She got a smile on her face and a knife in her hand
She don't look too sane when she acts like that
— Dancer in The Dark by Chase Atlantic
"Good morning, Shortcake."
I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart swelled at the sight of a shirtless Gray entering the kitchen. I doubt I would ever get used to seeing him without a shirt or naked. At least I was permitted to drool over him openly without worrying about what people would say. He was my boyfriend, after all.
He looked as tired as I felt with his disheveled hair and dark circles beneath his blazing green eyes. We had a long night with the others, only going to bed at around four in the morning when we were at the very edge of mental exhaustion.
"Coffee?" I offered with a smile.
He placed a hand down on the countertop and lowered his head to kiss me on the forehead. "Yes, please," he said in a husky whisper.
Ignoring the flutter of my stomach, I kissed him on the lips, then jumped out of the barstool and shuffled across the kitchen to where the coffee machine was. It took me half an hour this morning to figure out the complexity of such a device. These things were obviously not meant for me.
As I opened the jar of coffee beans, Gray wrapped his arms around me.
"How long did it take for you to figure this out?" he teasingly asked.
"Half an hour."
"Impressive." He tipped my chin up, then kissed my forehead and nose, allowing a giggle to escape from my lips. "I thought you would at least sleep in for a bit today," he said.
I whirled around to face him. "To be honest, I was a little restless."
"What were you thinking about?"
"Just...you know..." I mumbled, my fingers fiddling with the waistband of his sweatpants. "I feel bad that we brought Liam and Victoria into this."
"There's no turning back now, Shortcake."
"I know. I just feel bad that they stayed up all night to help us."
He snorted a laugh. "I'm pretty sure that's what they do every other day."
"Perv."
"Says the one fiddling with my waistband right now," his lips lifted into a satisfied smirk. "If you want me to take it off, you can just ask. I'm all yours, baby."
My hands jerked back, and I spun around, feeling the warmth of the blush as it crawled up my neck.
"Do you want me to take it off, though?" he continued to tease.
"Maybe when we're not busy figuring out who's trying to kill us."
"Fair enough." He kissed my cheek then backed away, the absence of his warmth making me pout. "I'll get the mug," he offered.
"Why does Isaac follow your orders?" I asked, watching as he picked up a mug from the kitchen island. "I mean, he's the son of Leonardo."
"Isaac was a sickly child growing up." He handed me the mug, and I offered him a thank you before setting it on the drip tray. "Because of that, his parents didn't allow him to get involved with family matters until he was seventeen. Even then, he begged for me to convince his parents. He wanted to show them he was worthy of something greater. And since I was able to make it happen, he feels that he's indebted to me."
"And what about you?"
"I started to get involved with what was happening after I turned 14." He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms against his chest. My eyes traveled down his biceps and sculpted chest.
It had to be a crime to look that hot.
He cleared his throat lightly, and I glanced away. "My father was afraid that I would end up bottling all my hatred and pain, but he didn't know that I had already created a solution to that problem."
The familiar ringtone of Gray's phone filled the soft silence in the kitchen, and he excused himself to answer it. I nodded then went back to focus on making the cup of coffee, but my fingers didn't want to move. A heavy feeling weighed on me, and I found myself struggling to breathe.
The last time I felt this way was when my mother died.
I stared at the kitchen entrance in silence, counting the seconds as it passed, waiting for him to come back. Something didn't feel right.
As Gray dragged himself back with his head down, footsteps hurried down the staircase. I stared at Gray, my stomach twisting and turning into a knot, then I glanced over his shoulder at Isaac, whose eyes were wide in shock and disbelief combined.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
Gray raised his head and looked at me dead in the eye.
"Aila's dead."
● ● ●
America Aila Preston committed suicide in her quarters
in the early hours of the morning.
I didn't bother reading the rest of the text message sent from Doctor Martin to Isaac. Reading it brought me back to what happened a year ago. Though I had already accepted life as it is, hearing the news of somebody's death was still a harrowing experience, especially since my first encounter with it was of someone I imagined to be with for a very long time.
The flight to New Jersey was short, but it felt like an eternity. Gray insisted that I stay back with the others, but I refused. I knew this news of Aila's death hurt him more than he let on. We packed a carry-on suitcase to bring and took his family's private jet. He didn't speak to me the whole trip, but he held my hand with an iron grip.
Dressed in all black, Doctor Martin greeted us at the entrance of Mapleleaf Asylum.
"My condolences," she said.
Gray simply nodded in response and entered the building, leaving me alone with Doctor Martin. I faced her with an apologetic smile, but it vanished the moment I saw the look on her face. Amidst the pain that her eyes conveyed, there was anger.
"There's something I need to show you," she said.
She turned on her heel and walked ahead of me. As I followed behind her, I couldn't help but notice the added gloominess surrounding the place.
To the left side of the building was a narrow hallway leading to Doctor Martin's office. As soon as I shut the door behind me, she closed the shutters on her windows and peeked through before turning to look at me with troubled eyes.
"Please, have a seat," she motioned to the couches at the center of the room, and I obeyed.
"Is something wrong?" I questioned.
She walked over to her desk and picked up a red envelope. I gripped the skirt of my dress and inhaled deeply to control my flaring temper.
"We found this under her pillow," Doctor Martin said, handing it to me. "She hasn't gotten one since we tightened the security in the facility. But somehow, this one slipped through."
I received the envelope, then opened it. Inside was a white card with the words: Miss me? Clenching my jaw, I brought the card up to my nose and sniffed it. The scent of roses hit my nerves, and I shuddered lightly. I returned the card inside the envelope then inserted it into my purse.
"How was she able to get this?" I queried.
"The detective and I checked all the CCTV's and saw that it was one of our nurses. He fled right after giving her the red envelope, and we were able to find him. But..." Doctor Martin stopped halfway and frowned.
My brows furrowed. "But?"
"We found him dead. And the police department ruled it out as an accident."
Accident, I scorned.
Forcing out a smile, I bowed my head slightly in respect. "My deepest condolences, Doctor Martin. I'll inform Gray about this later."
She nodded meekly. "Thank you."
We stood to our feet simultaneously and headed out of the office.
The service was held at a separate building to the east of the main one. It was much smaller, and the pathway leading felt like a stroll in paradise with flower bushes on each side.
I dared not to look up when they moved the body into the cremation chamber. It reminded me of my mother, and I didn't want to think about that right now. The firm press of a hand at the small of my back made me sigh, and I glanced up at Gray, whose face remained composed. Even when Mr. Preston started bawling his eyes out in front of Gray, no emotion flickered through his face. I even overheard a few nurses calling him indifferent.
"Can you wait for me outside?" he muttered.
"Will you be okay?"
He smiled half a smile. "I'll be with Mr. Preston."
"Call me when you want to leave, okay?"
He leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead.
I lingered for a moment, staring at his face. I didn't want to leave his side, but he needed to talk to Mr. Preston. Gray walked away first, heading to the other side of the room where Mr. Preston was seated, staring blankly ahead at the cremation chamber.
Sighing, I walked out of the room.
Aila was another puzzle piece in the jigsaw of Gray's past, another fragment of his history — a fragment that made him who he is today. Her untimely death bothered me since it only confirmed my fears that we were indeed running out of time.
● ● ●
Gray suggested that we stayed the night in New Jersey. He booked us a Presidential Suite in Zenith Hotels and Resorts, owned and managed by the Simmons family. It was opulent in every detail, from the marble walls to the gold finishings.
We crawled into bed immediately, sleeping through the afternoon and waking up at around six in the evening. After enjoying a quiet dinner at the restaurant downstairs, Gray left to meet with Mr. John, who flew down here as soon as he heard the news.
Gray and I talked about Aila's death, but it was brief. He told me that he felt empty for the first few hours until he spoke with Mr. Preston. Gray envisioned a furious, grieving Mr. Preston, throwing punches to his face until it knocked him out. But instead, he showed Gray gratitude for watching over Aila and ensuring she was alright in that Asylum.
I shuddered at the image it relayed in my head. I wouldn't have been able to stop myself if that was what happened. The protectiveness I felt towards Gray was greater than it should be. How could it not be when he almost died because of me? And he was willing to do it all over again for me.
I wasn't going to let that happen.
It would take a while, or maybe never, for me to get used to the idea that Gray's life threaded in a loop of danger. That the possibility of him getting critically injured and killed was at a higher percent than I could ever imagine.
I was alone in the hotel room, sitting on the couch with my head thrown back. I switched on the TV several minutes ago and lowered the volume until it was nothing but background noise.
The silence was my greatest enemy when I was alone.
"A date..." I whispered to myself. "The clue is a date."
I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, recalling what Gray unraveled last night. The password was a date. I raised the tiny paper to my eye level once again and read what Gray translated.
A time of regrets is the day of fondness when love first bloomed.
Exhaling in frustration, I dropped my hand and went back to staring at the warm white light bulb. A time of regrets is the day of fondness, I repeated desperately in my head, as half my brain listened to the quiet dialogues of the movie playing on the TV.
"I'm saying you've already done of things to regret. You just don't know what they are. It's when you discover them when you see the folly in something you've done, and you wish that you had it a do-over, but you know you can't because it's too. So you pick that thing up and carry it with you to remind you that life goes on, the world will spin without you, you really don't matter in the end. Then you will gain character because honesty will reach out from inside and itself across your face."
I wrinkled my nose as I thought of the conversation I had with Richard a few weeks back and the story he shared when he first met my mother.
"July 17, 1995," I breathed out as the realization hit me. That was the day my mother met Richard at a beach party and the day she regretted most.
I scrambled across the suite to the bedroom to grab the thumb drive and my laptop, then I rushed back to the living room and settled it both on the coffee table before sitting down on the floor. I switched on my laptop and plugged in the thumb drive, hurriedly clicking on the file and typing in the date.
I stopped halfway when a thought passed through my head.
It could be in any sequence.
Groaning, I buried my head into my hands and racked my brain for something — another hint that I might've missed. But there wasn't anything in Aila's case file and the letters.
This couldn't be a dead end. Surely, there was something.
If my mother wanted me to finish this, then the password should be in a way that I could decipher. Gray and Isaac said their fathers believed I was the only one who could figure it out. If they didn't trust me enough, they wouldn't have given me the case file in the first place. I pressed my lips together. If Gray and Isaac stuck by the rules, I would've faced Gerald as nothing but a clueless daughter, and I doubted the conversation would've gone the way it did.
Think, Summer. Think.
"2-2-2," I whispered in a blur. "Date first, month next, year last."
Remember to always write the two last digits for the year.
Lifting my chin in confidence, I erased the initial password I keyed in, then followed the sequence my mother taught me. I stared at the screen for a long moment, deliberating if I should do it or not. The risk of getting this wrong was too great. This was our last chance; if I got this wrong, the thumb drive would format itself, and everything we did would go to waste. Everyone's efforts would be for nothing.
Was I willing to throw all of that away?
But then, Richard wouldn't have mentioned the date specifically if it meant nothing. If that was it, then he must know about the thumb drive. My mother would've mentioned it, one way or another, and if I didn't take this leap, then we wouldn't know until it was too late.
Decided, I pressed the enter key and immediately shut my eyes.
5, 4, 3, 2...
"One," I exhaled. Slowly, I opened my eyes, and at the sight of what was on the screen, I clasped a hand over my mouth in shock.
It fucking worked.
However, my rejoice died as fast as it came when I noticed that there was only one folder named Marchioness. I moved my cursor to open the file, and my forehead creased even more in confusion. I clicked the only document inside and read through it. Listed were the murders the Marchioness had committed in the last six years, including all the crime details. It was so heinous, yet so justifiable. Most of the people she killed were guilty of sexually abusing children, women, and men, and many of them were not punished accordingly by the law.
She took justice into her own hands.
I reached the final page, and upon seeing the picture and name, a new terror filled my chest.
Marina Morales.
There was a phone number at the bottom of the page, then without hesitation, I grabbed my phone from the couch and dialed it. I tapped my index finger anxiously on the table, listening to the ringing until a woman's voice chimed.
"Who's this?" she asked, her voice light and cheery.
"Summer," I answered tersely.
There was a brief pause at the other end of the line, and then she laughed, the menacing sound causing a cold chill to wash over me. "Since you're calling me, you must already know who I am. It took you long enough, though."
"You killed Aila." My voice was hard. "Why did you kill her?"
She clicked her tongue, and I could almost imagine her shaking her head with a smirk across her face. "I didn't kill her, Summer. All I did was send a card. It was her choice to end her life. Well, it was about time anyway. She was becoming a burden."
"Then why did you kill the nurse? And the woman from Flawless Copies?"
"A man accused of kidnapping and raping a child, and a woman, who sold her young daughter to a sex den for money and pushed her mother down the stairs to claim her insurance. They deserved to die, Summer. They deserve to rot in hell."
I pressed my lips together to stop a breath from leaving my lips, and my free hand clenched into a fist.
"And Nick?"
"Do I have to repeat myself?"
"No."
"Listen carefully," she said. "You finding out my identity does not change my plans. In fact, you're giving me a better chance of achieving what I need."
"What do you want from me?"
This was getting exhausting; it had to end soon. I already had an idea of how this dreading chase would end. It was either Gray's life or mine, and I wasn't going to let this woman take him away. Gray already mentioned how the Marchioness was most likely to come after me. It had to be me instead of him.
"Tell me, would you die for Gray?"
"Yes," I answered without delay.
"Then I want you to enjoy your night," she chuckled deeply. "And tomorrow, when you arrive back at Brickfields, wait for my next instructions. Do you understand?"
It had to be me. "Yes."
"And make sure you aren't suspicious," she added, her voice light and friendly. "If you dare inform Gray about this conversation, I'll make sure you end up like Aila before she decided to kill herself. And I'll make sure Gray witnesses everything."
My chest tightened, and I swallowed hard.
"I won't tell him."
"I'll see you very soon, Summer."