Behind The Contract

CHAPTER THREE

The kettle whistled on the gas, its sharp cry filled the quiet kitchen. I turned it off and poured the hot water into a cup watching the steam rise slowly, my hands trembled a little. I hadn't slept much the night before.

My uncle's words still echoed in my head. “You were adopted, Kelly. Your parents took you in when you were a baby.” I wrapped both hands around the cup but I did not drink. If what he said was true, then there were questions my parents had never answered but now they're gone.

I dropped the cup and picked up my bag, then headed to Mr. Matthew, our lawyer’s office. If anyone knew the truth about my parents’ decisions it would be him.

The tall building looks older than I could remember. The golden letters that once spelled the firm’s name had faded slightly under the sun. I took a slow breath and pushed the door open.

The reception area was quiet. A woman behind the desk looked up with a polite smile. “Good morning, how can I help you ma?”

“I'm here to see Mr. Matthew,” I replied, stepping towards her. “He's my family’s lawyer.”

The woman's smile faded a little. “Oh! I'm sorry, Mr. Matthew is no longer with the firm.”

“What do you mean?”

“He resigned about three weeks ago,” she responded, adjusting her glasses. “He relocated with his family. We were told it was urgent.”

“Resigned,” I repeated slowly. “Did he leave any contact information?” I asked.

“No, ma'am,” the woman said, giving me a sympathetic look.

“That's impossible,” I murmured, leaning on the counter, something inside me sank. “Thank you,” I whispered, turning to walk out before the receptionist could say anything else.

I stood outside the busy street staring at nothing, I took a step forward with my mind spun with questions. Barely a few weeks after my parents death, everything in my life had been falling apart one piece at a time.

My stomach twisted painfully, only then did I realize I hadn't eaten all day. I noticed a small restaurant at the corner and stepped inside.

I slid into a seat by the window. A waiter walked up to me with a glass of water and a menu but I barely looked at it. I took a sip of cold water then sighed, rubbing my forehead.

The waiter arrived with my food, setting the plate down before leaving again. I picked up my fork but barely touched the food.

A faint memory surfaced in my mind. My father's voice. I was walking past his office a night before they travelled when I overheard him speaking on the phone. His voice was sharp and angry.

“The Smith Group executives were never loyal. If they think I’ll continue this partnership, they’re wrong. They’ll face the consequences of their actions.”

My heart skipped, I brought out the card Lucien gave me at the funeral. I need to find out my late father's relationship with them, I need answers.

By the time I reached the house gate, I noticed something off.

Two SUVs were parked outside. My uncle, Mr. Lucas and his wife stood by the entrance with several large men dressed in black suits.

“Uncle?” I said, walking towards them slowly and cautiously.

He turned, his face was cold. “Good, you're back.”

I glanced at the men behind him. “What's going on here?”

“You need to pack your things,” he said, pointing toward the house. “It's time you leave.”

“What?’ I said, staring at him in disbelief.

“You heard him,” his wife said. “This house no longer belongs to you.”

“Uncle, please,” I said with my voice shaking, my chest felt tight. He didn't respond, his face remained hard. I looked at my aunt, hoping for some sign of kindness but there was none. The men in black stood silently behind them like walls.

“Ten minutes,” my uncle said. “That's all you get.”

I swallowed hard, my legs felt weak as I walked inside the house. I hurried upstairs and grabbed my suitcase, my hands shaking as I packed up.

Then I stood still, I needed some of my father's business files. I quietly stepped out of my room and walked down to his study room.

I pushed the door open, walked to the large desk and opened the drawer but it was empty. I moved to the cabinet, it was also empty–every file that should have been there was gone.

“Someone was here,” I whispered, standing still in the middle of the room breathing hard.

“Time’s up,” my uncle’s voice echoed downstairs.