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Chapter 22: Marcel's Transition
Last Updated:
2025-01-16 05:09:12
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The loud, purposeful knock on the door broke the tension that had been growing in the room, resonating like a drumbeat. Williams squinted at me as his hand automatically reached for his phone, probably bracing himself for whatever surprise twist lay ahead. He had the expression of a guy who was aware that everything around him was about to fall apart and that the thread holding it all together was gradually thinning with each second that went by.For a time, the unknown held me motionless. Was Marcel threatening again? Or maybe someone else—someone who had been secretly manipulating strings? I walked over to the door and clutched the handle with a shaking palm. I had the impression that I was standing on the brink of something irrevocable because of something weighty in the air at the time.I wasn't expecting to see Sophia standing there with flawless makeup and a shrewd, calculated smile when I opened it. She had the appearance of a predator in high fashion.She said, "Hello, Freda,"
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Even after Sophia had left, I could still hear the door slamming, as if her poisonous words were still haunting the room. As I glanced down at the pile of documents she had left behind, my hands began to shake. Every word on the page shouted deceit, manipulation, and a complex web of lies for which I was unprepared. I had been participating in a game that I was unaware I had joined. Now, though? The regulations were different now. Something inside of me stirred for the first time since entering this world of riches, power, and deceit—an ember of defiance, a refusal to break beneath the weight of it all. Sophia was going to get a harsh surprise if she believed she could ruin me. With the city lights extending infinity in front of me, I slammed the papers onto the table and marched to the window. I had had enough of being a pawn; solutions were waiting somewhere. I discovered Williams in his study the following morning, his crisp suit immaculate as usual, but his face etched wit
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Aside from the slight crackle of the fireplace, the room was silent. Sophia threw the mess into my lap, and I had to sort through everything after Williams left hours ago to go to yet another late-night meeting. With shaky fingertips, I touched the edge of the file, the name Sophia Harrington gazing back at me accusingly.The thought that Sophia might be telling the truth made my chest constrict, even though I couldn't trust her. The tone of the note, which was sarcastic, disturbed me. Someone wanted to play games and was more knowledgeable about my past than I was.I was deep in meditation when there was a strong knock on the door. I didn't think anyone would show up.With caution and a firm voice in spite of the fury roaring inside of me, I said, "Come in."Marcel entered with an unreadable expression as the door creaked open. Tonight, he seemed different, his customary haughtiness subdued by an unidentified factor.Without introducing himself, he stated, "We need to talk."I leaned
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The penthouse's curtains let in sunlight, which filled the space with gentle golden tones. I watched the city below come to life as I stood by the window. This moment, a brief respite from the storm, felt oddly serene despite the chaos all around us."Did you get any sleep?" There was silence until Williams spoke.He was leaning against the doorway with his shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his tie undone when I turned around. His typically polished manner gave way to something more human and vulnerable."Not really," I said with my arms crossed. "I'm thinking about too much."He approached me with purposeful strides. "I don't hold you responsible. It was unexpected last night."Unexpected?" I arched an eyebrow. One way to put it is that. Williams, there was a murder in front of us. It's not like you can simply brush that off.He came to a halt next to me, staring at the skyline. "You handled it better than most people would, even though I know it's overwhelming."I couldn't contain
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The penthouse's air felt heavier than usual, as though the walls were listening. Williams walked back and forth across the room, his keen eyes darting to the mysterious note on the coffee table. We had discovered it hours earlier, but the caution, "Trust no one," was still gnawing at the back of my mind. You underestimate how close they are.Williams whispered, "Marcel," his voice breaking the stillness.I raised my head. "How about him?""I've always understood that he had personal goals, but this..." He pointed to the note. "His craftsmanship is evident in this."My fingers clenched into fists as I scowled. "What would make Marcel oppose us? He should be preserving the Franklin legacy, right?”Williams's expression darkened as he stopped pacing. "Marcel has always been loyal to himself. He is more concerned with power than with his family. And he won't think twice about joining the Harringtons if it gives him that.”We made the decision to delve further the following day. Williams a
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My mind was racing, and the rhythmic sound of the rain beating on the penthouse windows did little to slow it down. With a glass of whisky in his hand and an unreadable face, Williams sat across from me and looked at the picture we had found the previous evening.In a low voice, he finally stated, "We need answers." "And I have finished waiting for them to reach us."Grasping the folded envelope in my lap, I nodded. I kept thinking about the note's dire warning: The enemy is inside. Never put your trust in anyone.I spoke more firmly than I felt when I said, "I think it's time we dig deeper into my adoption." “If the Harringtons are involved, something has never added up.”Williams's dark eyes met mine as he leaned forward. "Then, we didn't realise how long they had been playing this game."We went to see Mr. Graves, a retired lawyer who had handled my adoption, the following morning. His modest house stood in sharp contrast to the wealth and influence I had recently been dealing with
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The tense atmosphere in the room was oppressive. Williams was standing by the window, staring at the city skyline with his hands balled into fists at his sides. His words could never have been as unsettling as his silence. I positioned myself close to the door, my arms encircling me as though they would protect me from the impending storm between us."How long?" Finally, his low, piercing voice broke the silence.I scowled. "How long what?"His dark eyes blazed with rage as he turned. "You've been a Harrington for how long? For what duration have you been deceiving me?”The charge was a slap in the face. I moved forward, defending myself with a raised voice. "I had no idea! Do you believe I desired this? Do you think I was interested in discovering that my whole existence was a lie?”He paced like a predator circling its prey and said, "Convenient," with a bitter tone. "You didn't consider bringing up the hints we've been finding? The pictures, the letters? Or did you wish that I woul
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It felt oppressive to be in the sterile, cold living room of my adoptive family's home. I sat rigidly on the velvet couch, feeling as though the walls, lined with sterile portraits and antique furniture, were closing in on me. Charles, my adoptive father, was standing across from me, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his piercing eyes staring right through me. Evelyn, my adoptive mother, was standing next to him, wearing her usual mask of fake worry."Freda," said Charles, calmly but with a hint of menace, "this is not a request. It is a duty to the family.My knuckles were white as I held onto the couch's edge. "I’m not doing it."Evelyn sighed, as if I were a whiny kid who wouldn't do her chores. "You don't realise how serious this situation is, darling. The Harringtons have the ability to either ensure or ruin our future. You have a special chance to guarantee our family's position among them."Your family," I snapped back. "Not mine."Evelyn flinched, but Ch
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