The Billionaire's Whispers Of Pleasure

Chapter 17

I dropped Luz by her apartment, and after we bid each other goodbye, I drive back to the old house. I have also notified Nail that I won't be able to go to my shift later. He only responds by telling me to make sure I work tomorrow. He also informed me about Rocco not being able to see me for a couple of days, which is fine for me. When I arrive at the house, I spend the time cleaning my parents' room, as I will be sleeping in here tonight.

It doesn't take me long to clean the room. Exhaling, I look at the two garbage bags before I take them with me outside and place them on the side road. I will leave my own room in that state for a while. It needs a renovation as the room was ransacked: everything was broken as if whoever comes in and out of here is desperate to find what they're looking for. If I'm lucky, I might be able to catch them or at least see their faces. It will be daunting for me to catch them if they're armed. I think it is safer if I stay hidden while I watch.

I climb up to the attic and get two more guns from the box and hide them in my parents' room. I come back up and scan the room with my eyes as I think of what to do with it. There are a lot of things in here that probably can't be used anymore. In a corner, I see another box. I head for it, crouch down, and I jolt up in utter surprise when a rat quickly comes out of it and escapes. Slowly, I look at the box, making sure there are no rats or anything whatsoever hidden inside, and when I no longer see any suspicious movement inside, I pull the box to the middle and start taking out what's inside. The box contains my Barbie doll and a lot more I don't remember having; however, I furrow my brows when I see two pages of paper underneath. A huge chunk of the paper has been gnawed by the rat.

Sitting my butt on the floor, I hold the paper in my hands, hoping I can still understand whatever is written on it. I stand up and head for the switch so that I can read it clearly. The light sparks overhead, and I think it might explode, but gladly it doesn't. The ink has worn off, so it's hard for me to read it, but it seems to be an agreement. I can also read my name, and there's something about me turning into a certain age: the age written has faded. The rest is no longer legible, plus the rat has nibbled a huge part of it. Though on the bottom, on the second page, I recognize my parentsʼ signatures and another one, which is only three initial letters: F.D.L.

So far, this is the clearest answer I have found. I still don't understand everything, though, but from what I've found so far, I think it is safe to say my parents had an agreement with someone. I fold the paper, and I take it with me when I climb down. Night has already settled, and I'm pretty nervous right now for some reason. I'm still clueless about what's going on, though I found something, but it's really not helpful or making me understand who I should protect myself from and why I have to protect myself from them. Were my parents involved in some kind of black market or an organization?

As the clock ticks into a deep night, my eyes are wide open and my hearing sensitive as I lie in bed. I placed a glass beside the front door, so if someone enters, it will fall down and clank. I locked the door, but I know they have a way to open it. We don't have a back door, so the front door will be their only entrance if they don't crash the windows.

Each second, silence gets louder and louder, and it's so dark. I intentionally left the lights off so that they won't think I am here. When the clock hits around one, I hear the glass clank as it falls down the floor. Slowly, I sit up from lying. My heart is in my throat as I listen to what's happening in the living room. I can feel my hands shaking. I was so bold earlier, and now I can't even have the courage to get out of the bed and see for myself it's more difficult than I had thought. I grip the gun in my hand before I exhale quietly as I lift my legs over the edge of the bed and walk tiptoeing to the door; however, I stop and quickly hide behind the door when I see a shadow outside the room. I cover my mouth and nose, scared they might hear me breathing.

I hold my breath as the door creaks open, my hand tightening around the gun, but the door closes back. I let out a deep breath. Whoever that is, they might just want to check if there is someone inside. I hold the doorknob, slowly turning it so as to not create a sound, and when there's enough space, I slip out. I know my way around the house, so despite the darkness, I know where I'm going. Though the living room is not that dark as the moonlight shines through the windows. I hide behind the wall as I hear voices from two men.

“We have searched every corner of this house, but we haven't been successful,” I hear one of them say.

“Master will kill us if we go back with nothing this time,” the other man responds.

“What if they gave it to them before they were killed?”

“Or maybe it was buried along with them.”

“We were told it was given to the child, but we've seen the situation when they were killed. She was so young, and she didn't have anything with her when she was taken by those who adopted her.”

“It costs more than our lives, Zack.”

Their voices fade as they climb upstairs. They were talking about me, and my parents being killed. Wiping the tears off my face, I follow them upstairs, my steps slow and lightweight, but my heart is loud in my ears. When I reach the floor, I don't hear their voices anymore. Stepping to the door, my hands around the pistol, preparing to pull the trigger.

“Stop” Before I can take one more step to my room, someone commands behind me. Heaving up and down, I turn around, but darkness quickly engulfs me as a solid object hits my head.

When I wake up, I furrow my brows in utter confusion. How did I end up here? Was it just a dream? I'm in my bedroom in my apartment. When I try to push myself into a sitting position, I grimace as pain surges through my head. I touch the part of my head where it hurts, and that's when I remember something hit my head, but why am I here? Who brought me here? I slide my legs over the edge of the bed as my mind is clouded with more confusion.

I head for the bathroom and look at my head in the mirror where it hurts. I use my fingers so that I can see my scalp better through my hair. There's a small slice, and the roots of my hair are coated with dried blood. I leave the bathroom, and I see my phone sitting on the nightstand. What I thought happened is real, and it's not a dream. I pick up the phone from the nightstand and check the time; it's seven in the morning.

There's nothing unusual around the apartment, and there's no message. When I get out, my car is right there where I usually park it. I don't remember driving back to my apartment, or did I get amnesia from the hit? I remember everything except after I was hit. I recall their conversation about my parents being killed instead of dying in an accident—or so, at least, I assume they were talking about my parents. They also knew about me being adopted when I was young, and they talked about a thing that costs more than their lives.

I would have remembered if my parents gave me something before they died if it was that important, but I don't recall anything, so I'm certain I don't have whatever they're searching for. The more I think I'm one step closer to all the answers, the more questions surface.

I open the driver's seat, and I find my gun sitting in the compartment. Sliding inside, I close the door, reach for the gun, and when I see the dash cam hanging in front of me, I quickly take its memory out and insert it in my phone, my heart beating fast, and I'm hoping it captured everything. I go to the video files. There are videos captured between two and five A.M. before its battery died.

There's a lump in my throat as I click the video from one A.M. The video plays, but nothing was happening—no movement. However, around almost two A.M., light shone, illuminating the inside of the car. The light must have been from a new car arriving, and around two A.M., a man was captured carrying someone—me.

The man was wearing a cap, so I can't make out his face yet, and it's dark, but I find the figure familiar. Gently, he placed me in the backseat before he left again, and minutes later, he came back. He opened the door to the driver's seat and slipped inside, and my eyes widen when I see his face: it's Edward. He took the cap off his head before pressing his finger on his earpiece and talking to someone, “Master, I found her unconscious and lying on the floor.”