Chapter -

Francis stared at the ground as the preacher droned on, trying to tell himself over and over that it wasn't real. That it was all just a dream. That, of course, wasn't true, was it? He shook his head and looked up, refusing to cry in front of the other people in the crowd. Looking around at all of the nicely dressed people in black as they came to mourn the dead. He almost scoffed. None of them probably even knew who died, they were only here because they had money. They were here, to suck up to the head of the Jones family.

Letting out a small sigh, he let his eyes drop back to the ground. "What was his name, again, Alice?" He whispered to himself. His mind strained to remember before a voice seemed to penetrate through the cloud of sorrow.

'His name is Alfred. I remember you telling me that you loved that name.'

Francis bit his lip as he remembered how weak her voice sounded as she said that in the hospital. She was dying because she gave birth. His love would not live to see her son grow up. Clenching his eyes shut, he continued to listen to the voice playing back in his memory.

'Take care of him, Francis… love him… he's yours.' After she had said that, her body seemed to go limp, her eyes losing their brightness.

He stopped, his eyes shooting open. He whispered almost silently, "He's mine… my son… Alfred is my son… Thank you, Alice… Thank you." And with that, he allowed himself to cry.

Present day

Francis woke with a start, sitting up in the uncomfortable hospital chair he had dozed off in. Looking up, he saw Alfred laying in the only bed in the room, various tubes and wires connected to him. He stood and went over to his side, reaching over to brush his hair out of his face. "You don't even know yet… you still think that you're the son of Andrew… the man who married into wealth…" Francis scoffed at the thought. Alice had wished to marry Francis, but her parents had arranged a marriage with a 'proper gentleman', being old fashioned as they were.

"Maybe… if I had married her instead, you would've have been able to see your mother… maybe…" his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He looked up, seeing two officers and with them a small Asian boy. "Kiku?"

Before the boy could answer, one of the officers spoke up. "We found him locked in the basement in our search through the house."

"Mon dieu, are you alright?" Francis looked at him, concerned.

"Yes, I am… is… Alfred alright?" Kiku asked. He had obviously been crying since he heard about what had happened.

"He is stable for now." Francis motioned for him to come closer. When he did so, the blond pulled him into a hug and Kiku clung to him like a life line.

"I'm scared, Francis." Kiku sobbed quietly as Francis simply nodded his head.

"I know, I am too. But he will make it through this, Kiku. He is strong," came his soft reply, trying to help the young Japanese boy understand.

One of the officer's spoke up, pulling their attention back to them. "We also found this in a case of documents that Mr. Jones was hiding. It looks to be a will from the Mrs before she passed."

Nodding, Francis took it from him and peeled it open, noting right away that it was in her handwriting. "Thank you, officers. I'll hold onto it from Alfred."

They nodded. "You're welcome, but may we have a word? We have a few questions we'd like to ask, Mr. Bonnefoy."

Francis nodded and followed them out, leaving Kiku alone with Alfred. The boy walked over to his bed and took his hand, kissing the back of it. "Be alright, Alfred. I love you."

Once out of the room, he opened the will again and began reading over it, a specific group of words drawing his attention. 'I leave everything to Alfred, my son, and the one who fathered him.' His heart clenched a bit painfully, rereading it again and again. "She left… everything to Alfred and me?" He mumbled out loud, confusing the officers.

"Sir, unless you're the boy's father, she left everything to her husband. And with him in jail and possibly going to a psychiatric ward, maybe prison, depending on what they rule, that leaves everything to the son."

"Non, you don't understand… I am Alfred's father! Take a sample of blood if you must and test it with his." Francis looked at him desperately. If that man did ever get back out in the world, he didn't want him to go right back to being in charge of the estate.

One of the men sighed and shook his head a bit before looking back up at him. "Alright, fine, lets go."

111

A few days had passed since he had let his blood get compared to Alfred's blood and he was starting to doubt that he was actually his father. What if Alice had lied to him about it, or there had been a misunderstanding between them. What if she just meant for him to consider him as his own. He cursed quietly and paced back and forth, before being interrupted by the phone. He picked it up and answered. "Hello?"

"Yes, Mister Bonnefoy? We're going to have to have you come down to the station."

"A-Ah, yes, I'll be right there." He quickly hung up before getting his jacket on and heading to the car. "God I am an idiot…"

111

Yeah, yeah, I know it's short but my brain has been running into a lot of blocks lately, but the good thing is that I updated and I didn't forget about this story!