The Distrust Fund

Devour

Vivid orange sunlight filled the room where Winston had laid his head after such an exhausting night. "Can't believe I was able to sleep at all," Winston said as he stretched out of his lavishly large bed. The sheets were made of the softest satin that the young man had ever felt, and the pillows felt like clouds lifting him to heaven. This, however, contrasted with the living hell that he and his friend had been placed in.

“Winston?” Rita's voice emerged from the other side of his bedroom door.

"Rita?" Winston rushed to the door, pulling it open to see his friend with her shoulder patched up from the night before. He embraced her with a large hug before bursting into tears. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I never should have gotten this stupid inheritance."

"Winston, you can't blame yourself," Rita assured him as she gently placed her firsthand his head while he sank to the ground. His knees crashed against the marble floor of the extravagant mansion. "At least your dad left you something when he died. Mine did not leave me anything. Not even who my real mom was." Her words began to uplift Winston's spirits as he realized that he had woken up in a different attire.

"Where did these come from?" Winston stood up, noticing that his tattered blue shirt and black jeans were replaced with blue silk pajamas.

"You didn’t put those on? They told me you went on a shopping spree."

"Yeah, but I didn’t buy anything. I never even changed clothes before I fell asleep."

As they discussed this strange change in clothing, a bell rang throughout the walls of the mansion.

“Master Winston, Lady Rita,” a slim French man in a butler uniform approached the two captives. Accompanying him was an overweight Indian man in a chef's uniform. "Bonjour. I am Philippe, the head butler of this estate, and this is Chef Leon."

“Your chaperone, Stello, informed us that you both had quite the night yesterday, so we took the liberty of preparing you a wonderful feast to start off this beautiful morning," Chef Leon said. "Please, follow us to the master kitchen.”

Terrified of what might befall them if they declined the offer, Winston and Rita nodded cautiously to each other and agreed to follow Philippe and Chef Leon. They soon entered a massive kitchen decorated with fine art resembling that of a palace for royalty. The grand table before them was adorned with luxurious tablecloths, and the chairs were finely polished mahogany wood with luscious pillows on the seats.

“Please allow me,” Philippe said to Rita as he pulled her chair out. Rita nervously thanked the strange butler as she took her seat while Winston sat across from her.

“Before either of you has that ridiculous notion, I would like to assure both of you that the food here is made with the finest ingredients in the world. None of it is laced with any poisonous elements,” Leon said, giving a settling warning to the two captives.

“Indeed, it is the benefactor’s desire for you to be fully nourished during your test for the next five days,” Philippe explained, bringing two dishes to Winston and Rita. The meals consisted of poached eggs, white toast, freshly baked trout infused with herbs and spices, and mixed fruit on the side. “Bon appétit.”

Philippe and Chef Leon both left the room. Rita texted Winston:

“Are we seriously going to eat this crap?”

“If they wanted to kill us again, our watches would be glowing green. Besides, I fear what will happen if we do not play along,” Winston replied. The young woman reluctantly agreed as they both began to eat the breakfast crafted for them.

"I'm afraid, Winston," Rita said as they continued eating. "I’ve never been away from my grandma for this long without reaching out to her."

"We'll get through this, Rita. When we escape, we will take your grandma on that cruise you have always talked about," Winston said, trying to lighten the mood.

Rita smiled. "She'd love that. Just hope I don't get seasick like I did in freshman year."

They both laughed, momentarily forgetting their dire situation. “Oops, I dropped my fork,” Winston said as he reached down to pick it up. But before he could reach it, their watches glowed green. “Rita, run!”

The doors that had previously kept Winston and Rita locked in the kitchen were chopped down by seven masked, muscular men with axes. The men charged at them, and Winston and Rita bolted from the room, racing through the mansion.

Winston stumbled into a room filled with his father’s hunting guns. “Who the hell was my dad?” he muttered as he pulled out a shotgun just as he heard Rita scream from the other room.

“Get away from me!” Rita yelled, fighting off an attacker.

Winston ran towards her voice, his heart pounding. He saw a man about to strike Rita and, without thinking, he fired the shotgun. The man fell, and Winston dropped the gun, nervously shivering. “I did not mean to. I have never killed anyone before. I…”

Rita ran to his side, picking up the shotgun. “It is okay, Winston. You saved my life.”

Just then, the watches turned red. Winston and Rita, out of breath and out of bullets, stood facing the remaining mercenaries. But instead of attacking, the mercenaries lowered their weapons and walked away, leaving the two friends to process everything that had just happened.

Winston looked at Rita, her face a mix of relief and exhaustion. "We need to find out more about my father. There has to be something here that can help us."

Rita nodded. "But first, we need to regroup and figure out our next move."

They made their way back to Winston’s room, where they barricaded the door and sat down to catch their breath. The adrenaline from the chase and the fight was wearing off, leaving them both feeling drained.

"We need to be prepared for whatever comes next," Winston said, his voice steady despite the fear he felt. "We can't let them catch us off guard again."

Rita agreed. "We have to stick together and stay alert. We will get through this, Winston. We have to."

As they sat there, trying to gather their strength, the reality of their situation sank in. They were in a deadly game with no obvious way out, and the clock was ticking. But Winston was determined to survive, to uncover the truth about his father's enemies, and to protect the people he cared about.

The fight was not over yet.