Chapter 43
Fiona
Pulling on my black sleeves, I make sure they cover my arms fully, not that it truly matters. It’s prich black outside, so even
if I weren’t covered
“You ready?” Isla asks, glancing at me from the driver’s seat. Like me, she’s dressed entirely in black because she said we needed to be like ninjas as we sneak into the office.
Of course, we’re not truly sneaking in. There’s a night guard who will definitely stop us, but I have my father’s ID that I’d temporarily stolen from his house. I can’t have any illegal allegations put against me, or it will make winning my cases much harder.
“Yeah, let’s do this,” I say, bumping my fist against hers. It’s now or never
Climbing out of the car, I lead the way to the front door. Through the windows, i can see the security guard lounging at his desk watching something on the computer monitor.
With as much confidence as I can muster. I push the front door open and walk inside. The guard looks up, surprised since no one is usually here this late unless they’re working.
“Hi” I call, waving casually. He looks me up and down then looks at Isla who stands just behind me. “T’m here to pick up some papers for my father. He left them and asked me to pick them up on my way home. I have his keycard right here.”
I hold the card up, making sure my father’s picture is showing. He’s pretty high up in the company, and realize my plan will work when the guard straightens up.
“Of course,” he says, quickly nodding. “The keycard will get you into the elevator and once you’re in, you can scan it-”
“Before pushing the button for the floor that I need. I remember,” I finish for him. He nods. I’ve had no visit my father before, except that time, I was given a visitor’s card. They work the same, from what I know.
“That’s right,” he says. “Just check in with me before you leave, and you’ll be good to go.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say as I turn and make my way to the elevators.
Once we’re inside, I scan the card and hit the fourth floor. The elevator jerks and begins to ascend, and breathe easier knowing there’s one less obstacle in the way.
“That was easier than I thought,” Isla mutters. I cringe and glare at her.
“Don’t say it out loud!” I grumble. When stuff like that is said out loud, something always goes wrong
Isla laughs and smacks my arm before waving off my words.
Soon, the elevator dings, and we step off. I motion for her to follow me, and we head down the hallway to the right, It’s been over a year since I came to my dad’s office, but he hasn’t changed location for the last five years, so with two rights and a scan of the keycard, we’re inside.
His office is the largest one in the room with big windows.
“There it is,” I say, pointing it out to Isla. Using the keys I swiped from my dad’s desk at his house, beth xing each key. One gold and two silver keys don’t open the door, making my stomach tighten with nerves. This was the only key ring in my father’s office, so I assumed it was for this office.
But with each key that doesn’t work, my anxiety grows. I flip to the last key on the ring and insert it into the door.
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Finally, the lock clicks and the door swings open.
“Yes!” Isla whisper shouts, pumping her fist in the air.
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Pushing into the office, I flip the light switch on the left of the door and observe the room. There is a large desk and some chairs in front of it. Shelves line one wall with books and various pieces of small art. On one wall, there’s a large portrait of our family we had taken at my father and stepmother’s wedding.
“Lovely,” Isla mutters with disgust as she sneers at the portrait. She’s never liked my stepmother, for good reason, but now she downright hates the woman. I don’t blame Isla, though. My stepmother is awful. Like the women in fairytales that are terrible to the princesses.
“Where should we start?” Isla asks while spinning in a slow circle.
“Jessica said there was a hidden safe, so maybe start with the art and the shelves? Isn’t that where secret safes are usually hidden?” I ask, glancing at her. I know this isn’t a movie, but it feels like a scene taken straight from one.
Isla hums and walks over to the shelf.
Again, my nerves kick in. What if Jessica hadn’t been telling the truth? Was it possible that she knew I was listening to her conversation and gave Angela false information?
“Fiona?”
I spin around to find Isla holding a statue of a man and woman dancing.
“Sorry, um, you keep looking there, I’ll look around the desk,” I tell her, jerking a thumb at the monstrous desk.
Setting to our tasks, I tackle the desk, searching underneath it for hidden compartments as well as looking through the drawers. The bottom right drawer is locked, so I try the keys again, and it opens with one of the silver keys.
I rifle through the papers inside, but don’t find the will.
“Nothing on the left shelf,” Isla announces before moving to the middle shelf.
“Nothing in the drawers or beneath the desk,” I tell her, standing back up. I stretch for a second, looking around. Then, I narrow my eyes on the family portrait which hangs slightly off center. “Isla, does that painting look crooked to you?”
She turns quickly, squinting at the portrait. Then she nods, saying, “There’s definitely something off about it.
“Help me take it down,” I tell her, moving to one side. She goes to the other, and together, we lift. The portrait is heavy, so we quickly lower it to the floor.
“Nice eye,” Isla says when the portrait removal reveals a safe. “What do you think the password is?”
“Maybe his birthday?” I punch the numbers in, but a harsh buzz and a red light tell me it’s wrong.
“Your birthday?” Isla asks.
I push the eight buttons to input my birthday, but again, it buzzes with a failure. I try a few more number combinations, each ending in the same negatory buzz.
“What about…” Isla trails off, glancing at the portrait. “Their wedding date?”
I try the new set of numbers, and this time, a green light flashes and two beeps sound. Victory! I pump my fist in the air and pull the smaller door open.
A stack of papers greets me, and I make quick work of sifting through them. When I’m almost at the bottom, I find a yellow envelope with my mother’s name on it.
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“I think I found it,” I tell Isla. She peers over my shoulder as I open the envelope and pull the papers out. On top there is a handwritten note, and I immediately recognize my mother’s handwriting.
Tears blur my vision when I read the first few lines of the note.
Fiona,
Never forget that I love you. You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me, and I need you to know I’m sorry I had to leave so soon. Nothing in life is guaranteed, so I hope you will live your life to the fullest by being happy and finding love.
There will be disappointments and sadness in your life, but don’t let the negative things stop you from living.
Have the strength to live life your way without apology or regret.
I wish I could be there to watch you grow to be the wonderful young woman I know you’ll become. Just know I’m always with you, watching over you from afar.
Love, Mom.
Rereading the note, I swipe at the tears falling from my eyes.
“She’s right, you know,” Isla says softly, squeezing my shoulder. I glance at her, and she smiles sadly. “You’re an amazing woman who deserves to live life the way you want to.”
“Thanks.” I sniffle and slide the papers back into the envelope.
“Let’s get this portrait back up and get these papers home so you can take them to the lawyer tomorrow,” Isla says.
Agreeing, I set the papers aside and help her lift the portrait back onto the wall. Things are finally looking up. With Mom’s will, the lawyer can start working on his arguments on who the inheritance truly belongs to.
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