"Grief is loud, but some people only mourn in silence"
The autumn leaves moved gracefully against the wind, in the depressing atmosphere. My black trench coat helped me blend in with everyone around, although my facial expressions told me apart. While everyone had tears down their cheeks, I had a naturally-swollen and stoic face that may catch people off guard. I mean, I was his adopted daughter so... shouldn't I be sad? No, shouldn't I be rolling down the ground sobbing and screaming "Come back to me!"?
Well, that would be the case if my adoptive-father wasn't so life threatening. Crying would mean that I honored him... that I honored a man who constantly abused me ever since I was ten. The man who adopted me for labor, personal entertainment and perfect public image? I guess I can thank him for making the person I am today: fearful, cold and mentally unstable.
I couldn't run. I couldn't hide. All I could do, was wonder who my real parents were, before I was forced to live in the orphanage. But that thought gradually faded, when the realization of the fact that life is not like those movies where major reunions happen; it is where life shuts your imaginations off and tell you to suck it up and move on.
Victor's death was sudden. That Wednesday night, I was informed from the hospital that he had a heart attack. He had been taken to the ER before he passed, right after he was claimed to be unconscious on a public bench.
The sounds of cries and plea surrounded the entire ground, while the flower-framed photo of Victor Montez began to move, along with the rest of him. Victor is gone... but Montez? It still lives on, but it would end with me. Unfortunately, I'm the heiress and all I know that the more power I get, the more powerful the probability of me getting killed gets.
I could hear the uniform sounds of my heels as I walked down the hallway of the part building of Montez Global. Even though my regular black suit was enough to blend in, the feeling of multiple eyes turning my way didn't seem to soften.
I opened the door of the meeting room, lifting the eyes of all the experienced and elder friends of my step-father. It took guts and long steps to get to my seat with everyone staring. I sat down, opening my file and waited for the beginning.
Mr. Parker, a close friend of Victor stood up, addressing the members. "Good morning, the board members of Montez Global Empire. I'm deeply in sorrow to remind you all about the passing of one of the greatest and beginning light for this empire, Mr. Victor Montez. But, thankfully, his daughter, Sophie Montez would automatically take over his position as she would be the heiress"
Nods and light claps sounded through each member as they either judged me or simply noticed me. I stand up, with my usual expression. Even though I haven't rehearsed or even had a tiny act of preparation, it didn't take long for me to realize that if I just showed what I wanted from them, they'll understand and leave me alone: "Good morning, the board members. It's unfortunate of the previous events and the effect it has on the company, but my new position as the heiress surely wouldn't disrupt any of the upcoming or ongoing projects or activities that the empire is yet to finish. I'm simply here to run this security firm but the whole job needs everyone's participation, so if you have any questions, either try to answer it yourselves or come to me for any advice or ideas. I expect no different behaviors towards this change of ownership and simple understandings only. No gossips. No eye works. And no actions are to be done without an inform. Overall, I want a smooth run. Make it happen"
I take my files in hand and walk out of the boardroom, not leaving any room for arguments. Rude, I know. But, when you have a lot going on, you don't really want to answer silly questions which either aren't related to the subject, or are irrelevant altogether.
It's a shame, actually. This isn't what I wanted. I hated my step-dad, but taking his place is even worse. No matter what I would say or do, I know that they see his ghost in my eyes. Even using such power feels like I'm becoming him – and it terrifies me.
I walk back down the familiar hallway, until a lady stops in front of me. I noticed her bright blue eyes, blonde bun and full suit as she held her clipboard. "Excuse me, Ms. Montez?"
I hum in response, as in for her to continue.
"One of our new clients who called in today asked for your presence for a meeting at the café across the street"
"When?"
"Right now, would be best, ma'am. It's currently 2.30pm and the scheduled timing was 2:45pm. You would make it on time if you're on your way right now"
"Since when did I allow you to make any decisions, whether it's to meet other clients, on your own without my consent?" I asked, bluntly. I mean, I could've been busy at this time.
I watch her gulp, as she shifts nervously. "S-sorry, ma'am! I just assumed that you were fre-"
"Assumptions" I stated, in my usual tone. "These can be wrong at times. And if they were, there's a chance it might have a disastrous result. Just don't repeat this, alright?"
"Apologies, ma'am! It won't happen again" and the frantic informer rushed away.
"Frantic and Fearful" I thought, as I sighed. "Guess we have something in common"
I grabbed my bag from my office desk and walked out of the door that said 'Ms. Sophie Montez – Owner's Office'. It was a strange sight and it didn't have a ring to it. I returned all the bows, and morning greetings on my way out the grand but common entrance of the building. I don't really think security firms deserved a personalized entrance or exit, anyway.
The only café across the street, held up a sign that was spelt out in annoyingly and bubbly pink, 'SWEET CAFFEINE', which not even the people with shorter sights could miss, no matter the distance.
I paused as I saw a burnt piece of paper on the ground... it was still burning a little, with smoke releasing so I tap it with my foot to put it out. Public service? No. Evading futuristic issues? That's more accurate.
My eyes went up as I saw a girl, similar height, hair length and even outfit walking into the café. Same Style, I thought as I tapped the paper one more time.
Just then, screams and cries were filling the atmosphere. It all happened so fast. My eyes were met with the sight of the very same annoyingly signed café, which was now all orange with flames. I gasped as the people inside started frantically running around. The sight of a broken car was now in view, displaying itself against the interior of the café, which was now crumbling down due to the sudden crash. My body couldn't move; I was stoned. I was worried of the people who were in it. The girl who had similar features, like me. The individuals who just wanted a happy atmosphere and a cup of coffee. Burned. Gone. I crouched and covered my ears suddenly, as a blast had occurred. The car wasn't just a victimized vehicle in this situation... it was a bomb-blasting weapon. It deafened my ears, and my sight was against the pavement, which had now caused my palms and knees to bleed at the sudden contact.
Suddenly, my arms were grabbed and I was stood up by two men, in security-guard-styled uniforms. "Ms. Montez, are you alright?" One of them asked.
Well, that was an insensible question. If I just had (practically) fallen down on the cracked, skin-tearing pavement because a car crash had occurred across the street, where it not only caused a fire but actually exploded to the point where cars swiveled, like a deadly merry-go-round, and had their glasses shatter around me... would I still be alright? And not shaken? And yet...
"Yes" I muttered as I adjusted my footing. "Go call the fire department"
They nodded, as they got their walkie-talkie's and dialed.
My mind was driving a hundred miles an hour. How could this have happened? The car that crashed was clearly knowing where it was going as, from what I saw, it drove straight. Normally, a car would move a little weird if it was out of control. There were no sounds of car-screeches during the previous non-chaotic minutes. Was it... planned? Or just a dying coincidence? Either way, the client is gone, along with the helpful convenience of caffeine near a busy safety firm workplace. And my life was just saved... by a burning piece of paper.
I walk into my still-unfamiliar office, setting my bag on the table, sitting. I crossed my legs as I looked through the calendar for the day, while yesterday's events kept replaying in my head. I sighed as I set the schedules on the table, knowing that the past is not going to get me anywhere. I switched on my laptop and got to work: examining the analytics of the firm's financial aspects, while constantly reviewing whether all clients have been satisfied with the present progress.
I eyed the rose that sat on top of the stack of reports on my desk; it was alive but had no liveliness... it was red, but not with romance. And most of all, it had a good presence but had no purpose in being in its current position.
I take the plant-based-decoration-element in my hand, running through the little details with my fingers. Just then, a pattern of knocks was heard on my door, "Come in".
In came a lady, who I immediately recognized as the lady from yesterday. "I don't think I had appropriately introduced myself to you, Ms. Montez" I waited. "My name is Mrs. McKenna Kent and I would be your secretary"
"Why would I need a secretary?" I asked, bluntly. Honestly, handling a whole empire is godly infuriating enough... and now, I have to have a frantic lady follow me around, reminding me of the events I've already scheduled organizationally myself? No, no.
"Because-" Mrs. Kent began but I cut her off.
"I'm a little girl who can't remember her own event timings and locations and whatnot? I think we both know how ludicrous this sounds, when we consider the facts of me being on my own in running this empire and you just being... an alarm clock"
"Excuse me?"
"That's what you'd be, right?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. "You'd be constantly walking around with me, reminding me of my upcoming events and timings with your highly-pitched vocal tone that really annoys me. Sounds like my customized reminders on my phone. AKA, an alarm clock"
"But that's-"
"Different? How? Other than the obvious observation of you being a living thing and not an automatic wired machine, there's really not much of a difference" I sighed. "I would advise you to consider the possibility of me actually "
"But I was your father's secretary and he never had a problem with it" She argued back, in a low tone. Mrs. Kent was slowly growing guts and this isn't going to grow further when she's with me – that's for sure.
"My step-father" I began, emphasizing on the reminder of my previous parent status. "doesn't have the same soul or any part of myself, so why compare your experience with him in this context? I'm not going to satisfy anyone's expectations of becoming like him or inherit his behavioral aspects. So, don't try to remind me of your previous position with my step-father because it isn't going to affect how I'm going to deal with you"
She looked taken aback, attracting her blue eyes back down to the ground. "S-sorry, ma'am. I didn't realize how ignorant I sounded"
"Let's just hope it doesn't happen again. As for your position, I'll give you to choose" I take my report of the job-position statuses of the firm. "You can either take over the vacant assistant worker position for the Accounting sector of the firm-"
She held up her hands, crying out. "No, no, ma'am! Don't send me to that sector. It reeks of bubble gum and the manager there is really strict when it comes to submission and consistency-"
"I wasn't finished" I stated. "Your reason isn't even considered valid. I want results and if it means to go through a bubble gum scented room with a manager that is only objectivizing on getting things done, then so be it"
You could say that I come out as quite a cold and harsh individual but could you blame me? My anger issues have just escalated with the new frustrating of an environment, and the people around me should consider it. Even if they barely know me or had just met me.
She just stood, either speechless or just straight-up surprised... or even both.
"Now" I continued. "You can either do that or... help Ms. Wendy with scrubbing the toilets"
"You mean, Janitor Wendy!" Mrs. Kent didn't even leave a few minutes to answer. "I would love to be the assistant worker for the Accounting Sector"
I nodded. "Good, you're dismissed"
I shake my head as I heard her mutter. "I'm going to have to get used to this"
My hazel eyes met the sight of the rose again. Its petals were still fresh, unnervingly fresh — like someone had placed it there this morning. Slowly, I lifted it, letting the thorns press lightly against my fingers. It didn't hurt, but it reminded me it could.
I looked up at Mrs. Kent. "Do you know who left this here?"
She blinked, thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No one has access to this room but you, Ms. Montez. Maybe you brought it in and forgot?"
I held her gaze for a long second. "I don't forget things."
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't argue. She only nodded and left quietly, the door clicking shut behind her.
The office was silent again. Too silent. I set the rose down carefully on the corner of my desk, watching it like it might move on its own.
A flower in a locked room.
A reminder, a warning or an accidental misplacement— I couldn't tell which.
Either way, it meant one thing: someone wanted me to notice.
The next morning was just like any other... forceful. I stare up at the familiar ceiling of my room. The atmosphere was silent but heavy. The past memories of the torture I endured behind these very walls should've been the reason I should be happy of the recent decease of my step-father, but the never-ending fear would never leave.
I sit up straight and rub my eyes as I glanced at my week event planner, before continuing to make my bed until I pause to an unusual green object peeking out from under my pillow. I tug on it, and out came a long-stemmed red rose.
How did that get there? I thought as I examined it. It seemed like a similar one from yesterday but I couldn't quite explain the reason behind the appearance of this rose either. I look over at the vase on my coffee table, which holds the previous rose.
The one I held had a slight change in appearance, considering one petal was a lot darker than the others. Almost burnt. I hated roses. Why? My stepdad loved them. Why? It appears that a lot of women at the time were head over heels over an unattractive man with gifting roses as 'Be with me forever' gifts.
I thought long and hard.
Someone placed this here. And that someone got close to me while I was asleep. The doors are always locked, and the key always sat on my nightstand drawer, available at only my reach. A locked room. And yet, no protection?
I sat at the back of the car as the driver did his job, but my thoughts weren't in that location. It was at the very exact place I left from. Who could've broken in? Whoever it was, they were skilled enough to leave no evidence behind at all. No signs of a break in.
My thoughts were interrupted by a phone ring. Unknown number. Understandable. I never really saved useless numbers of so-called friends. I sighed as I pressed the device against my ear. "Hello?"
Nothing.
Just a repetition of breathing.
"Hello?" I say again, trying to pinpoint any familiarities in the vocal tone.
No spoken reply.
I grew impatient and pressed decline. Prank calls are trending nowadays... I thought as I examined the unusual number. Strange set of numbers, in a strange order. It seemed mixed up, but carefully placed at the same time. 2020530000. It can't be a real phone number... right? It doesn't take a genius to classify the organized and abstract numbering to be weird.
Not even a minute has passed when a text notification appeared on my phone. The same number.
"You seem happy"
I stared long and hard at the three words that seemed foreign. Happy? Me? It's not about me labelling myself as a stoic petite girl and wanting to maintain that useless image; but it was about the actual comment. No one seemed to say something like that to describe the past or the present version of myself.
Nothing else was said. From either end.
I look up and take a quick scan of my surroundings. A lonely Range Rover, driven by a man who'd rather do anything else, and a 22-year-old unsocial female who's getting weird comments and experiences, likely to be done by the same person. Life is interesting.
The next day was a board meeting. Board, not bored. Disgusted quick glances gave my eyes a glimpse of everyone's thoughts: "How could this irresponsible-looking, immature girl with attitude inherit a position in which I worked my old ass for all my life?"
I just looked straight, at the main director, Mr. Clint Harlow, who was discussing an important matter regarding the construction process of the new commercial building, which I doubt the use of needing one in the first place as the current one runs just fine.
As I let my eyes drift, I catch sight of a vase, sitting on the surface of a wooden cabinet, just a few feet away from the director. It's what was peeking out that made me stare.
A red rose.
Why does a red rose appear everywhere I go? It may just be a coincidence. Roses are questionably-adored by almost everyone in the population so it could just be an over-thinking process. But how did it appear in my room-
"Ms. Montez?" I was instantly brought back from my thoughts, meeting the seventeen pairs of eyes.
"Yes?"
"Any questions about the overall plan for the commercial building? The blueprints here display the intended division of each room, with efficient space and-"
"Just" I interrupted Clint immediately, leaning back slightly as I eye the blueprints on the big screen beside him, with the big heading: The Montez Innovation Tower. "Why do we need one in the first place? I didn't come across a suitable reason on why this operation should take place. Sure, it would be efficient, but it wouldn't be logical"
I could see his eyes twitch as he stated. "But Ms. Montez, this could really help the empire to
grow-"
It took my entire control system to stop my eyes from rolling. "And for what purpose? The empire is huge already. We don't need to add another source of expenses"
"With Victor's passing, investors are nervous. We need a statement project — something visible, something bold. The Tower would be a symbol of continuity. It tells the world the Montez Global Empire is still unshakable under your leadership" He smiles slightly. "Your beloved step-father dreamed of it; let it be in his memory"
My fists began to clench tight under the table at the mention of my step-father, but I kept my face neutral. "I've gone through the proposal. The numbers don't make sense. We're already expanding into two major sectors this quarter; adding another construction will only drain liquidity. The empire doesn't need another monument, Clint. I just don't think it's a good idea. It's a risk, no matter how legendary it seems"
Clint mildly smiled, almost a smirk, as he stated. "Ah, but Miss Montez, this isn't about need. Like I mentioned before, It's about continuity. The empire thrives on perception. Your father understood that — he built to be seen."
I had enough. "The last time I checked, he's dead. And I'm the new heiress of this empire. So, I refuse to spend millions of dollars on some dream of a dead person"
The atmosphere instantly shifted into quiet and plain still. Some giving me surprised glances, and some just plain out glaring.
I watch as the director's smile tighten, but not drop. "Of course. You're entitled to your opinion." He gives me an amused expression as he turns his gaze back to the board members. "However, the other members have already voted in favor. Unanimously, in fact."
My eyes narrowed slightly as I processed what he just said. "I'm the head of this empire. My approval isn't an opinion. It's a decision."
Clint's expression shifts; respectful on the surface, but something else was underneath that I couldn't quite pinpoint. "With all due respect, Miss Montez... you're new here. The Montez board has functioned for years under a very specific structure. Experience matters, especially in matters this... delicate."
A quiet, collective nod moves around the table. The kind of synchronized loyalty that doesn't need words. One comment ran through my mind as I stared at them. Puppets. Perfectly Poised Puppets.
He straightens, adjusting his tie, then adds, voice calm but cutting.
"And you should remember, Miss Montez... in the event the board finds leadership compromised or unfit to act in the company's best interest, we are well within our rights to take charge. Temporarily, of course."
A murmur of agreement ripples through the room. He taps the folder on the table; deliberate, final.
"The vote stands. Construction begins next quarter. Next week"
The room then smelt nothing but Polished Wood.
The ceiling was boringly satisfying to my eyes at the exact moment I had flopped on the bed, feeling tired of being pissed all day. My legs spread out as if it had been de-energized, my arms struck with a slight numbness and my facial features getting stiffer every minute.
A cricket's voice was the only melodious masterpiece which took over the dark, and quite large, room. I turned my head towards the nightstand, which was heavily-decorated with a lit-lamp, and a single vase. The two roses sticking out, as if they were about to levitate.
The mystery of the such flowers still hadn't been solved in my head. But a solution in order to prevent such a thing from happening was arranged. Installation of multiple locks on my front door and my bedroom door, alarm sensors all over the estate, and CCTV cameras in every exterior corner. My phone has a 'spam call' alert installed, in order to avoid any prank calls or useless implication of speech.
I forced myself to take a bath, mainly because I thought my focus would rather be on how my green-apple-scented shampoo does its magic, than the possibility of a jobless human being trying to threaten me because of God-knows-what reason.
As the cold water soaked my hair, my mind drifts back to Clint. What was his relationship with Victor? Why did he care so much about a dream of someone who's dead? Victor wasn't a good person so there can't be a reason like 'Your step-father was the only one who helped me when I was down' or anything related. However, Victor was good and highly-skilled at being a narcissist so maybe Clint actually believed that Victor was good, when he really was getting manipulated. If so, what could the commercial building really be for?
These thoughts still remained even after dressing into a black-tee and shorts, in other words – pajamas. I sat back on the bed, towel-drying my hair while eyeing the two roses once again. I've never really had friends, growing up, nor have I made enemies. So, what's the deal? The rose couldn't magically appear under my pillow.
I felt a slight unease, knowing that someone had gotten that close, while I was asleep. The only people who had the key was me, and it's always inside my nightstand drawer. There were no signs of forced entry that day.
I sighed as I realized that there was no point in me going over this all over again so I laid back, against the pillow, and sleep took over powerfully in an instant.
But that sleep didn't last a while. In, what felt like, a half-hour, a loud glass-shatter from downstairs jolted me awake. I sat up abruptly and still, trying to classify this as an existent event or a Nocturnal Vision. Soon, another glass shatters, but this time, the sound came from right outside my bedroom door.
I took soft steps as I rushed towards the door, peering through the key hole, as if it was some helpful telescope. Nothing. But the sounds made up for it. Loud shuffles and noises arose, appearing almost intentional. Crashes, shatters, smashes and echoes of, what seemed like, multiple furniture.
My phone was immediately grabbed from the nightstand and phoned the police. But as soon as I hung up, slow knocks were made against my door. It had a planned intention – to frighten. I could feel my body freeze as the knock began to form a pattern.
Knock. Knock-Knock. Knock. Knock-Knock-Knock.
I couldn't bring myself to speak or even yell out a scream. Not because I was scared to, but it was because I was just frozen.
As if at the right time, the security alarms began to blare, and the knocking stopped, but the repetitive aches I felt in my chest didn't. I pressed my ears against the door, hearing fading but fast footsteps. When distant police sirens were heard, I unlocked the multiple pad-locks on the door and stepped out.
Nothing but a small breath hitch left my lips as I stared at the interior of my home. Trashed. Just plainly trashed. Glass shards were everywhere, probably from the multiple broken windows and glass ornaments. The curtains, carpets and even the couch materials were torn apart, leaving only shreds. I walked into the kitchen, seeing all plates and glassware in pieces on the floor, imperfectly laid to represent some deadly abstract art.
My head shot up as I heard the front door get kicked down. I rushed out of the kitchen, to see multiple officers rush in, scattering into many parts of the estate, frantic but focused.
A middle-aged officer rushed towards me, escorting me out of the house, onto the front lawn, where police tape was surrounding it. I sat on a ledge near the fence, where a lady officer wrapped a towel around me, and that is when I noticed how cold I felt.
"Ms. Montez" She began, bending down slightly to meet my eye. "I'm Officer Hudson. Would you mind answering a few questions"
I could only bring myself to nod.
She takes out a small notebook.
I clutched the towel tighter, partly for the freezing temperature on my body, but also from the actual event that occurred.
"Do you know who might want to do this to you, Ms. Montez?"
I shook my head. Other than my dead-stepfather, I had no other logical alternatives.
"Did this happen repeatedly in the past?"
I shook my head.
"You don't seem to have tight security. Your CCTV cameras were destroyed, your alarms barely served their purpose and your locks were broken" She sighed as she placed her notebook back into her pocket, looking back at me. "No bodyguards?"
I shook my head, slowly. Getting a bodyguard had never really crossed my mind, mainly because I was never a fan of depending on another to improve my safety.
Hudson raised an eyebrow, as if I was the weirdest girl she's ever seen. "Are you telling me that the heiress of the Montez Global Empire, doesn't have a bodyguard? Did your dad have one?"
"My step-dad had a lot" I continued, shrugging. "I just didn't think I'd need one"
She fidgets for something in her pocket, saying, "Well, you do". She then pulled out a small card, handing it to me. I catch sight of the title, Apex Defense. "I suggest you contact this firm and have them assign a bodyguard to you. The wait would be about a day or two but it's worth it. Next time, this intruder might not be so kind enough to spare your life, so measures must be taken"
I raise an eyebrow. "But what would the bodyguard do? Clearly, the intruder wasn't really afraid of the police, judging by the damage he's done"
"Well..." She began. "If the intruder wasn't intimidated by the police, a bodyguard's job would shift to managing immediate threats and minimizing further damage. They'd likely assess the situation quickly, protect the client by positioning them in a safe spot, and potentially use non-lethal force to neutralize or detain the intruder. The bodyguard's primary focus would be on your safety, not just confronting the intruder head-on. If the threat level is high, they might call in backup or law enforcement while keeping you secure in the meantime"
I nod slowly. At this point, I was desperate. With the responsibility of handling the empire, I don't I would be able to handle being the center of a dartboard of some random person with a grudge.
"Ms. Montez, we'll find out who the intruder was, but in the meantime, your safety is a top-priority to, both, your empire and yourself"
I watched as the officer walked away. My hands made its way to press on my chest, since it ached heavily. This feeling felt too familiar. Again, it wasn't fear, it was something way beyond. A traumatic symptom that occurred often through the past torturous years. I thought it would stop after Victor had passed, but it's starting all over again. Whoever this person is, they're out for me. And this bodyguard would be my only chance of preventing myself from going back to the reflection of the past.
Soon, a text notification appeared. Same unknown number.
You ready to have the time of your life?
Nope. I'm ready to accept any source of protection I can get.