No one knows where the golds are, only your father, I repeated Fernando’s words in my head. I was certain that I knew where my father hid them, and he entrusted those to me that’s why I became the new keeper. Why did he come up to that conclusion? Did the Houstons know that I hid the golds?
“You know that my father’s dead, right?” I said, my tone was laced with resentment. “And the treasure didn’t die along with him.”
The next day, Gwen, Miguel, and I left the hotel in the afternoon along with William’s men. We would be heading to the person Miguel was referring to yesterday and we would try to talk to him or her about Fernando. To be honest, I was full of anticipation and I was being optimistic about the outcome. I wouldn’t deny, I was still a little nervous.We were inside the car and Miguel was in the driver’s seat. Gwen was sitting at the back while I was on the shotgun.
“I met up with our father yesterday,” Miguel said and it received a baffled reaction from Paola.Her eyes widened and she stiffened on her seat as she stared at Miguel.
The whole ride on the way back to the hotel was quiet. We immediately left Paola’s house after the conversation we had, and Miguel didn’t choose to persuade her more for he understood her situation. All that I could do at that moment was empathize with her for her loss and we did everything we could to not make her feel bad about not helping us. Miguel also had told her to go to their mother which Paola instantly declined since she felt hesitant to show up to him. Then we all bid her goodbye along with Xavier.
I was running so fast that I could hear my heavy heart pounding rapidly, as my knees began to weaken. I was shot on my left arm, and the blood continuously ran down to the back of my hand. The piercing sound of gunfire echoed loudly in this place, as darkness covered the surroundings, making it easy to lose your way out. When I heard some heavy footsteps, running towards my direction, I suddenly stopped and hid behind the bar. My breath became heavier, as I thought about what I had gotten myself into. It wasn't supposed to end like this. It got beyond what was planned, I whined to myself. Suddenly, a silhouette of a masculine man started approaching, so I covered my mouth to hush my unstable breathing. I couldn't move, and I froze to where I was hiding. Then I started roaming my eyes in front to search for a weapon but unfortunately, I saw nothing but shards of alcohol bottles. I should've known this would happen. Because before this could even get w
I parked my newly bought car in front of our house. I got out of it and confidently moved my way to the massive gate, greeted by the two guards in their uniform. I was wearing sunglasses which made them hardly recognize me, so they examined my presence, studying me from head to toe. "Do you have any appointment with Sir Jones?" the bald guard asked, standing right in front of me with the humungous gate laying in between us. I slowly removed my sunglasses and raised my eyebrows to them. "As a matter of fact I live here, and my appointment is clearly to continue living here." The look on their faces was amusing. They weren't happy; rather they were shocked and anxious. They felt rushed and quickly pressed the button for the gate of Jones' Mansion to open. I went back to my car and started the engine. Driving along the cemented driveway, I admired every bit of the exterior while my eyes lingered around. The lush orchids and landscapes were welco
Acceptance in a family was inevitable, no matter how wrong your choices in life were. That's just how it worked.But not for us.In our family, we didn't need anyone getting in our way to success because we had it all. But not for long. Once my father's hard work was put in the hands of the traitor, everything would fall apart. The new CEO would be Mom's biggest advantage now that my father was gone. But still, she wasn't assured that Hansel's loyalty would forever give her benefit, now that I was here to sabotage her evil alliance with Jones' enemies.Yesterday, we had champagnes for the celebration of Hansel's success. They introduced me as the youngest member of the company— another lie they had to tell, so paparazzi would not suspect anything to put Jones' reputation at risk. Some officers thought I was a celebrity which I found absurd. They didn't even recognize that I was the long lost daughter. Fortunately, I had only been in the company twice when
"Oh hi um— actually. . . " I stuttered and struggled to speak properly. "I forgot my pen." I ran my hand at the back of my neck sheepishly.He chuckled, tugging a smile. I took the pen out of his hand and mouthed thank you."Have we met before?" he asked, eyebrows drawn together. He had a thick and rough accent which undeniably sounded nice."Not quite sure but thanks for this." I smiled, raising the pen in gratitude.I heaved a sigh of relief, and I couldn't help but curl my lips into a smile."I think I'm having a deja vu." He chuckled and ran his hand through his curls. "What's your name?"He smiled again, flashing his pearly white teeth. He seemed bright though, as crinkles started to form by his eyes."Lala. Lala Preston." I extended my hand forward for a handshake and sheepishly smiled in return.He clasped my hand with his large, warm one, and I couldn't help the tingles starting to form in my stomach
The room was dusty, dark, and tight. Hansel ushered me to a storage filled with a lot of folders. The light flickered and the dust tingled my nose, causing me to sneeze uncontrollably. Did he forget I had allergic rhinitis? I was starting to hate him for this.I rolled my eyes in frustration and kicked the crate with too much force than I intended. Heaving a sigh, I looked down on the scraps scattered on the floor. The crate was opened, papers spilling out of it. How was I the one to fix this? Was he even serious?I crouched in front of the pile of papers and started picking everything up. From my curiosity, my eyes began to trail on the texts, reading every detail of what seemed like a research. There was even a newspaper hidden with these papers. With my nosiness, I read it."Jack Houston's murder case had been compromised," I read through the headline, mumbling to myself. What was the newspaper doing with these folders?