STRANGLED

"Are you sure about this?" 

Sylvia smiled at her boss- well ex-boss considering she had just submitted her resignation letter. 

"Yes," she replied. 

Her boss, a Scottish man with beady eyes and red hair scattered sparsely across his bald head, dropped her resignation letter to the table and clasped his hands. 

"If you need time off to grieve, I can give you that Sylvia. It's been a week since your Da died and I know it's hard. I can remember when I lost mine too. I was a wee lad, y'know?"

"Cam, don't make this so hard-"

"No," he said stubbornly. "You're one of our best chefs. You can't just resign. If you want time off, I'll give it to you. Go, grieve, and come back-"

"I don't know if I'll come back, Cam!" She yelled, feeling pressured and uncomfortable. 

She had felt that way all week. Pressured. Carrying a heavy burden on her chest that she could tell to no one. Who would believe her anyways? Nobody. No one would. Everyone in the entire world believed that her father had slipped and drowned in a pool. The press had been at his funeral five days ago, snapping and clicking at their cameras like a bunch of crabs. 

The headlines in the papers, blogs, and articles all highlighted how Ben Baker had died. Drowned in a pool. 

Liars! Sylvia thought with a fury that burned and raged within her bones. All of them were liars. She knew the truth. She knew her father hadn't drowned to death. Leonard Wells may have wanted to look like an angel, but she knew very well what a devil he could be. 

"What do you mean? You're moving?" Cam asked. His brows were raised so high up in shock, his eyes no longer looked beady.  

"Kind of," she mumbled. "Look I just, I don't know if I'll be coming back at all Cam. It's not fair to you or the diner. I'm sure you'll find someone better." 

Someone who isn't about to commit murder, she wanted to add as she walked out of his office. 

She could still recall the results of the autopsy she had carried out secretly, the night before her father was buried. She could see the verdict, the black ink pressed against the white document. 

Cause of death: Strangled

Her father had been strangled to death and then tossed in the pool by his murderer. And Leonard had the guts to hide that from her. He had to be guilty. There was more to the whole story and he wanted to hide it all from her!

"Over my dead body," she spat as she sprinted across the street. When she had gotten a job at Cam's diner, it felt like all her dreams and wishes had come true.

She lived across the street, with her father and finally, she could repay him for taking care of her all this while. She could be everything to him just as he was to her. Her eyes watered as she made her way into her apartment and when the door was locked behind her, she allowed the tears to fall freely. 

Two years ago, after she had gotten her job at the diner, she had begged her father to resign. She had promised to take care of him. If only he hadn't been so stubborn! He would be alive and far from the evil that lived in the Wells Mansion. 

But Leonard Wells had been right about one thing. Her father was loyal to him. Loyal to a fucking fault. And what had loyalty gotten him? 

Death.

"I'll find him," she whispered. "Whoever did this to you Dad, I'll find him and kill him. I promise." 

*****

"Are the directors settled?" Leonard asked, striding towards his office alongside his bodyguard and personal assistant. 

"Yes sir. Everything is set. The transfer of ownership as well is being processed." The Personal assistant supplied.

"Good," He nodded, satisfied. Things were coming into order just how he liked it. 

"You have a visitor, however , sir. I've told her she cannot see you without an appointment, but she is quite insistent and said you would want to see her as well sir." His PA informed and he frowned. 

Who on earth could it be? No one he knew dared to be insistent. Everyone in New York knew they had to have an appointment to see him. When they reached his office, his bodyguard pushed open the door and he walked in. 

"Who is she?" He demanded, settling down in his seat. His office was on the top floor of Wells Empire, a fifty-story skyscraper that stood proudly in the center of New York City. 

"Miss Baker sir," 

Leonard rubbed a hand on his forehead, feeling a headache coming up at the mention of her name. Of course, it was her. Heck, she was probably trying to leech money out of him. Disgust rippled through him. That was the way greedy paupers were. If they saw an opportunity to get a lot of money, they took it as swiftly as possible. 

"Send her in, let's get this over with." He spat. 

Sylvia walked into Mr. Wells's office feeling smaller with each step she took. His office was larger than her whole apartment combined. It occupied almost the entire floor and right there in the middle of it was Leonard Wells, looking godlike in his black-as-night suit. 

"Welcome, Miss Baker. Take a seat."

Aware of his piercing gaze, she sat down as carefully as possible in the chair he had pointed to. 

"How may I help you?"

She didn't need anyone telling her he wasn't happy to see her. His tone of voice and the scowl on his face told her everything. Ignoring them, she wore the most vulnerable expression she could muster on her face, batting her hazel eyes innocently. 

"Ah... I'm sorry Mr. Wells. I didn't mean to trouble you." 

The arrogant man nodded, waving his hand dismissively. "Just state what you want and be gone." 

"Well," she said through quivering lips. "I got fired because I took too much time to grieve. My boss couldn't take it anymore and I," she sniffled, willing tears to her eyes. "I can't survive without a job. My dad's gone, my job's gone and I truly have no one else to turn to Mr. Wells," 

If she had thought she would see the remorse on his face, she had hoped in vain. The man before her looked like she was bringing him great inconvenience. 

"And what job do you do?" Leonard asked, fed up with her sniffling. 

"A chef sir," she said with a small smile. "A chef."

****

"It's rare that the Master employs new people into the mansion. But you're Benny's daughter, an exception has to be made." Luna, the main chef of the Wells Mansion explained as she showed Sylvia around the house. 

"Dear God, it's huge!" She whispered as they walked through the hallway. It was gigantic, filled with framed pictures. For all the twenty years that her father had worked for them, she had never stepped into the mansion. The night he had died had been the first time and then she hadn't paid attention to the size of the house. 

After Mr. Wells had brought her with him and dumped her into the hands of Luna, Sylvia hadn't quite gotten over the size of the house. She doubted she would ever get over it. 

"How many wings are there?"

Luna chuckled at the young woman's awe. "Four. The East and the west wing are for visitors. The south is for us workers and the North wing's for the master and Young Master." 

Sylvia frowned. "Young Master? Mr. Wells' son?" 

Luna nodded and pointed to one of the framed pictures. A young man stared intensely at them. His eyes caught Sylvia's gaze first.  Deep forest green eyes that stared broodingly.  His brows were full and neatly trimmed. His hair, black as ever was tousled atop his head, slightly falling over his eyes. His lips were pressed into a fine line, fitting his square jaw so perfectly, Sylvia wondered if he was real or just a figment of her imagination. 

He was beautiful. And he was the son of her enemy. Shaking her head, she reminded herself of the reason why she was there in the first place. She was there for her father's killer.  Nothing else, not even the gorgeous David Wells, mattered. 

However that night, she could barely sleep. It might have been the fact that she was homesick, or perhaps it was the large bed. Whatever it was, Sylvia found herself walking through the mansion leisurely at one in the morning, dressed in a silver negligee and a robe draped over her figure. 

She had gone through her father's journal. The last entry he made was the day before he died.

'I might be killed for revealing this secret,'

"What secret?" She whispered to herself as she made her way towards the balcony. 

"Oh master David," A moan reached her ears, halting her thoughts and she froze still. 

Right there on the balcony, before her very eyes was David Wells pounding mercilessly into a maid against the balcony railing.