Later in the evening, Master Alexandro instructed Ashley to set up a Zoom meeting. He reasoned that most of them would be too exhausted for a physical gathering.
The meeting commenced promptly. They all agreed on meeting early the next day to ensure they left a good impression on the foreign investors. Keeping them waiting, it was decided, could damage the company's reputation. Once the meeting concluded, everyone signed off.
As soon as Clara exited the call, her email notification pinged. She opened her inbox to see a message from an unknown sender. Skepticism washed over her. The rising trend in scams made her hesitate, but curiosity eventually got the better of her, and she clicked on it. The email contained a PDF attachment. She downloaded it and opened it cautiously.
The document had a single message: "A package is at your doorstep." It was signed: Santa.
"Santa?" Clara muttered, her brow furrowed in confusion. Despite her unease, she decided to check her doorstep. To her surprise, a small parcel sat there, innocuous and unassuming.
"Who could this be from?"
she murmured, carefully picking it up. It was so small she opened it with ease. But its contents jolted her memory, transporting her to the first time she had received something from an unknown sender.
Her chest tightened.
"Could it be the same person? Is this person monitoring me? What do they want?"
The questions flooded her mind.
Knowing she needed answers, she grabbed her laptop. The package included a flash drive, so she plugged it in. A video file popped up instantly. Her heart pounded as she hesitated, but she clicked play.
The video opened with a familiar voice.
"Did you wipe them all out?" Master Alexandro asked in his cold, commanding tone.
"Yes, sir. We made sure Mr. Wale and his family perished in the accident. Everything was staged to look authentic," a gruff voice replied.
"Good. Leave the country and never return,"
Master Alexandro ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
"Understood, sir," the man said before walking away.
Clara's trembling hands covered her mouth as she heard Alexandro's final chilling words:
"I warned you not to cross me. Now, you've paid the price."
The camera panned briefly to a portrait of her family. Red paint, resembling blood, had been splattered across the faces.
Clara's knees gave way, and she sank to the floor as sobs overtook her.
"This… this can't be real." Her voice cracked as tears streamed down her cheeks.
She tried to steady herself but failed.
"My father was a peaceful man. He never troubled anyone. Why would... why would Master Alexandro want my entire family dead?"
Her mind raced back to her father's business dealings with influential men. Rivalries were bound to happen, but murder? This was unthinkable.
"Master Alexandro," she whispered bitterly.
"You killed my family… my unborn sibling. For this, I'll rob you of your happiness. I'll make you pay."
Determination blazed in her tear-filled eyes as Clara stood. She didn't know how she'd seek justice, but she was certain it would happen.
Her phone's ringtone shattered her thoughts. The sudden noise startled her, and she hesitated before picking it up. The caller ID showed Mitchell. After a moment, she reluctantly answered.
"Hi," Mitchell greeted.
"Hey. Do you need anything?" she asked, her tone clipped.
Mitchell paused, sensing something was wrong. "Are you okay, Clara?"
"I'm fine," she replied tersely.
He wasn't convinced, but he decided not to push her. Taking a deep breath, he got straight to the point. "Clara, can you meet me at the bush bar? There's something important I need to discuss."
"I don't drink," she said flatly, hoping to shut down the conversation.
"It's not about drinking," he replied, his tone controlled but slightly frustrated. "Please, just meet me. I won't take much of your time."
Clara sighed heavily. "I'll be out shortly," she said before ending the call.
Throwing on a coat to protect herself from the falling snow, she made her way to the bush bar. It didn't take long for her to spot Mitchell. His perfectly sculpted figure and striking features were easy to pick out in the crowded space.
She approached the table and sat down. "Hello," she greeted softly.
Mitchell studied her face. "Clara, you seemed upset on the phone. Is everything alright?"
"I told you, I'm fine," she lied, keeping her tone even. "Just feeling under the weather."
Mitchell decided to drop it and get to the reason for his call.
"Alright, I'll get straight to it." He exhaled before continuing, "Clara, you and your grandmother saved my life. Since then, I've considered you both family, and I trust you deeply. But I need to tell you something, something I've been piecing together recently.
"As you know, someone was clearly after my life before my father found me. I realized this even more a few weeks ago. I started noticing I'd get headaches after taking my medication. At first, I ignored it. But one day, I told my cousin about it. Being carefree as she is, she tossed the medicine away. Surprisingly, the headaches stopped.
"That wasn't all," he continued, his tone more serious. "Afterward, while at the lodge, I went to take a bath. I slipped and hit my head hard on the bathroom floor. As I sat there trying to collect myself, something strange happened. It was like pieces of my memory started falling into place. Memories I thought were lost came rushing back."
Clara's attention sharpened. "You… regained your memory?"
"Yes," he confirmed. Clara, I don't know who I can trust anymore. But I know for sure that someone very close to me wants me dead."
Clara's mind reeled. She tried to reconcile this revelation with what she had just learned from the video.
"Do you suspect who it is?" she finally asked.
Mitchell hesitated, his jaw clenching. "Not yet. But the more I remember, the closer I get."
Clara nodded, understanding his turmoil even as her own emotions churned. She looked Mitchell in the eyes. "You aren't alone in this."
His gaze softened at her words, but an unspoken heaviness hung in the air. Neither knew what lay ahead, but for now, they had each other.