The news headline was shocking. Jeremy wondered if it was all made up or a lie. "How did you find this?" He asked. "I think Bradford had a way of stopping the major news sites from publishing it, maybe an insider," Christy replied. "Bradford has an insider in California? Didn't he just arrive here?" Sinclair asked, surprised. "That's what he made us believe," Christy replied and that was when Jeremy sneered. He was reminded that she had been the investigator in the first place. "Made you believe, you mean?" Jeremy asked her, his eyes narrowed to slits, "You were the one who was hired to investigate Bradford what did you do? You fucking made us believe you had him figured out! You said he was just a military guy with some PTSD and now he's the one with the connection to stop media houses from getting a juicy story out there? Really, who is this guy?" Christy sighed, "Can we sit down and talk?" She asked and Sinclair cut right in, "No, we can't, you will say whatever you have to sa
The Kingston mansion looked the same as it had for all the times that he'd visited. But Jeremy could almost smell the excitement in the air as he stepped into the living room. Even the servants who were a little weary didn't even ask them who they came to see, they simply asked him in and gave him a seat and two glasses of the best champagne. "Is it just me or you can smell something different around here?" Jeremy asked as he looked around the room. "Yeah, the staff aren't as uppity as they usually are," Sinclair noted. Jeremy laughed, so he was right, they did look a little easy that day. Shortly after, another maid came and asked them to go to the dining hall and have a proper lunch. "I'm not ready to have the last supper," Sinclair replied meaningfully and the maid frowned and walked off. "What's with the niceties?" Jeremy asked just as Hilda came down from the stairs and walked into the room. "Can't you be a gentleman and enjoy a little luxury?" She asked as she took a seat
Gasping for air, Jeremy sat up on the bed, pushing the heavy duvet off his chest, he already felt strangled as it was. He turned on the bedside lamp and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. It was a few minutes past 3:00 a.m. and he had barely slept for two hours. Jeremy sighed loudly and swung his feet off the bed, heading to the bathroom, with all the sweat pouring from his skin he needed a shower. Jeremy had just woken from a peculiar dream or maybe it was a nightmare, he couldn't tell. In the dream he saw his father, right beside him on his favorite swing when he was a child, they were talking about everything when suddenly he turned to him and said the scariest thing, "You are going to be but a ghost soon."It sounded so real, almost like the old man was wishing him dead. Jeremy had realized right then that he was not a boy on the swing but a grown-up man and his father was the ghost coming to haunt him, he however vanished before he could say anything. Jeremy waved off the
Hanson reached out to Jeremy the following day with the most scary information. He had found his strange withdrawal from the lord's account three years ago, and the withdrawal was meant using a one-time token. A whooping amount of $300 million had been taken from the account but since then nothing else had been removed. First of all Jeremy had no idea that the lord still had a dormant account. He would have thought that Hilda at least his own son Gilbert would be his next kin and take over all his wealth since he was gone - or was he? Sadly, no member of the Kingston family had access to lord Kingston's personal finances. So everything Hilda was spending on the case was strictly from her own pocket, no wonder she invested in the charity events like her life depended on it - in a way it did.Jeremy arrived home early at that day, there was little work to do at the office and Bob left him with a few papers to sign but that was about it. He had to quickly change up and follow the lead
On the drive to the industrial layout which Hanson had sent him the location to, Jeremy reflected on his relationship with Sinclair. For some odd reason, he felt really bad reflecting on how much he had become dependent on the lawyer. During his first few months getting introduced into the Kingston case, the only person he walked closely with was Hanson whom he had known a long time ago. But somehow, Sinclair had gotten into the picture and now he couldn't even deny that the man was a strong bark behind him throughout the race. He also felt bad for trying to sideline him, although this time not because he mistrusted him but because yet again he was trying to make sure no one got trapped in the dynamite that was his life. Jeremy sighed lightly, his hands tightly wrapped around the steering wheel as he turned into the busy street. Hanson had informed him of a certain account officer who was closer to lord Kingston than the rest. He figured that if anybody knew much about the whereabo
Benedict looked shocked himself. Jeremy was almost certain there was no way he could school or dramatize the shock plastered on his face at that time. "His account? Are you sure about this?" He asked and Jeremy nodded. "There was a withdrawal made some time, three years ago, it was done using the lord's token," he replied. Benedict excused himself and went into his room for a minute. Jeremy wondered what he wanted to check out but it must have been urgent because she left abruptly. He didn't exactly feel safe in the big house with the mean-looking man. But he had sent his location to Hanson and so he was confident. A few minutes later, he returned with a laptop and another device he could not name. Benedict laid it on the table and began to explain what he was looking at. "First of all, who the fuck are you? Why are you asking about the lord's account?" The man asked as if suddenly realizing that he didn't know Jeremy and what his motive was. "I'm a partner of the Kingston empir
Hilda stood at the edge of the balcony. Looking down at the distance longingly. She had never been a fan of giving up or believing that all was over, but as she looked at the field below, She could sympathize with all suicide victims. For a minute, despite her strength and resilience, Hilda almost contemplated jumping down from the balcony and ending it. It would be the end of all her worries and sleepless nights, she would finally rest peacefully knowing that nobody claimed the inheritance and she had to watch them take over all she and her husband had worked for. But in a twisted way, Hilda also knew that would be a failure. It would mean that she did not get to the inheritance anyway, dead or alive. With a heavy sigh, she swirled the wine in her glass slowly and pulled her coat closer, blowing out the cold air. It was mid-morning and the sun was just barely rising, coloring the horizon beautifully with multiple shades, Hilda could recall when she was younger. All she ever wanted
The little box was shaking in Hilda's hand as the memories assailed her. Those same blue eyes had pierced into hers in the parking lot and threatened to destroy her marriage if she dared confront her again. Hilda tossed the box to the ground, silently cursing Gilbert for even handing her that invitation. The last thing she needed in her life was the drama of meeting her husband's ex-mistress. She had too much going on in her frail little head to add another ton of drama. "That's not how to treat a gift, Hilda, I recalled the last time we met you wanted the ruby, I have decided to give it to you," The woman said. Cynthia, Cynthia had been her name. Hilda could recall meeting her a few times at the boutique but both women had passed themselves like they didn't know each other. Now, she was back and looking for Hilda. "How did you know where I stay?" Hilda asked as she recalled that the invitation had been hand-delivered to her doorstep. The woman left and retorted teasingly, "Don't y