7: Edward’s mansion

Seth

His words were like daggers to my heart, slicing them into bits, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“You had a choice when you left the house and went to see…” he paused and chuckled, “he was the friend that bought those items for you, the one you were with all weekend,” he laughed sadly.

“August we can talk about this,” I whispered, approaching him gently. His cold eyes landed on me again.

“I swear to God I will fucking punch your teeth in if you approach me. How stupid do you think I am?” He threw his hands in the air, “To think I thought you were different, but you were just some hungry gold-digging slut that was looking for the next pole to ride to see Santa.”

“Fuck you, August! How can you say that!? You know how hard I worked, but I can’t find a good job because I’m still in fucking college!”

“No one asked you to take the admission, you could have gone to some poor backwater college where you could easily afford the bills,” he seethed, walking toward me. I bit back the words that I knew would cause him to stir.

“I’m sure your mother would be so proud of you,” he said sarcastically and that was the last straw.

“Now I can afford to pay my fees with ease,” I snapped at him. His eyes widened and fell back into slits, “You fucking bi-” he charged toward me when Armani glided between the two of us.

“I suggest you reconsider your stance and calm down, Mr August. Assault, intimidation, and likely battery if you touch him, the legal effects are limitless.” August scoffed and stepped back.

“What now? You’re just going to be his lawyer now? After how many years you have worked with us?”

“I worked with Mr Edward and he gave me instructions before he died that I had to help Seth,” Armani said. August nodded, throwing his head around like he didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Be careful, who knows if he will try to get into your pants next,” August mocked, his tone laced with outright bitterness and condescension before he left. I couldn’t move an inch as I watched him disappear into the house. I hated how hurt I felt even though I knew what was coming.

My heart burned as I remembered my mother. He had no right to do or say that to me! Fuck him! I was done: it felt like we were trapped in a perpetual cycle for the past few weeks even before his Uncle died.

“Come, I will take you home,” Armani led me toward the car. I’m sure if I bothered to pay attention while he was driving, I would have heard one thing or two about the company I was supposed to manage.

As we rounded the corner of my street, I heard the murmurs. My eyes widened when I caught the crowd of flashing cameras that were stationed in front of my apartment. I glanced at Armani who was stunned as well. What are they doing here?

“How did they get wind of it so fast?” he muttered as he parked the car by the curb. He pulled his phone and scrolled through, “shit.” It was the first time I heard him curse. He angled the phone to my face, it was a video that was taken inside the mansion and in the background, I could hear Armani’s voice.

“Selena, she made a video while I was reading the will,” he sighed, “to think that these people had an orientation on crisis management.”

“He’s over there!” Someone yelled and pointed their finger toward me. It was one of the cameramen from the crowd. I froze as I connected with the eyes of every one of them. The rat race began when one of them broke free from the split immobility.

“We have to get you out of here,” Armani shifted the gear and pushed the car into the drive. I could see them from the side mirror, a few of them had given up, others were still running till they gassed out and became specs on the horizon.

“You can’t stay there anymore,” he said, but I already knew this. It was only a matter of time before they broke into my apartment and captured me from my bed. I felt that weight once again, this time, it came with sadness. Everything had happened so fast, so quickly. Within a twinkle of an eye, everything changed, like the flip of a coin.

Civilisation began to melt into foliage and then large trees rippled past me.

“Where are we going?” I asked sullenly.

“Edward’s mansion. It is the safest bet…for now.”

“For now?” I pressed but he didn’t answer, his hands just tightened on the wheel, his eyes lasered on the road. He turned onto a dirt road that led to a magnificent gate that towered over us.

He wound the glass down by his side and inserted in hands into the slot machine that was the height of the car, it beeped once and the gate whirred open. He wound down my side as well, there was a twin machine there.

“Insert your hand, you need to have your prints registered since…” he trailed off. I slid my palms in and placed them flatly against the panel. The insides of the machine felt unusually warm. It began to glow red, before a burst of air hit me.

“Registered,” the mechanical voice came from within.

The estate was large, it had to be twice the size of the Beaumont mansion. I couldn’t even see the top through the windshield.

“You will get used to it,” he said. I knew I wouldn’t.

Armani dropped me off and promised to come back, and soon, darkness fell, leaving me alone in this house. It felt like I was lost in a cave, each room just kept leading to more rooms. I sighed in relief when I found what appeared to be Edward’s study, apparently the registration at the gate changed the entire prints in the house as well.

It was warmer in here, different from the rest of the rooms that had a ghoul of cold lingering. It felt like he spent more time in here than in the rest of the rooms.

The surfaces were neat, as if they had been cleaned recently. Did he have people who maintained this place in his absence? I ran my fingers through his smooth desk, the soft wood felt rich underneath my fingers. There was a picture frame perched on the end of the table.

They looked like a happy family: smiles on their faces, glee in their eyes, they looked like they never had to worry about what to eat and what to drink. August, there he was in his trunks, a bold smile on his boyish face. He looked around ten to twelve years old.

I smiled.

I caught a glint of a reflection behind me from the glass frame and I pivoted. There he was, August, standing by the door with the same look he had in the morning, rage.