Chapter 3
There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
It lasted so long that I thought the call had dropped.
"Ms. Zamora," John said, his voice shifting to one of profound respect, mixed with excitement, "did you receive Mrs. Hamilton's letter?"
"Yes," I replied curtly.
"That's wonderful," John exclaimed, his tone brimming with relief. "Catherine went missing. No, she passed away a week ago. I've been trying to reach you, and I was almost losing my mind."
His words echoed the contents of the letter, causing my heart to sink once more.
"Ms. Zamora, where are you right now? Are you safe?" he asked.
"I'm back home. For now, I'm safe," I replied.
"Don't let your guard down for a second," he said, his tone becoming serious immediately. "Mr. Hamilton's influence is far greater than you imagine.
"He can't find you at this moment, so he'll definitely send people to look into your circle back home. It won't be long before your whereabouts are discovered."
My heart tightened. "What should I do?"
"Leave right now and head to Boslanville. The security system at your place in Finslyn Borough is top-notch. I installed it myself. That's the only place where you can breathe easy," he said.
"Okay, I'll go tomorrow," I replied.
"No, you need to leave immediately, right now," John urged. "Mr. Hamilton's men could already be en route. Ms. Zamora, trust my professional judgment. Every extra minute you stay here increases the risk."
His words sent a chill down my spine.
I glanced out the window. The sky was darkening.
The nosy neighbors had retreated home to prepare dinner.
This truly was the best chance for me to leave.
"Got it," I said.
"I'll book you a first-class ticket from the nearest city to Boslanville immediately and arrange a private car to pick you up at the town entrance. I'll text you the car's model and license plate shortly. Take nothing but that suitcase with you," John instructed.
"Okay," I replied.
"Ms. Zamora, remember, from this point onward, you're no longer an ordinary person. Every step could be monitored. Avoid speaking to anyone, and don't trust anyone who approaches you until you meet me," John reminded.
After I ended the call, my heart raced wildly.
An invisible battle had already begun.
I had no time for tears or second thoughts.
I tucked the nineteen property deeds and the letter close to my body and shoved a few worn-out clothes from the old house into my suitcase.
Less than half an hour later, my phone buzzed with a text telling me that a Black Audi A6, with license plate details, would arrive at the town entrance in five minutes.
I took one last look at the run-down house, feeling nothing but indifference.
Then, I grabbed my suitcase and slipped out the door silently.
*****
The darkness served as the perfect cover.
I hurried along the shadowy dirt path, heading toward the town entrance.
When I neared the massive oak tree, a pair of blinding headlights suddenly flashed into view, growing brighter as they barreled toward me.
A van came to a shaky stop right in front of me.
The door swung open with a loud bang.
My cousin, Charles Zamora, jumped out along with a group of rowdy-looking guys, blocking my way.
"Norah, where are you off to with that suitcase so late at night?" Charles asked.
He swaggered over, slouching with booze on his breath.
Remy also got out of the van with her hands on her hips, looking hostile.
"Running away, are you?" Remy barked, jabbing her finger at my nose. "I knew something was off about you. You struck it rich in Dislinton, and now you think you can sneak off and live the good life all by yourself? Forget it."
My heart jolted.
Why were they here? Was this a coincidence, or was it planned?
"Charles, Remy, what do you want?" I asked, my voice icy as I held their gaze.
"What do we want?" Charles grinned, revealing his yellow teeth. "Dear cousin, you get rich overseas and don't want to stay home? As your family, we're gonna demand answers."
"I didn't get rich. I got kicked out and sent back," I insisted, sticking to my persona.
"Bullshit," Remy spat. "Someone called just now and said you shacked up with some old man in Dislinton, and when he croaked, he left you a pile of cash. Do you think I'm a fool?"
Someone had called them. William's people? They acted so fast.
They were testing me.
Warning bells clamored in my mind.
I had to keep up the act. The more convincing, the better.
I immediately put on a panicked look and kept backing away.
"No, you're making it up. I don't know anything about any money. I've got nothing!" I protested.
My "cowardice" and "panic" seemed to entertain them.
Remy grew bolder. "Whether you've got it or not, a quick search will tell us everything."
She exchanged a knowing glance with Charles.
Charles caught on instantly and lunged for my suitcase. "Open it up. Let's see what's inside."
I clung to the suitcase tightly, screaming and struggling with all my might. "No! This is mine. You can't take it from me."
My resistance only fueled Charles's anger.
He shoved me to the ground, and the suitcase slipped from my grip.
One of the thugs stepped forward, ripped off the straps, and flipped the suitcase over.
A few ragged, even patched clothes tumbled out from it.
There was nothing else inside the suitcase.
Charles and Remy were both stunned.
"What? Nothing at all?" Remy couldn't accept it. She rushed over to the suitcase and overturned it, rummaging through every corner.
Not even a dime was found.
"Where's the money?" Charles growled harshly, grabbing my collar. "Where did you hide it?"
I felt like I was suffocating, shaking my head desperately as tears streamed down at the "perfect moment."
"I swear, I don't have any money. I was thrown out with nothing. All I've got is 60 dollars," I sobbed.
Still in tears, I took out the only two 60-dollar bills from my pocket and handed them over, my hands trembling.
"Charles, please, this is all I have left for travel. Let me keep a bit. I'm begging you," I pleaded.
My sobs were utterly miserable, and I looked like a complete wreck.
Charles glanced at the 60 dollars in my hand and then at the heap of tattered clothes on the ground. For the first time, doubt flickered across his face.
Remy snapped, "Damn, was that tip fake? She really is dirt poor."
Just then, another set of bright headlights pierced the night from afar.
A black Audi A6 came to a silent stop nearby.
The license plate matched exactly with the one in the text message.
A driver in a suit emerged, casting a glance our way, but he kept his distance.
John had sent him.
He noticed the predicament I was in.
Charles and his crew were stunned by the sight of the luxury car.
"Tough luck for you," Charles muttered, not satisfied.
He snatched the 60 dollars from my hand, cursing and grumbling as he and his crew clambered back into the van.
The van kicked up a cloud of dust and disappeared into the night.
I lay sprawled on the freezing ground, surrounded by a mess of shabby clothes, my face still tear-stained.
But inside, I felt cold as stone.
That earlier call must have been from William's people.
They had used my most money-hungry relatives to put me to the test.
If I had shown a hint of calm or grit that didn't match the "washed-up maid" image, or if there had been anything valuable in that suitcase, I could have ended up dead right there.
The black Audi A6 glided towards me, silent as a shadow.
The driver stepped out, silently collected the ragged clothes from the ground, shoved them back into the suitcase, then opened the car door and signaled for me to get in.
I slid into the car, and it pulled away smoothly, merging onto the highway.
I turned around, watching the town diminish in the distance.
I grabbed my phone and texted John. [The first round of probing is over. I'm safe.]
A moment later, he replied: [Nice job, Ms. Zamora. Welcome to your new world.]
I stared out the window at the darkness flashing by, my fists clenched tightly.
William, Victor, game on.
I would definitely surprise them in this game.
Here I came.