The Heir's Game

CHAPTER 003

ISLA POV

All through the ride back to the mansion, I kept thinking of Luca's offer.

“Be my Spy, and I will give you everything you want,” he had offered.

Dangerous, it was, yet I kept thinking about it, considering it. I wish I could say I was doing this for just the money, but unfortunately, I wasn't.

As soon as we arrived back at the mansion, Patricia once again escorted me to my room. “Your bath has been set, Miss Veronne.

Wash up and get some rest.” And then she left, leaving me to my thoughts.

I pounced on the bed, relaxing my nerves from all the stress and anxiety I went through for the entire evening. I decided to unpack my luggage and turn on my phone. Hannah must be worried about me. My aunt Stacy, not so sure. She didn't care when my mother went missing. I am sure it would be the same in my case.

As soon as my phone restarted, messages began pouring in with a few missed calls, all from Hannah. I immediately dialed her number and she picked up on the first ring. “Isla, where are you? Why weren't you reachable? I saw your text and I got worried…”

“Calm down, Hannah, take a deep breath, I promise I will explain everything,” I said, and heard her release a long sigh.

The other line was quiet, giving me the go-ahead. “I left for an urgent job, but I am fine. We needed the money, especially you. So I couldn't refuse. It came at such short notice that's why I couldn't fully explain, but now I am, and I just want you to know that I am fine. There's no need for you to worry anymore, especially about your studies. I will send you some money to sort everything out.”

“Isla.” Hannah gently called over the phone. “Where exactly in Monaco are you?”

“I am fine Hannah, it's just a few authentications here and there. I promise I will be back before you know it. All I want you to do right now is focus. Can you do that for me?”

Silence, for a short while. “Is this about Mom's death?” She suddenly asked, hitting me in my weakest spot.

Hearing people say she was dead made my blood boil, but hearing it from Hannah, my little sister, it was like a knife being shoved into my heart.

“No.” I held back the words I had in mind to say. “I will send you some money as soon as I am done unpacking. Until then, take care of yourself, Hannah. I love you.”

“I love you too…” She didn't argue, a big relief for me. I hung up and tossed my phone aside, letting out the tears that burned the back of my eyes.

*I know you are not dead, Mom, but it gets harder by the day to keep that thought true. Hannah has given up on you, but I won't do the same. I will find you, even if it's the last thing I do.

I wiped my face clean and continued unpacking my things. Suddenly, my eyes caught the brown envelope resting in my luggage. I took it out and opened it.

There was a letter in it, “Trust no one, not even me.” I had gotten this letter the very day he asked me to see him.

FLASHBACK(A month ago)…

The night was cold as usual. I stepped out of the gallery in my wool shawl; there was a black G wagon waiting outside to receive me. I didn't understand, I only got a note that said, *We need to talk, it's about your mother.* And I came outside. My ride was already waiting.

This eerie discreteness bothered me, but at the same time, I was ready to walk on fire just to find my mother. I got into the jeep, and the ride began. It took less than thirty minutes for me to arrive at the most deserted street I had ever seen in London.

A large-looking man with a scar dangerously close to his eyes was there to lead me. He took me into a penthouse that looked like it had been abandoned for years. The gray interior decor added to my anxiety, but thoughts of my mother dimmed out most of my fear.

We finally halted by the terrace and a man was standing there, tall, lanky, and dressed in a slate-gray suit that looked expensive. He flashed me a charming smile, his blue eyes glistening under the night sky.

I had never seen him before in my life, but I couldn't say the same for my mother. He claims to know something about her, which means they may have been familiar with each other.

“Julian Ward, does that ring a bell?” he asked, and I shook my head. “I have never heard of you.”

My response made him laugh, but nothing about this was funny. “You will get to know me, Isla Verrone.” He said with a sly smirk.

“The pictures didn't do your beauty enough justice,” he complimented, casually lighting up a cigarette. “I see why your mother didn't want men like me in her gallery.”

I frowned, “I didn’t come for compliments.” I replied, my patience running thin. I came here for my mother, so I expected him to get straight to the point.

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “You came for the truth, straight to the point, just like your mother, Aurora Verrone.”

He pulled out a briefcase from nowhere, handing it to me. I opened it, expecting something dramatic, coordinates, keys, maybe a file.

What I found instead was a painting.

One I had never seen in person, but somehow recognized instantly, because of the brushwork and the style.

It was hers. My mother's painting.

I stared, cold blooming across my chest. “Where did you get this?”

Julien took a long drag of his cigarette. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. It does." I gritted.

He studied me, then flicked the ash into the wind. “The painting resurfaced five years ago, right before your mother disappeared. She sold it to me, but it was never delivered. It disappeared from a private vault in Paris, where it had been kept. A source of mine informed me that it was stolen by Luca Moreaux.”

My mouth was dry. “ Luca Moreaux? Heir to the HM empire?”

The HM empire, a multi-diversified business channel; they deal in literally everything, from hotels to tech companies, agriculture, galleries, oil, and gas. The list was long, they ruled not just France, but also London, America, and Italy. Their name was on everyone's lips.

Why would someone from such a prestigious family steal my mother's painting when they could easily buy our entire legacy? It just didn't sound right.

“You think Luca Moreaux knew my mother?”

“I know he did,” Julian replied. The world seemed to tilt under my feet.

With a racing heart, I asked, “Is she alive?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know. But Luca might. That painting, The Last Lullaby, she called it, never got to me; I had my associates retrieve it through other means.”

I looked at the painting, so many thoughts ran through my head, “He's trying to make a collection,” I whispered.

“Or just stealing the works of an unpopular artist to brand and claim.” Julian countered.

“You are the expert, Isla. This is why I need you to expose Luca's deeds, and also find your mother. The sooner he is brought down, the hope of finding your mother alive.”

I closed the briefcase slowly, willing my hands not to tremble. I gulped, unsure of the decision to make.

If Luca truly has something to do with my mother's disappearance, then I don't mind being a spy or getting my hands dirty to find her.

“I am in.”

“Good, for now, keep a low profile. I have something I am working on; soon, you will get a chance to begin your investigation.”

“I hope so.”

FLASHBACK ENDS…

I crumpled the letter and placed it back in my luggage. Thank God the servants didn't invade my privacy by helping me unpack. Fate works in mysterious ways. Finally, I am here, close to Luca, ready to expose his deeds and find my mother

.

Just like Julian said, *The sooner I expose Luca, the better chance of finding my mother.*

“I am coming for you, Mom,” I whispered into the night.