave early too.”

“Meg was going to go visit some friends, perhaps you can catch a ride with her. It’s my birthday party, I insist you take care of yourself, it’s not rude.”

“Thank you, Harlan.”

“And thank you, Y/n,” he hugs you before you leave.

🔍🔪🔎

“Hey, Meg, can I catch a ride with you? I’m really tired and just need to go home,” you look at Meg hopefully.

“Of course, let me just grab my coat, I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes?” She offers.

“Perfect, I’m just going to let Ransom know,” you walk off to find your fiancé.

🔍🔪🔎

“Hey, I’m going home early, I need sleep,” you hug Ransom’s arm once you find him in the kitchen.

“You’re taking the Beemer?” he asks, holding one of your hands in his, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“No, Meg is visiting some friends so she’s giving me a ride in her car,” you lean into Ransom’s warm, comforting figure.

“Alright, get some sleep. I’ll try not to wake you when I get home,” he kisses your forehead.

“You can try, but anything you do will probably wake me,” you smile at the affection.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

“We will,” you kiss his cheek and squeeze his hand gently before heading outside to meet Meg.

🔍🔪🔎

After dropping you off at Ransom’s and your house, Meg congratulates you again before leaving. You go inside and let Dodger outside to go to the bathroom before retreating to the master bedroom to sleep with Dodger closely following you.

You lay on your half of the bed, Dodger taking up Ransom’s half and quickly falling asleep, cuddling Dodger close to you.

🔍🔪🔎

You wake up alone in your bed. The sheets next to you are thrown carelessly aside. You sit up, looking for Ransom. You know he was in bed with you when he got home.You let out a sigh as you throw off the covers and swing your legs off the side of the bed. You get up and comb your fingers through your messy h/c hair. Your engagement ring snags your hair slightly.

You smile like an idiot, walking down the stairs, still as excited as ever to finally be engaged. Ransom is sitting on the couch with his forearms resting on his knees. He’s staring at the ground in front of him, rubbing his hands together absentmindedly. He doesn’t seem to notice you.

Dodger lifts his head up from his position of laying next to Ransom on the couch. You hear his tail thud against the leather as he gets excited to see you.

“Ransom?” you speak softly, knowing something must be wrong.

He glances over at you, not changing his position, just shifting his gaze. He doesn’t reply. He just looks at you long enough for you to notice tears forming in his eyes.

You quickly move over to him, pulling him into a hug as he leans his forehead against your shoulder. You feel tears soak through the shirt you’re wearing. It’s one of Ransom’s shirts that you stole as an oversized sleep-shirt.

You gently run your fingers through his hair, kissing his temple and repeating that “it’ll be alright”.

“Y/n…” Ransom starts hoarsely, pulling away from you slightly to face you. You look at him sympathetically, hating watching him be this hurt. You keep one hand on his back to comfort him. “My grandfather… I… he’s dead,” he looks away from you as he breaks the news. He knows how close you and Harlan were, he doesn’t want to hurt you. He cares about you too much.

“What?” your voice breaks and you cover your mouth with your free hand, trying to hold back a sob.

“I know,” he replies softly, pulling you closer to him. He hugs you, holding you and not wanting to let go. You snuggle into him and sob quietly into his chest.

At some point, Ransom pulls one of your cashmere blankets over the two of you. He doesn’t let go of you for a second.

🔍🔪🔎

You and Ransom hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch, nor had you spoken for at least two hours. You two had just sat there in silence, feeling comforted by each other’s presence.

Dodger gets up and nudges his way between you and Ransom. You smile sadly and scratch behind his right ear. Dodger rolls onto his back, allowing Ransom to rub his tummy. You look up and notice that Ransom is already watching you. He smiles gently at you. You can’t help but blush as you shift your position, leaning into his side again.

Ransom drapes his arm over the back of the couch so it’s also around you. Dodger jumps off the couch, going to find a toy to play with since you and Ransom stopped petting him for 0.05 seconds which is absolutely unacceptable.

“How about we watch (your favorite movie)? It’ll give us something else to focus on at least,” Ransom suggests.

You nod and pull the cashmere blanket towards you more, holding it up and burying your face in its soft texture as Ransom turns on the movie.

“I love you,” you whisper softly, unable to speak much louder due to the sobbing from earlier.

“I love you more.” Random takes his seat next to you once more, kissing your forehead and moving you closer to his side. He holds your hand in his, lacing your fingers together under the blanket, draping the other arm on the back of the couch as usual.

🔍🔪🔎

It’s been almost a week since Harlan died. Suicide according to the police. Ransom said he didn’t buy that story for one second.

You had woken up slightly earlier than usual to get ready to go to the funeral. By the time you were ready to leave, Ransom was still asleep in your shared bed. You walk over to his side of the bed. You gently run your fingers through his messy bedhead style hair to wake him up.

“Come on, you have to get ready. We need to leave,” you speak quietly and gently, knowing Ransom’s emotions are still raw, even if he always tries to hide them.

“Y/n, I’m not going.” He reaches out and gently squeezes your hand.

“It’s your grandfather’s funeral, Ransom. You have to go. For him. If you don’t, your family-”

“I don’t care, I don’t feel well. So what if they give me shit? I’d rather deal with that than throw up in front of everyone.”

“I’ll get you some water. Try to relax, ok? I’m sure everything that’s happened lately has just thrown you off.” You get him a glass of water from the kitchen as well as some pills for his stomach ache. You put them next to his side of the bed, earning a weak smile from him. You kiss his forehead.

“Feel better, ok? I’ll be back later. I’m taking the Beemer. The keys for the Lamborghini are on the counter if you need to go to the drugstore. I noticed we’re low on the stomach relief pills or whatever. Text me if you need me, I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/n,” Ransom replied, half muffled as he hid his face in the cool side of his pillow.

🔍🔪🔎

You fix your black dress as you walk into the funeral home. Guilt floods your mind as you second guess your decision of leaving Ransom home alone when he��s sick.

He may seem all tough and emotionless, but he’s really just a puppy that needs to be loved and cared for. At least he has Dodger to keep him company.

You’re greeted with a hug from Meg when you walk inside.

“Hey, Y/n, how’re you holding up?” she asks.

“Well, there’s been a lot of crying in the house, but I’m doing my best to stay

strong. For me and for Ransom.”

“Speaking of,” Linda interjects, “where is my son?”

“He wasn’t feeling well. He’s at home,” you try your hardest to put on a polite tone. Linda and you have ever quite gotten along. She’s never hated you, Ransom has said Linda thinks you’re good for him. But she’s never shown any sense of actually liking you.

“And you didn’t tell him that he owes this to his granddad?” She asks, raising an eyebrow and eyeing you suspiciously.

“No, I-I mean, I did, but-” you try to form a coherent sentence.

“Hey Y/n, where’s Ransom?” Richard walks over, patting your shoulder. He’s the opposite problem. He likes you but you don’t trust him one bit. Something has always felt off with him.

“He isn’t coming,” Linda states, walking off. Richard gives a look of confusion, following Linda and asking about Ransom as if she knows the answers.

“I still have no idea why you’d want to marry into this mess,” Meg tried to lighten the mood for you and her.

“I’m just doing it for Ransom. I love that little puppy, he’s a sweetheart once you get past the playboy facade,” you smile gently.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she walks off to talk to her mother.

🔍🔪🔎

Once Marta arrives, you spend your time talking with her. Talking and crying. Lots of tears.

“Where’s Fran?” You ask curiously, looking around slightly.

“She's still at the house. Too much to take care of there,” Marta replies.

You nod understandingly.

You and Marta swap stories of your fond memories of Harlan. You recall the day Harlan found out about your passion for writing. Marta relates the story of the first time she beat Harlan in Go.

You leave the funeral, feeling a bit lighter than before. Maybe you don’t need to fret and mourn those that have passed away. Not for too long at least. The best course of action seems to remember the good times and strive towards creating more with those you still have left.

🔍🔪🔎

You pull into the driveway and park the Beemer in its usual spot. You enter the house quietly, tossing your keys on the counter and shedding your coat at the hallway closet. You kick off your shoes before going upstairs. You peek in your room to see Ransom and Dodger asleep peacefully with Dodger’s nose nudged under Ransom’s chin. You take a picture, needing to remember the adorable sight.

Ransom stirs slightly and looks over to you tiredly.

“Back already?” he asks.

“It’s been 3 hours.”

Ransom silently mouths an ‘oh’, scratching Dodger’s neck, causing Dodger to

kick his leg in pleasure.

“You know, my dad always told me that ‘the best judge of character is a dog’.”

Ransom smiles as you sit on the bed next to him and Dodger starts licking his face.

Judging by how much Dodger adores Ransom. He must be a pretty great guy, right?

🔍🔪🔎

You watch yourself in the mirror as you brush your hair, getting ready to leave for the memorial service for Harlan at his mansion. Ransom is still feeling ill so you’re going without him.

Your phone buzzes with a text message. You reply to it quickly before heading downstairs and grabbing the keys to the Beemer as well as your coat on the way out the door.

🔍🔪🔎

You spot Meg walking Marta into the house and you park. With a sigh you walk into the house as well, not looking forward to the family’s bad attitude.

“Ransom. Little shit. Missed the funeral,” Richard finishes just as you step inside.

“Excuse me!” one of the officers calls out. Trooper Wagner was it? “Uh, we’re ready for you now. We’d like to see you one at a time.”

You glance over at Richard, Linda, and Marta.

“Alright. I’ll go first, I’m assuming this will all be wrapped up before the memorial tonight,” Linda states, walking off into another room.

“We’ll do our best, ma’am,” Trooper Wagner reassures her, not that she’s listening to him anymore.

They close the door behind them. You look over at Marta and purse your lips into an awkward smile which she returns. Richard doesn’t look up from his phone.

“How're you doing kiddo?” Richard asks aloud. You’re not really sure if he’s talking to you or Marta so you both just stay silent as he continues to text. You nod for Marta to follow you as you lead her upstairs to a better room to wait in.

🔍🔪🔎

“We’re just gonna reintroduce ourselves as a formality,” you hear the other police detective say in the room below you. “I’m detective Lieutenant Elliott, and this is Trooper Wagner.”

Marta plays with her hands nervously as you both listen to the questioning. You can tell she’s not looking forward to her turn, you know she can’t lie. It makes her puke. You’ll certainly never forget that game of mafia last 4th of July.

“Now, I’m going to record this, just to make things easier,” Elliott commences.

You listen as they introduce Linda and offer their condolences.

“So, we understand on that night the family had gathered to celebrate your father’s 85th birthday?” He asks.

“Yes,” answers Linda simply.

“How was it?”

“The party? Pre-my-dad’s-death? Oh, it was great,” she replies in a monotone voice, hinting at sarcasm.

“Did anyone besides the family show face?”

“Uh, Fran, the housekeeper. Marta, Harlan’s caregiver. Good girl. Hard worker. Her family’s from Ecuador. Y/n, my son’s fiancée. But she left early. And Wanetta. Great nana. Harlan’s mom.”

“His mom? Wow. How old is she?” Elliott asks, impressed.

“We have no idea,” Linda replies, earning a quiet chuckle from you.

“Okay, um, and your son, Ransom, did he attend as well? You mentioned Y/n, I assume they came together?”

“Yes, but they both left early. At different times.”

You hear a note play from the piano in the room. Who would be playing the piano during a questioning?

There’s a moment of silence before Lieutenant Elliott continues, “Right, um…

Would you say that all four of you showed up around the same time?”

“No,” Linda sounds hesitant, trying to recall exact details to the best of her ability.

She continues, “Richard came early to help the caterers set up.”

“Okay. And you and your husband, Richard, work at a real estate firm in Boston?” Elliott switches topics.

“No. It’s my company,” Linda states firmly.

“Right. Right, sorry,” the lieutenant apologizes.

“I built my business from the ground up.” You roll your eyes slightly at Linda’s remark, knowing she only did so by getting a million dollar loan from Harlan.

“Oh, just like your father. You two were very close,” Elliott adds.

Linda goes on about her ‘secret way of communicating’ with Harlan. You suppose you had also found that through your books you had written for him. It was initially just a fun hobby to you, but once Harlan spotted your potential and insisted on publishing your works, it became a full time job. One you wouldn’t trade for anything else.

🔍🔪🔎

“Everyone idolizes their dad, right?” Richard asks the officers once he’s brought in for questioning.

“I don’t know. Do they?” Elliott asks.

“Definitely not,” you mutter to yourself in response instead of listening to Richard’s response.

“But my wife, Linda, does. Harlan started out with a rusty Smith Corona and built himself into one of the best-selling mystery writers of all time,” you smile slightly at Richard’s response, your admiration of Harlan hasn’t faded one bit.

“Wow, seems like all his kids are self-made overachievers.”

“Sure,” Richard says, sounding like he’s forcing himself to stay polite. That just seems to be his personality. Forced politeness.

🔍🔪🔎

After hearing some movement once Richard finishes, you hear Lieutenant Elliott introducing Walt.

“For the record, I’m speaking with Walt Thrombey, Harlan Thrombey’s youngest son. So, you run your father’s publishing company?”

You roll your eyes slightly, but continue to eavesdrop. Or accidentally happen to overhear everything. Yeah, that for sure.

“Yeah, it’s my… it’s our- it’s the family’s publishing company. Dad trusts me to run it. Thirty languages. Over 80 million copies sold. A real legacy. You guys fans?”

“I mean, I don’t do much fiction reading myself, but-” Elliott begins.

“Big fan. I’m a big fan,” Trooper Wagner jumps in, “I mean, Harlan’s plots are just like… like, I won’t spoil it for you, but, okay. Like Thousand Knives? The Cow and the Shotgun? Like where do you come up with that?”

“Well, dad said the plot just popped into his head, fully formed. It was the easy part for him,” Walt explains. Someone plays another note on the piano.

“Oh, and not to mention Y/n L/n. I mean, her writing and dialogue, just like… wow, right? Like that one where-” Trooper Wagner tries to continue before getting cut off by Lieutenant Elliott as you smile and try to hold in a laugh.

“So you’re in the area, right? Uh, you guys probably arrived around the same time,” Elliott presses on with the questioning.

“Uh… we all got here around 8:00. My wife, Donna, she’s my rock. My son,

Jacob, he’s 16. Very politically active,” Walt replies.

You know everyone in the family would certainly say something different. Richard would definitely call Jacob a Nazi or something like that. Meg has said on multiple occasions that he’s ”an alt-right troll dipshit”.

“Kids today with the Internet, it’s amazing,” Walt finishes.

“So the night went well?”

After a moment of silence, Walt speaks again, “I mean, we’re all gutted, but, uh, I was happy to have that night with him. To be by his side. To think about our books and what we’ve accomplished with them,” you clench your jaw at that. More like what you and Harlan have accomplished. Walt had basically nothing to do with any of the success.

🔍🔪🔎

You shift your position on the couch you’re on. Marta ended up going to another room a while ago and you’re just trying to get comfortable so you can keep ‘accidentally’ overhearing the questioning. Your dad did always say you’re the real life Nancy Drew. Always getting into trouble because you couldn’t stay away from mysteries and detective work.

“So we’re here with Joni Thrombey, Harlan Thrombey’s daughter-in-law?” Lieutenant Elliot begins his next round of questioning.

“Mmm-Hmm. Yeah, I married his son, Neil. We had one daughter, Meg. And then Neil passed on 15 years ago,”Joni responds.

“But you remained close to the Thrombeys?”

“Oh! They’re my family. I feel simultaneously freed by and supported by them. It’s that balance of opposites that’s the nugget of Flam.”

You roll your eyes again, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous she sounds. Since when has the family ‘freed’ her? Basically everyone thinks she’s lost it.

You hear Joni having to specify that Flam is her skincare company that “promotes a total lifestyle” or some bullshit like that. She’s just something else for sure. At least she isn’t really mean. That’s a positive.

🔍🔪🔎

“Grandad gives my mom a yearly allowance and he’s never missed wiring a tuition payment to my schools,” you hear Meg begin softly, “He’s a genuinely selfless man.”

“But you left the party early?” Elliot inquires.

“To see some friends at Smith. And Y/n needed a ride home, she was tired. Ransom needed their car so I offered to drop her off at their house.”

🔍🔪🔎

“I think Linda was upset,” Joni speculates. “But Harlan understood.”

Another note from the piano. Seriously, who the hell is doing that? Isn’t it supposed to be a serious police questioning?

There’s a brief silence before the lieutenant goes on, “Right. Um, you two showed up to the party around the same time-”

“If I could pause?” Joni interjects, “Because I just… who is that guy? And why are we doing all this again?” She chuckles lightly.

“This is just some follow-up questions. We’re attempting to be thorough, so we can figure out the manner of death,” Elliot insists.

🔍🔪🔎

“So by ‘manner of death’, you mean if someone killed him?” Walt asks, piquing your interest. “If-If one of us killed him? One of his family-”

“No, no, Walt-” Elliot tries to settle Walt down.

“Is that what you’re suggesting, Lieutenant?”

“No one’s saying that, okay? This is all pro-forma.”

🔍🔪🔎

“Ok,” Richard agrees, “So who the fuck is that?”

“Um, this is-” Lieutenant Elliot begins.

“Benoit Blanc,” you state harshly, looking at the man sitting next to the piano across the room from your chair. Lieutenant Elliot and Trooper Wagner look at you in confusion. You’ve just been brought in for questioning and they have yet to introduce you to the private investigator.

“You two… know each other?” the lieutenant asks hesitantly.

“Yeah. We go way back,” you snark, glaring slightly at Blanc.

Lieutenant Elliot looks back at Blanc for a response. He sighs and nods, acknowledging that you’ve told the truth.

“So why are you here?” you ask Blanc.

Blanc clicks his tongue slightly before replying in his thick Southern accent, “I’m here at the behest of a client.”

🔍🔪🔎

“Who?” Linda requests sharply.

“I cannot say. But let me assure you this. My presence will be ornamental. You will find me a respectful, quiet, passive observer of the truth,” the private investigator explained calmly.

🔍🔪🔎

“Fine. Are we getting there?” Richard questions, slightly impatiently.

“Nearly. Um… Harlan’s nurse, she was at the party in a professional capacity?” you hear Blanc inquire.

“Marta? I guess. Harlan hired her to be around to take care of whatever medical needs popped up. But really, she’s like part of the family,” you roll your eyes at Richard’s glorification of the family’s relationship with Marta. He continues, “Good kid. Been a good friend to Harlan. Family’s from Paraguay.”

You sigh and stretch out with a yawn as Richard blabs on about Linda liking Marta’s work ethic.

🔍🔪🔎

“May I just, um, then I’ll recede, but… As a self-made man myself, I have to express my admiration for how you followed in your father’s footsteps,” Blanc compliments.

“Thank you,” Linda replies. Blanc is definitely fishing for something. You know his tricks.

“Just marvelous. You know, the whole family, too. And Joni with her thing, Walt with his publishing empire…”

“Well, yes. I mean, Walt, he’s done well… with what dad gave him. Not that it matters, but really Dad and Y/n hand him a book each twice a year and Walt publishes them. It’s just not the same.”

There it is. That’s what he wants. The inside scoop on Walt.

“But surely Walt runs the merchandising, adaptations, film and television rights, I mean-” Blanc continues.

“Are you baiting me, Detective? You know he doesn’t. And if you think I am dumb enough to be baited into talking family business, into shit-talking my baby brother in front of a police detective and a state trooper-”

She’s certainly not dumb enough you reason. But she’s not the only one in for questioning.

🔍🔪🔎

“Walt doesn’t run shit. Because there are no TV and film rights. Harlan never allowed any adaptations of his books. Hated the idea. So does Y/n,” Richard explains, falling right into Blanc’s trap.

“No!” Blanc feigns shock.

“Yeah! Drives Walt nuts. Cause that’s where the real money is. When Walt would get a little Irish courage in him, he’d get into it with Harlan.”

“Did he ‘get into it’ at the party?”

“Oh my god! Wouldn’t leave him alone the poor guy. Harlan finally had to give him the hook. I didn’t hear what he said, but he must’ve really handed him his lunch. Cause Walt was like a wounded puppy for the rest of the night.”

🔍🔪🔎

“What? Richard said what? No. Jesus l. We did not get ‘into it’,” Walt defends himself.

“I’m just trying to get an accurate impression,” Blanc reassures Walt. “Harlan took you aside at the party. When you returned, you were chastened. What did Harlan say to you?”

You think back to that night and remember Harlan not wanting you to give Walt your final draft to publish. Maybe… just maybe, Harlan finally put Walt in his place. Would he fire his own son?

“We talked. We had a business discussion about e-books. Jesus. It was nothing,” Walt declares, a bit too defensively for you to accept it as true. “You want to talk about an argument to Hell, Ransom has an argument with him.”

You sit up suddenly, causing you to go slightly light headed from the sudden movement. Ransom mentioned that he had argued with Harlan before leaving, but waved it off as nothing. You know he and Harlan had that kind of relationship, but it’s never been an ‘argument to Hell’.

“Ransom, that’s, uh, Richard and Linda’s son? Y/n’s fiancé?” Blanc questions, the last part sounding a bit vexed.

Walt hums in affirmation. “Look, we all love Ransom, he’s a good kid. We love him…”

“...but?” Blanc pushes.

“But he’s always been the black sheep of the family. And I’m not- I’m not trying to- I like to keep stuff like this in the family. But with Ransom, he’s never had a job. And Dad, for some unknown reason, always supported him. They have this love-hate bond. They fight. But that night, God, they had a blowout

“About what?”

“We couldn’t make it out really, but it was huge. And it’s strange, they went into another room to do it. Usually they like to stoke up drama in front of the whole family.”

🔍🔪🔎

“So, Y/n, you must know Ransom very well, you are engaged to him,” Blanc tries to coax you into spilling anything.

“Mhmm,” you choose to not play his games.

“What was his argument with Harlan about?”

“I wouldn’t know, I left before it happened. I was home in bed by then. I fell asleep before Ransom would’ve left here.”

“But surely he talked to you about it when he got home?”

“I was asleep when he got home.”

Blanc smirks slightly, “But he woke you up when he entered your house.”

“How would you know that?” Lieutenant Elliott jumps in curiously.

“She’s a light sleeper. Always has been,” Blanc states simply, creating more confusion for Elliot and Wagner.

“So why don’t you tell me what happened, Y/n?” Blanc smiles, earning a light huff from you.

🔍🔪🔎

You had gotten home from Harlan’s birthday party almost 20 minutes ago. After finally getting ready for bed, you snuggled under the soft covers with Dodger at your side. You fell asleep almost instantaneously.

Unfortunately for you, Ransom returned around midnight. He stumbled slightly into your shared bedroom, waking you up.

It never takes much to wake you up. One thing you have in common with Linda.

You’re both light sleepers.

“Y/n! Did I wake you? I’m sorry!” Ransom quickly walked over to your side of the bed and hugged you a bit too tightly. “I love you so much, you know that? I’m so excited to get married!”

“Um, yeah, me too. Are you drunk or something?” you pulled away from him slightly.

“No! I didn’t drink anything, I just love you,” he crawled into bed next to you.

“I love you too,” you replied quietly, not wanting to push the topic of his odd behavior. He seemed really happy, could it really be something that bad? He didn’t smell like alcohol. You assured yourself that he’d be fine.

You turned your back to him to try to sleep again. You felt the bed shake as Ransom kept tapping his foot against nothing. You looked over at him to see him wiping some sweat from his forehead.

“Ransom… are you ok?” you asked slightly nervously.

“Mhmm, perfect,” he smiled, making you smile in return. “Let’s watch (another one of your favorite movies), I don’t feel tired.”

He didn’t wait for a response from you before turning the TV across from your bed on and turning the movie on.

You sighed, realizing you weren’t about to get much sleep so you sat up to watch the movie. Ransom wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap.

You leaned back into him and he gently curled his pointer finger under your chin, turning your head towards him slightly. He kissed you more passionately than usual. More full of lust. Of course, that inevitably lead to you and him-

🔍🔪🔎

“Nothing happened. He came home, woke me up accidentally and then we watched a movie in bed before we fell back asleep,” you insist.

“That’s all?” Blanc pushes.

“That’s it,” you rest your cheek in the palm of your hand, trying to hide the blush that’s slowly forming on your cheeks. You try to ignore the thoughts, but your mind keeps wandering to what happened after Ransom kissed you that night.

“Y/n,” Blanc says firmly, knowing you’re hiding something from him.

“Jesus, just drop it! I really don’t see what this has to do with any of this. I don’t exactly want to talk about my sex life with my dad,” you blurt out, immediately wishing you could take it back.

“Your… dad?” Lieutenant Elliott looks puzzled and glances over at Blanc. Blanc sighs softly.

“Lieutenant, meet Y/n Blanc. My daughter.”

🔍🔪🔎

“I thought your last name was L/n?” Marta asks in confusion as you pace back and forth in front of her. After your questioning concluded, you found Marta and told her everything that happened.

“I said that was my last name in high school and it stuck throughout college too. I saw it in a book or something, I didn’t want a connection to my father.”

“Have you told-”

“No one. Only you, my father, Lieutenant Elliott and Trooper Wagner know now. Ransom doesn’t.”

You run a hand through your hair, feeling the usual slight snag of your ring. You bring your hand back down and mess with the ring, ceasing your pacing.

“I know I’ll need to tell him eventually, I’m just… nervous. We met in high school and since then he’s always known me as Y/n L/n. I’ve lied to him the whole time,” you bite your lip slightly, a nervous habit of yours.

“I’m sure he won’t hold it against you, you did have your reasons,” Marta gently puts her hand on your shoulder reassuringly. You sigh lightly.

“At least I’m not the only liar. Linda and Meg were the only ones that told the whole truth tonight.”

“You’ve really been listening to everything?” Marta chuckles lightly, knowing that’s exactly the kind of thing you’d do.

“I accidentally overheard everything. I’m Nancy Drew, remember?” you smile at her, happy to know you have someone on your side.

🔍🔪🔎

“Speaking of getting into it,” Blanc continued his conversation with Richard, “You were at the house early, to help the caterers set up. Did you converse with Harlan at that time?”

“Well, he was there. We must have spoke,” Richard responded simply.

“In his study?”

“I don’t think so,” Richard hesitated slightly before answering.

“You see, I spoke with the caterer this morning, she didn’t see you helping her staff. She did hear Harlan in a screaming match with somebody that afternoon in his study.”

“Yeah, I don’t… screaming match?”

Blanc hummed in affirmation.

“No. Um… but Joni was here too. Um, she was early, so it might have been her. Maybe ask her.”

“These were two male voices,” Blanc clarified, trying to get Richard to budge.

“Harlan shouted the phrase, ‘You tell her or I will’. Bells ringing?”

After a prolonged moment of silence, Richard finally spoke up, “Yes. I know. Yes,” he chuckles nervously. “Harlan had finally decided to put his mom in a nursing home. And Linda has always opposed that. And I wanted to wait until we got back to Boston to tell Linda so, to avoid a whole scene, and Harlan wanted me to tell her then. That was it. Sorry. Forgot.”

You sighed, knowing he was lying. You knew you had never quite trusted him and now you had even more reason to feel that way.

🔍🔪🔎

“The house?” Joni questioned.

“Uh, early. Richard said you were there,” Blanc replied.

“I was at the house early.”

“To see Harlan?”

“To see Harlan. Yes.”

“What were you seeing Harlan about?”

“It was just a mix-up with the, uh, the payment for Meg’s tuition.”

“I’m sorry to press, but what kind of mix-up?”

“It was, uh, a money wiring issue,” Joni stumbled over her words slightly, “with the office at the school. So I had to ask Harlan to cut a check for the semester. No big deal.”

“Well… why don’t we just take a little break and we’ll resu-” you heard Elliot begin as movement started to occur below you, “Oh… no. She's gone.”

🔍🔪🔎

You hear footsteps outside approaching the room you and Marta are in. The voice of Lieutenant Elliott is muffled slightly by the walls around you.

“Oh, Harlan told me to give you this,” Marta pulls a small, black leather notebook from her cardigan’s pocket. She holds it out to you and you take it, looking at the plain cover.

“Ah… What is it?” you flip it over in your hands a few times, examining it.

“Harlan liked to write down ideas he could use in his books. I guess he knew you’d be the best one to continue his unfinished ideas.”

You smile at Marta’s reasoning and tuck the notebook into your pocket.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Marta and you both go silent and look over toward the window when you see the men approaching.

Marta kneels by the window to listen as Elliot explains that no one has a motive for murder.

“Where are you going?” you distinctly hear Elliott day moments before seeing Marta jump and gasp.

Your father opens the door and Marta stands.

“Harlan Thrombey’s nurse. Marta…” Blanc trails off, waiting for a response.

“Cabrera,” Marta replies, beautifully rolling her R’s.

“Marta Cabrera,” he repeats.

“Miss Cabrera, you can just wait inside and we’ll be with you in-” Wagner tries to say before being cut off by your father.

“Miss Cabrera.”

Marta walks outside and you glance at your father before following her outside. He closes the door behind you.

“I’ve been doin’ a little pokin’,” your father explains to Marta, “you were hired on a part-time basis as a registered nurse, yes?”

“Uh, yes. I don’t work for a VNA. Harlan hides me directly,” Marta replies nervously.

“Take a seat, please,” Blanc nods for both you and Marta to sit. Marta sits tensely on the couch, you picking the seat across from her. Your father takes the seat next to you. “And you’re paid a flare rate,” he continues, “for how many hours a week?”

“Um… well, I started at 15, and then he… he needed more help.”

“Medical help?”

Marta looks at him in silence and then glances at you. You smile gently, offering her reassurance before she responds, “He needed a friend.”

“Does having a kind heart make you a good nurse?”

Lieutenant Elliott tries to stop Blanc, but to no avail.

“Marta, we were just discussing possible motives in the family. I suspect that Harlan has told you much unfiltered truth about each of ‘em. And a little bird has told me, how shall I put this delicately… You have a regurgitative reaction to mistruthin’.”

You bite your lip slightly and look away from Marta. You know exactly who his ‘little bird’ was.

🔍🔪🔎

Your phone buzzed. You had just finished getting ready for the memorial service and were walking down the stairs. The name read “Maybe: B. Blanc”. You rolled your eyes. You hadn’t talked to your father in years and of all the days to text you, it has to be the day of the memorial service for Harlan?

‘What can you tell me about Harlan Thromeby’s family, Y/n?’ his text to you read.

‘We haven’t talked in years and I don’t even get a hello?’ you respond.

‘You don’t answer my calls. Please, Y/n, I know you know them.’

‘I don’t see what this has to do with anything, but I’m going to be late to the service so fine. Most of them can and will lie apart from Meg and Marta.’

‘Marta was his nurse, yes?’

‘Yes. Meg is honest most of the time and Marta throws up when she lies.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

You turned off your phone before grabbing your coat and the keys to the Beemer.

🔍🔪🔎

“Who told you that?” Marta questions, sounding even more nervous and causing you to feel worse about spilling.

“Is it true?” your father presses, wanting to spare you.

“Uh… yes. It’s something I’ve had since I was a kid. It’s a physical thing that I… just the thought of lying… yeah, it-it makes me puke.”

“Really?” Elliott and Wagner try to hide their silent chuckling at how ridiculous they think it sounds. Marta looks uncomfortable.

“Dad…” you try to warn him against whatever he’s planning.

“Is Richard havin’ an affair?” he asks, wanting to test his theory.

Marta gulps slightly and takes a steadying breath. “Richard?”

Blanc hums in affirmation.

“An affair?”

“Yeah. A yes or no will do.”

Marta shake her head slightly, looking off already.

“Mmm… no,” she does her best to stay calm.

Blanc clicks his tongue and hums to himself slightly. You look at him nervously, knowing what comes next. Marta quickly runs over to a vase and pukes, earning an “Oh shit!” from Lieutenant Elliott as well as an “Oh, my God!” from Trooper Wagner.

“Dear girl, I’m sorry. I assumed you were speaking figuratively,” Blah apologizes, offering her tissues.

“She wasn’t,” you mutter under your breath as Elliott gives Marta a glass of water.

“But I was obviously right. Richard is having an affair. His father-in-law found out and confronted him. ‘You tell her or I will’,” Blanc confirms aloud.

“Okay, but even if that were the case, he-” Marta chokes on her water slightly in the midst of Elliott’s remark. After confirming that she’s ok, he continues, “Even if that were the case, I mean, protecting a relationship as a motive, that’s weak sauce. You know that.”

“Well, then there is Joni,” Blanc inputs.

“Joni? Lifestyle guru Joni? No, Harlan was supporting her and her daughter and that’s the opposite of a motive,” Wagner shuts down your father’s suggestion.

“And if that support was threatened,” Marta tries to sneak inside, but Blanc stops her.

“I just wanna get some Scope,” Marta pleads. Blanc goes over and shuts the door.

“I’ll get it for you,” you pat Marta’s shoulder and go inside to get her some Scope as your father asks if Harlan was going to cut off Joni’s allowance.

🔍🔪🔎

You find Marta inside when you return with some Scope. You hand it off to her and she says a quiet “thank you” before walking off to a bathroom.

You sit down in the room to listen to the men outside.

“Walk me through everyone’s whereabouts at the time of death,” your father requests.

“Well, we know that the party ended around 11:30. Marta took Harlan upstairs to give him his meds. The stairs leading up to Harlan’s bedroom and his attic office creak horribly and Linda is a light sleeper. So we know every time someone took the stairs that night. The first was when Joni heard a ka-thunk from somewhere above her in the house. She’s concerned about Harlan, so she goes up to investigate, waking Linda. Harlan was in his attic office with Marta. He explained that they had just knocked over the Go board. You know, that game with the grid and stones? They play it every night. He was fine, ‘go to bed’. So she did. Ten minutes later, Linda is awoken a second time by Marta leaving. Walt was smoking a cigar on the porch with his son. He saw her leave and drive off. Noted the time. Midnight. Fifteen minutes later, Linda is awoken for the third and final time by someone coming down the stairs. Harlan. Who came down for a midnight snack. Which Walt tried to discourage. Based on this, the medical examiner determined the time of death to be between 12:15 and 2:00 a.m. As Walt was finishing his cigar at about 12:30, Meg came home. She went straight to bed. Walt and Jacob turned in shortly after that. And sometime later that night, it’s undetermined, but possibly around 3:00 a.m., Meg woke up because the dogs were barking outside. She used the bathroom and went back to bed. That’s it. All right? Now everyone’s stories matched, every moment accounted for.”

“And there is no other staircase up to Harlan’s room?” Blanc inquires.

“None. Just the creaky one,” Elliott confirms.

“Interesting…” your father says, thinking.

“So, uh, we know that Ransom didn’t do it because he wasn’t there. Same goes for Y/n. Marta couldn’t have. Harlan was still alive when she left. Meg… Meg came home during the window of the time of death, right?” Wagner suggests.

“Except it was a suicide, all right?” Elliot cuts him off, “Harlan skit right through his carotid. We saw from the blood splat patterns that they were uninterrupted, meaning it’s almost impossible for anyone to have been around him at the time. He’s the one that cut his own throat, all right? I don’t know why we keep going over this.”

“Physical evidence can tell a clear story with a forked tongue,” you say at the same time as your father, you mimicking his Southern drawl. He always said that.

“What?” Elliot questions.

“And as we can see from this mornin’,” your father continues, “everyone can lie. Well, almost everyone.”

🔍🔪🔎

You sit in the chair at the piano where your father had been sitting previously. You had managed to convince him to let you stay in the room for Marta’s questioning.

You skim through the journal from Harlan as you listen to your father question Marta.

“Miss Cabrera, um… we kept you waiting all afternoon because I wanted to hear from you last. I needed an entire picture of the evening in my head, and your piece of it is at it’s very center. So, please, take your time. You took Mr.Thrombey upstairs at 11:30 and left at midnight. Think very carefully and with as much detail as possible. Tell us what happened in that half hour?” your father requests as he flips his coin.

Marta takes a deep breath and looks to you for reassurance. You give her a small smile.

“I took him upstairs. We played our nightly game of Go. At some point, he knocked the board over and Joni came up to check on us. Um… I gave him pain medication. He pulled his shoulder last week. Um… and I left him in his study. At midnight, I said goodbye to Walt, went home.”

“What kind of medication did you give him?” Elliott asks.

“Since his injury, I've been giving him a 100 milligram IV push of Toradol. It’s a non-narcotic analgesic. And to help him sleep, three milligrams of morphine.”

“And the family was aware of this?” Elliott asked for specification.

“Yes, of course,” Marta reassures him.

“Did you notice anything strange or off about his demeanor?”

“No,” Marta answers, almost silently.

“Well, that sounds about right,” Blanc replies gently, “Thank you, Miss Cabrera.”

Marta gets up and leaves the room. And you follow soon after, wanting to ask her about the last thing you read in the journal.

🔍🔪🔎

“Stomach bug or something. I think everything that’s happened recently has gotten to him, but he’d never admit that, you know how Ransom is,” you explain to Meg about Ransom’s absence.

Fran is talking with Marta, explaining the plot of some Hallmark movie for whatever reason. Marta doesn’t seem to be focused on their conversation.

Maybe all the questioning has gotten to her.

“Does Marta seem ok to you?” you ask Meg under your breath so only she’ll hear.

Meg sips her drink and subtly looks over at Marta. She shakes her head slightly, noticing Marta looking slightly queasy.

“Meg to the rescue?” you suggest.

“Meg to the rescue,” she agrees with a light chuckle, putting her drink down.

Meg goes over to Marta as she loses her balance. Meg helps Marta steady herself and reminds her to breathe. You walk over to them as well.

“Hey, Marta, are you ok?” you ask gently, voice filled with sympathy. She shakes her head ‘no’ in reply.

“Fran, do you still have your stash?” Meg inquires. The housekeeper smiles slightly and leads you into another room with a crackling fireplace.

You and Meg help Marta to the room. She paces in the room as you watch her in concern. Fran pulls a drawer out from the base of the clock on the mantel above the fireplace. She pulls out a white joint from the drawer.

“Take ‘em whenever you need ‘em. They’re just drying out since you gave me that Juul,” Fran offers.

“Thanks, Fran,” Meg takes the joint and lights it with a lighter she stores in her pocket.

“I’m sorry,” Marta repeats as Meg tries to reassure her that everything is ok, “My heart won’t stop… it’s just everything...”

Meg holds the joint out to Marta, offering it to her. Marta declines and you do the same when Meg offers it to you. Meg takes a hit herself before scrunching her nose in disapproval and tossing it in the fire.

“That’s where Fran keeps her stash?” Marta questions.

“Who’s gonna open a clock?” Meg chuckles lightly. “I’ll be right back, ok?” She leaves the room with a sly smile.

You can hear Walt in the other room loudly trying to offer Nana something to eat, most likely getting no response.

“Hey, Marta… I have a question for you. I wanted to ask earlier but I didn’t get a chance.”

Marta looks up at you and nods for you to continue, still seeming on edge.

You pull Harlan’s notebook out of your pocket that Marta had given you earlier. You flip to the last page Harlan had written on.

“So, I was reading through this and I think Harlan wrote in this the night he died,” you begin, earning a silent nervous gulp from Marta.

“He wrote in it a lot. Whenever he had ideas for his books…” she states, attempting to stop whatever thoughts are in your head.

“I’m sure he did, I was just wondering why he seemed so fascinated by the idea of a morphine injection overdose. In a large house in the countryside, where an ambulance would take maybe 15 minutes to get to and the victim would be dead 10 minutes after injection. Given the antidote, Naloxone, is not administered. Anything you want to tell me?” you keep your voice low, making sure no one else will overhear.

“Y/n, I-I can explain, please don’t-”

“I know. I won’t say a word. I trust you Marta, you’re a kind, sweet person. I know you’d never hurt anyone intentionally. I just want to know what happened.”

“Just between us?”

“Of course”

Just before Marta can explain, Meg comes back into the room, followed by Walt.

He glances at you and you can feel the tension between you two already. You know he’ll have something to say about publishing your books now that Harlan isn’t around to supervise him. You purse your lips and, deciding it’s best to leave them alone, slip outside for a breath of fresh air.

You walk out onto the back patio and take a deep breath of the crisp, autumnal night air. You sigh, releasing the breath and look up to the glistening stars littered across the sky.

You smile to yourself, thinking about all the times you and Ransom would sneak outside during family parties to avoid everyone and just watch the stars together.

When you’d start to get cold, he’d always give you his jacket and hold you close so you could feel his warmth. Just thinking about that makes you feel warmer inside.

“Sick of them already?” the sudden noise of the familiar voice makes you jump slightly.

“Some of them, yes. I just wanted some fresh air. What are you still doing here, dad? I thought you left.”

“I know you probably want me to leave, Y/n, but I wanted to talk to you,” Blanc replies, walking over to stand next to you.

“Talk about what? We haven’t talked in years, I thought I made it clear that I was done with talking to you,” you say, more harsh than you intended.

Blanc looks down and sighs, “I’m sorry, Y/n. I really am. I know it’s too late for apologizin’, but I need you to hear it from me. I wasn’t there when you needed me and I should’ve been. I shirked my duties as your father, putting too much at a higher priority than you. I’m sorry.”

🔍🔪🔎

You had only been about 7. Your mother, father, and you lived in a beautiful ranch style home down south. Your mother had been in the hospital for a few days. You were slightly too young to comprehend everything that was going on.

Your father had told you that your mother was sick and would be home soon.

“Once the doctors say she’s better,” he had assured you.

Your father spent most of his time at the hospital with your mother. Sadly, you weren’t allowed to go because of the hospital rules and age restrictions.

You had come home from school one day to see your father on the couch, hiding his face in his hands. You smiled, happy to see him home before you for once.

You ran over to hug him, only to see his cheeks soaked with tears. You froze, trying to think of why he would be crying.

He slowly pulled you into a hug and held you in his lap as you laid your head against his chest.

You looked up at him, about to ask what had gotten him so upset, but you didn’t need to.

“Your mother… isn’t with us anymore, Y/n…” he told you as gently as he possibly could.

“What?” you whispered as your eyes filled with tears. Would you never get to see your mother again? How was she that sick? She had seemed fine a few days ago before she went to the hospital.

“She’s in a better place, she’ll be happy, ok? She wouldn’t want you to worry, she’d want you to be happy, yes?” Blanc gently wiped your tears and held you close to him as you continued to cry, giving him a slight nod. Your mother has always said you were strong. You didn’t want to disprove her right then.

“We’ll be fine… we’ll be ok,” he kept reassuring you as you both cried, mourning your mother.

🔍🔪🔎

He had held true to his word for a little while after that day. You two were as close as ever. You moved to Boston and he let you help him for some cases, beginning your career as a mini Nancy Drew.

But eventually he had gotten wrapped up in his work. He seemed to focus more on mysteries than you, his own child. By high school you had pulled away and tried to spend most of your time out of the house. You started telling everyone your last name was L/n and once you met a certain blue eyed playboy, you spent a majority of your time with him.

🔍🔪🔎

“I don’t think it’s too late for an apology,” you admit softly, not looking at Blanc.

“Is that forgiveness I hear?” he asks, an audible smirk present in his tone.

“So what if it is?” your tone softens to playful as you smile, looking up to the sky again.

“Well, I was hopin’ to have some help on this case. What do you say? You can write mysteries, but can you still solve them?”

“You didn’t call me Nancy Drew for nothing. I’m in,” you reply confidently.

“Good, I’m glad to have you back, Y/n.”

“Thanks… wait, you said I can write mysteries…. does that mean you’ve actually read my books?”

“Of course, I like to keep an eye on what you’ve been doing. You’ve done well for yourself,” he glances over at you, looking at the engagement ring you’ve been absentmindedly adjusting and readjusting this whole time.

“I have,” you reply proudly. Your pride fades slightly as you realize he knows about the engagement, “I suppose you’ll have to meet him sometime, huh?”

“I suppose I will.”

You nod and look down at the ground, taking another breath of the chilled, crisp air.

“Think you can get Marta to join us tomorrow?” Blanc asks you.

“Probably, why her?”

“I trust her kind heart. Also she had nothing to gain from Harlan’s death.”

“Look, you asked me what I know about the family. I know this: none of them are murderers. I really don’t understand why you need to keep investigating, it wasn’t them.”

“And yet, be it cruel or comforting, this machine unerringly arrives at the truth. That’s what it does.”

“Right,” you say quietly with a slight nod, “see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow at 8:00.”

You turn back around, and grab your coat and keys without anyone making a fuss. You wave to Meg before slipping out the front door.

🔍🔪🔎

You hear Dodger barking as you open the front door, walking into your house. He runs over to you and tackles you, licking your face all over happily.

“I missed you too, Dodger! Have you been taking care of Ransom?” you scratch behind his ears as he continues to wag his tail, looking at you with pure love.

“He definitely has,” Ransom replies, walking down the stairs and over to you. You smile as he holds his hands out to help pull you up. Once you’re back on your feet, he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Welcome back, Y/n, how was it?”

“Manageable,” you bite your lip slightly, not exactly wanting to tell Ransom about your father yet.

“Hmm then what’re you hiding?” he asks, immediately noticing your nervous habit.

“Damn it, Ransom,” you lightly punch his arm, earning a chuckle from him. “Can we talk about this later? I’m hungry and tired, not a good combination.”

“Well, we can’t let the fair maiden go hungry!” Ransom declares dramatically as he takes your hand and drags you into the kitchen. You sit at the counter, laughing lightly, glad that he seems to be happy again.

Ransom starts cooking (your favorite food) because he knows you love it. Dodger follows him closely, hoping he’ll drop some morsel of food. You send a quick text to Marta, telling her to meet you at the house at 8:00 tomorrow so you can help Blanc. You add that you still want to know about what you read in the journal.

Once he finishes cooking, he places the plate in front of you, giving a small piece to Dodger because no one can resist the puppy dog eyes.

“Approved,” you praise, taking your first bite of the delicious food. Ransom smiles at you, somehow winning your heart all over again. That damn beautiful smile will be the death of you.

🔍🔪🔎

“How do you feel?” you ask as you snuggle into his chest in your bed. He wraps his arms around you, gently but firmly holding you to him as he kisses the top of your head.

“Much better, I think I just needed the rest. I’m definitely going to the will reading tomorrow,” he says and you can hear a smirk playing at his lips.

“I thought you said Harlan was cutting you out of the will?”

“I still want to go.”

“Ok… whatever, weirdo.”

🔍🔪🔎

You wake up to your phone buzzing on the nightstand next to you. You reach over tiredly and turn on the phone, suddenly blinded by the light of a million suns. You turn the screen brightness all the way down which is only at the level of a thousand suns now.

You see that Marta is the one trying to call you so you pick up, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out as a quiet rasp as you try to not wake Ransom.

“Y/n, I need to tell you before tomorrow…” her voice shakes slightly.

“Tell me what…? Is this about the journal?”

“Y/n, I killed Harlan.”

Pt. 2

#ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #xreader #fanfic #knives out fanfiction

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