SUMMER FEVER

13 | NOW

SUMMER VAN DOREN

This morning, I have a meeting with Mr. Thompson, the estate's longtime manager. He has been my father's trusted confidant and now serve as my advisor, helping me navigate the intricacies of managing such a vast inheritance. I make my way to the study, the scent of polished wood and old books filling the air.

"Good morning, Miss Van Doren," Mr. Thompson greets me as I enter the room, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners. "I hope you slept well."

"Morning, Mr. Thompson," I reply, taking a seat opposite him. "What's on the agenda for today?"

He hands me a stack of documents, neatly organized. "There are a few matters we need to discuss. Firstly, there's the renovation project for the west wing. The contractors need your approval on the final designs."

I nod, scanning the blueprints. "These look good. Let's go ahead with it."

"Very well," he says, making a note. "Secondly, there's the matter of the annual charity gala tonight at the Armani Hotel. With your father's passing, many are curious about your plans for this year's event."

I sigh, feeling the weight of expectations settle on my shoulders. "We'll continue as planned. It's important to uphold the tradition."

"Excellent decision."

With our meeting concluded, I decide to take a walk around the estate. The fresh sea breeze and the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the cliffs always bring me a feeling of peace.

Lost in thought, I nearly miss the figure approaching me from the path leading to the cliffs. It's Adam Crawford, a man who stood close to my dad.

"Summer," he calls out, his voice carrying a hint of urgency. "I need to talk to you."

"Oh hi," I reply, my heart quickening. "What's wrong?"

He glances around, ensuring we are alone. "There's something you need to see. It's about your father's estate. I found something hidden in the old workshop."

My pulse quickens at the mention of a hidden discovery. "Show me."

We make our way to the workshop, a rustic building nestled among the trees at the edge of the estate. Inside, the air is filled with the scent of aged wood and forgotten memories. Adam leads me to a dusty corner where an old chest lays partially buried under a pile of tools and equipment.

He opens the chest carefully, revealing a collection of old letters, maps, and a small, intricately carved wooden box. I pick up one of the letters, the familiar handwriting of my father bringing a lump to my throat. As I read through the letter, a sense of unease settles over me. It seems like it was addressed to my mother, detailing a series of impenetrable transactions.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door, breaking the silence. I glance up to see Mr. Thompson entering the room, a concerned look on his face.

"Miss Van Doren, there's someone here to see you," he says, his voice tight with apprehension.

I frown, puzzled by the late-night visitor. "Who is it?"

"It's Miss Gillian," he replies, his voice barely a whisper. "She says it's urgent."

My heart skips a beat at the mention of her name. What can she want from me at this hour? And why is Mr. Thompson so unnerved by her presence?

"Show her in," I demand, trying to keep my voice steady despite the knot of fear that has formed in my stomach.

Gillian enters the room, her presence commanding as always. But there is something different about her today.

"Summer," she says, her voice grave. "We need to talk."