Golden rays streamed into The Blossom Penthouse of The Gilded Garden Suites, casting intricate lace-like shadows across the plush carpet and dappled reflections in the koi pond on the balcony.
At a grand rosewood dining table, Cassidy lounged in her nightwear, a deep emerald-green satin robe that flowed around her like liquid silver. Before her lay a meticulously plated omelet, utensils, a glass of milk, and her cellphone. A tantalizing aroma spiraled up from the plate, hinting at the roasted bell peppers, sautéed onions, and fresh herbs contained within.
As the delightful scent played with her senses, the murmur of an audiobook flowed into her ears from her earbuds, reading chapter five of Windswept Wishes. It cocooned her in a world separate from the room until a soft chime paused the speaker.
Cassidy shifted her attention to her cellphone, which screen lit up with a message from her grandfather.
Call me at your earliest convenience.
Cassidy’s brow quirked and she pressed the call button.
“I am relatively free at the moment,” she said as she turned on the conference function and sat the phone down. “I presume you discovered something monumental?”
“It seems the threads I unraveled yesterday have led us to Sam’s killer. According to Dr. Holloway, the responsible party is a prison guard named Hugo Stein. I am inclined to believe him, in light of Mr. Stein’s unexplained disappearance. Law enforcement is pursuing Mr. Stein as we speak.”
Cassidy’s heart stuttered. “I trust you have no intentions of prolonging your stay there?”
“Don’t fret, kiddo, I’m steering clear of the manhunt. Nonetheless, there is still much to discover here.”
“Any inkling as to what compelled him to take Sam’s life?”
“I have reason to believe that The Trus might be at the heart of this.”
Cassidy blinked – once, twice, three times – in quick succession. The Trus? How had they wormed their way into this?
“According to my sources,” Edan said, “Mr. Stein employed The Trus as a threat against the doctor. He misreported the crime in exchange for his own safety.”
Cassidy frowned. The idea of Andrea collaborating with a criminal syndicate seemed far-fetched. How would she even reach out to them? There was little to no convergence between their respective spheres. The Trus were a grassroots, militant, and ultra-nationali—
Cassidy’s eyes ballooned as the missing piece materialized.
The logical intermediary for Andrea was her father! His ties to the Heimilis Heritage Party synced up nicely with The Trus’ political leanings. Furthermore, as the Chairman of Obsidian Financial Holdings, he had the tools to reach out to them.
“Considering Andrea’s familial ties,” Cassidy said, “it’s conceivable that she engineered this with her father’s assistance.”
“Is there evidence to suggest her father’s involvement with The Trus?”
“A clandestine search of his residence might yield evidence.”
“Respect his privacy, kiddo,” Edan said. “Act only when you possess concrete evidence, not just a theory.”
Cassidy nipped at the inside of her cheek.
“Moreover,” Edan continued, “you have not yet utilized Hawthorne’s Hatchet. The truth often takes the straightest path, not the winding one. There’s likely a less intricate reason for Sam’s death. We shouldn’t overlook the idea that Hugo or someone associated with The Trus within the prison held their own vendettas.”
Cassidy continued to gnaw on her cheek. Her grandfather’s words had merit… But why dally with endless possibilities? The mission was simple: pin down Andrea’s role in this matter. Why dance around the issue?
“Once you’ve fulfilled your duty to the company,” Edan said, “I’ll request your mother’s blessing with this investigation. Let’s explore the options together.”
With a sudden wrinkle of her nose, Cassidy grimaced. She had seen this pattern before, with Diego. Why should she walk on eggshells for him? She knew her strengths.
“If you’ll indulge me,” she said, her voice composed, “I would like to propose an alternate approach.”
“…You have my attention.”
“I believe it would be advantageous to adopt a strategy that encompasses three different angles. You focus on the conventional path while I conduct a more discreet investigation.”
“I just stressed the significance of honoring privacy.”
“I recall,” Cassidy said, her words as sharp as a rose’s thorns. “I likewise recall you mentioning Mariposa and her visits. Wouldn’t it be prudent to investigate that as well?”
“…What approach do you have in mind?”
Cassidy speared a chunk of her omelet with her fork, sliced it off with her knife, and lifted a piece to her lips while wearing a sly smirk. She had her bases covered with Andrea. Her scheme demanded a dash of on-the-fly adjustments for the present, but it was something she long mulled over.
Drawing out the moment, Cassidy chewed her food and the issue. Only once her thoughts solidified did she swallow and speak.
“The investigation can serve as our initial approach. We’ll discuss stuff with her under the veil of learning more about Sam. During this, I’ll seize the opportunity to provoke Andrea, enticing her into a Tennis exhibition.”
“And how does this plan relate to Miss Ramos?”
“I’ll propose a doubles match – Mariposa and Andrea against Rae and myself. I imagine Andrea will rise to the challenge instantly, but if she doesn’t, I’ll entice her with incentives. Regardless, the match can serve us in two respects. One, it provides Rebecca with a pretext – she can pose as a journalist and interact with Mariposa. Two, if Andrea is indeed the sort to mastermind such things, I can tempt her into attacking me before the match.”
“I presume you will employ covert monitoring to detect any potential schemes on her part.”
“Would you rather I blind myself?” Cassidy asked as she carved out another piece of the omelet.
“…What do you intend to do if she doesn’t bite, and Rebecca’s investigation proves fruitless?”
“First, Rae and I will triumph in the exhibition. Then we’ll put her character to the test by offering her the means and opportunity to take vengeance against me via Rebecca’s cover. If she’s as innocent as she proclaims, she’ll refuse.”
“What if you fail to defeat them?”
Cassidy’s grasp on her fork and knife firmed, nearly mangling her omelet. “I will emerge victorious – provided we even reach the game. Who’s to say what will happen in the interval?”
“…Would you be willing to stake your position as leader for this venture?”
As if doused in ice water, an abrupt coldness enveloped Cassidy’s core, rooting her to her spot. Then she gritted her teeth. If she bowed now, he’d always undermine her leadership. “Absolutely.”
“Very well,” Edan said. “We shall proceed with your plan, then. However, if you cannot deliver results, I shall assume command of the team.”
