Chapter 4: The Vault of Memories
I had to lead them away from the truth. I scrambled down the back stairs, my heart pounding, and purposefully knocked over a heavy vase in the foyer. The sound shattered the silence. The man—the "father" impostor—was there in an instant, his face twisted into a terrifying, distorted grimace of rage.
"Ella! Where are you?"
I let out a sob, running toward the study—the room where my father’s real vault was located. I knew they would follow. I reached the study and fumbled with the keypad, pretending to be blind, using the muscle memory of the combination I had watched my father use a thousand times.
Click.
May you like
The safe swung open. They rushed in, their faces lighting up with greedy triumph. I turned, my eyes wide, and for the first time, I let the mask drop. I didn't look at them like a blind girl. I looked at them with pure, searing hatred.
"You want the notes?" I spat, throwing a handful of papers into the air. They were blank. The real notes were hidden in the lining of my old childhood teddy bear. They froze, confused for a split second. That second was all I needed. I kicked the heavy desk, sending it sliding into the man’s legs, and bolted toward the French doors.
