"What the hell is he doing here?"

Ali couldn't believe the sight before her. Not only was Jack Blackhorne, her ex-husband, the man who had cheated on her and then tried to blackmail her, standing not five feet away in her parent's kitchen, but her mother had walked in right after Jack as if this was a perfectly normal occurrence.

"Now Alexandria, that's no way to talk to Jack."

Ali's mouth fell open and she couldn't seem to grasp her mother's words. She blinked, hoping the vision before her would change. But Jack still stood there, an evil smirk plastered across his face.

"You're looking as radiant as ever Alexandria." His words crawled across her skin. "Is that little boy toy of yours around here somewhere?"

"It's fiancé now. And no, Sam's not here."

"Remember Jack. I told you she'd agreed to marry again." Her mother patted Jack's forearm, her hand lingering for a moment too long. Ali's stomach turned.

Jack turned his pale blue eyes as cold as ice towards Ali, raising one eyebrow slightly. A shiver ran through her, shadows from her past creeping in, reminding her what the look meant. During their marriage, Ali dreaded the expression. It was like a siren to her, signalling Jack's disappointment. This one small gesture preceded the silence, the isolation, the punishment. She gripped the counter behind her for support.

"That's right Lynn, you did mention it. I suppose congratulations are in order." His tone made his words sound like an insult rather than a compliment.

Her mouth was dry, the words she wanted to say stuck in her throat. Ali looked to her mother for help, but it was a lost cause. The older woman either disregarded the tone or refused to hear it, instead busying herself by rearranging a bouquet of colourful flowers on the kitchen table. Her mother was an expert at ignoring the obvious.

When the mental abuse had first started with Jack, Ali had confided in her mother, hoping to find guidance or solace. What she got was determination. Lynn Stinson had told her flat out that Ali had made her decision to marry Jack and she would have to live with the consequences. There had been some discussion about marriage being an adjustment, it took time to work out the kinks, to find ways to live together. It was suggested she work harder to please Jack. Or get pregnant. A baby brings happiness to a home.

Trying to explain to her mother it was more than growing pains, Ali described how something had changed in Jack. She tried to tell her how he was shutting her out, isolating her. Instead of understanding, Lynn had simply stopped listening to her.

Looking back on it now, Ali was relieved Jack had cheated on her. It made divorcing him barely acceptable to her parents. At first, they had tried to persuade Ali to try harder, as if it was her fault Jack had screwed his assistant. She had felt a sense of displeasure from them when she refused to back down. Only after the divorce was made public did her parents begrudgingly acknowledged her decision. This new development only added to the sense of discontentment that always hung in the air between her and her parents.

Daniel and Lynn Stinson had waited until later in life to have children. Ali was not sure they ever should have been parents. When they did finally decide to start a family, they quickly got pregnant and began planning for their new son, the heir to their fortune, the child to carry on the family name. For they were sure it was going to be a boy, simply not entertaining the idea of having a girl. Another possibility her mother ignored.

Ali didn't know for sure they were dismayed when the doctor pronounced a bouncing baby girl, but she sure felt it most of her life. They gave her the female version of the name they had selected. Alexander was Daniel Stinson's grandfather's name, the man who moved the family from the east to the west coast and established the family dynasty. Baby Alexander was destined to be the next in line to continue manifesting that destiny. Instead, they got Alexandria.

Fate intervened again, denying the couple a second attempt at getting it right. As a child, her mother was always going to doctor's appointments, consuming tonics, lying in bed for weeks. All to no avail. When it became clear nothing was going to happen, adoption was broached, a way of ensuring the outcome. Nothing ever came to fruition. Ali suspected her father wanted his bloodline to continue and wasn't interested in entertaining imposters.

It was a shame. Ali would have liked a little brother or sister to grow up with, to play with, to share the burden of overbearing parents. It wasn't meant to be and she was regulated to living in a world of adults, playing their games or being a pawn in them. It was a lonely existence.

Ali watched now as her mother kissed Jack on the cheek, thanking him for the flowers. Today her hair was platinum blonde, cut in a bob, falling just above her shoulders. Over the years, Lynn had dyed her hair so many different colours, to match her mood or what was en vogue. Only through looking at old photo's did Ali discover that her own ebony strands came from her mother, having never seen them in real life.

At last, she crossed the kitchen and hugged her daughter. It was a light embrace, lacking much warmth.

"Mom?" Had her mother aged in the last year? She looked thinner, frailer somehow. Her linen dress revealing a bumpy collarbone. Bright pink lipstick coating thin lips. Too much makeup covering deep shadows under her eyes. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine dear. It's been a bit stressful without your father around. But Jack here has been such a dear."

"Only doing what I can to help," Jack crooned.

Ali resisted the urge to slap the smug grin off of his face.

"Well, I'm here now. So, thank you, Jack." It hurt to even fake gratitude to her former abuser, "but we don't need you anymore."

"Please Alexandria, let's not be unpleasant. Jack's family."

This was getting surreal. "Mother," Ali matched the other woman's formality in an attempt to be heard, "Jack is no longer family. We're divorced."

With a wave of her hand, her mother dismissed Ali's pleas. Ali mentally rolled her eyes before trying a different tactic. "I'm sure Jack needs to be getting back to his own life, his own home." Whatever den of antiquity he was living in these days.

Jack's eyes leapt with excitement at her words. Ali felt an all to familiar cold shiver pass through her. Whatever he was about to say, she was not going to like it.

"I live here now."

All former shock paled in comparison to this bombshell. Had she landed in an alternative dimension? Was the sun going to rise in the west tomorrow morning? Was the sun going to rise at all? Was Jack trying to replace her father?

Ali could feel the blood pounding in her ears. She swivelled her gaze between her docile mother and the preening Jack. Nope, this was not happening.

"Mother... is this true?"

Her mother at least had the decency to look away. A thousand questions begged to burst forth from Ali. Did Jack have a key? She didn't even have one to her parent's house. Did he just come and go as he pleased? Where exactly was he sleeping? Was the new maid his doing? Was he sleeping with her? Ali's mind was a whirlwind of suspicions. But most of all, she wanted to know what was Jack getting out of this arrangement. Because with Jack there had to be an ulterior motive.

Gathering her wits about her, Ali forced her voice to remain calm. "If he is going to be here, I'm leaving."

"Alexandria, stop with the drama. Just because you are no longer married, doesn't mean you can't be civil. It's so nice to have Jack around."

Standing behind her mother, Jack's sneer widened. He was enjoying this, getting high off of the disharmony between mother and daughter, the discomfort it was causing her. And Ali was no longer in the business of bringing joy to Jack Blackhorne.

"You know what mom, your right. I'm the one who doesn't belong here." Pushing past the pair she headed for the door. "I'll leave."

Her mother had the decency to follow her with feigned appeals of misunderstandings. Ali told her not to bother. It was best for all of them. She would meet her at the hospital in the morning, emphasizing they would be visiting her sick father.

Outside, the dim light of the front porch pooled around Ali as she ordered a rideshare. She groaned when the app informed her it was a 40-minute wait to be picked up. She considered calling George, but he was probably halfway home by now.

Scanning the grounds before her, Ali's eyes hit on the carriage house. Ali bit her lip, trying to decide if she was brave enough. Before she knew it, she was dragging her suitcase across the driveway.

Turning on the lights, the 6-car bay was full. A sleek dark sports car sat in the first bay. Jack's McLaren no doubt. He was obsessed with the car, but not because of its power or performance. When a new model came out, sure enough, he had to be among the first in the area to get it. It was a status symbol; another means of displaying his wealth for all the world to see. Often, she wondered if he even liked driving the car.

For a moment she considered finding a tire iron to take out her frustrations caused by its owner. Reason prevailed, deciding it was not the car's fault. Besides, it was not what she was after.

Passing by her mother's Range Rover, the prized Bentley, the truck and the two golf carts, Ali headed straight for the small car at the end of the garage. She yanked the dusty cover off and smiled at the hidden prize - her father's 1965 Aston Martin convertible. Running her hand along the racing car green fender, memories of sunny drives came to life.

There were few times in her life when Ali could remember being genuinely happy around her father. Most of them had happened in this car. Just the two of them, her mother refusing to get in because it would ruin her hair. Ali had loved the feel of the wind whipping her hair about. The thrill of accelerating away from their troubles, zipping in and out of traffic like they ruled the road, leaning back and watching the sky slip by, completely secure in her father's capacity to handle the power of this little car.

Moments later Ali was driving down the coastal road, top down, wind in her hair once again, on her way to a place free of Jack Blackhorne's touch.

Hi all! D. L. Croisette here. Oh Jack, you do love to cause problems.

Did you know Jack gave an interview? It's in my "Interviews With Your Favourite Characters" Book. The fun part is you can ask Jack your own question.

You can read the interview here. ----->