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He nods, and his gaze flicks to the windows. His fingers claw into the armrests of the chair he's sitting in.
I need answers. Taking advantage of an old man isn't nice, but we could have real trouble. "Why did you enter the agreement?"
His lips purse tight as he grips his hands into fists. “Don’t pry. It’s unladylike. Maybe you’re not suited for my son.”
Mr. Foster hops up and moves to the door, not looking back as he leaves. So much for finding out information. I've been a pawn for too long. I should have taken things into my own hands before now. My father may have power over me, but he's not around, and the guard working for him is gone. I won't leave this house, mainly because I have no clue who wants to harm me, but I don't have to stay locked in my room. I can go anywhere inside here, which means I can gain access to a computer.
It has been a while since I’ve been allowed to sit at a computer and not have someone watching my every move, recording my activities, relaying back to Eric and Valery every item I search for.
A computer sits in the open on a desk across the room. I move to it, watching the door to make sure no one is about to barge in. I touch the mouse, and the screen flashes on. By some miracle, no password is needed. My heart speeds up as excitement rolls through me.
It’s just me, a computer, and no one else. The new guy watching me hasn’t stepped inside this room. He doesn’t know I’ve been watched so closely for most of my life that I don’t get computer time. Freedom feels good.
What should I do first? I could log into social media, but my parents know my passwords. I love watching makeup videos, but I can do that without my parents getting upset. I need to figure out how much money is in my bank account, the one my parents don't know about. I log into my bank account in the Caymans and check the balance. The money has grown some. I want to stand up and dance around, but I settle for a little dance in my chair. I have money. It's not a lot, but something I can use later. It's there if I need to run, and that makes me feel good.
I've been looking at how much things cost, and what I have now won't be enough without getting a job. But getting a job means I’d have to reveal who I am, and that's the last thing I want to do.
After I log out, I close the browser and clear my history. Does Mr. Foster have an email account? What would happen if I looked? No one is keeping tabs on my activities.
I hover over the email icon and click it. I'm not sure what I'm expecting, but this isn't it. There's nothing special here, just information about their electric bill, the gas bill, and a few more bills. I go back more than a month looking for anything exciting. There's nothing remotely interesting in his email.
I need information, and the only way I'm going to get it is to talk to Mr. Foster. He isn't so far gone that he will chat openly with me. Maybe I can find out something looking through his house. There's no time like the present to explore. I step out of the library and notice the guard making eye contact with me. I move to him and give him the best innocent smile I can muster. I’m glad he’s here, but I hope I can manipulate him into doing what I want.
“I’m Adali, which I’m sure you already know. I don’t know your name.”
“It’s Cohen, miss.”
“Thank you, Cohen. I’m going to explore the house. Would you like to follow me around, so you know the ins and outs, too?”
“Yes, that would be great.”
“Okay. Let’s start at the top and work our way down.”
We climb the set of stairs going all the way to the attic on the third floor. I’m huffing by the time we get to the top. Cohen is barely winded. After this, I plan on starting a workout routine.
The attic starts on the third floor, but past the door, a set of stairs goes up to a smaller space at the top. It's full of boxes. I open a few and find old clothes, memorabilia, and dishes.
There is absolutely nothing special up here, or nothing I’ll find without hours of looking around. The third floor has two empty rooms that were most likely bedrooms. There’s a bathroom separating the two. That’s all, no other rooms since the space on the third floor is mostly the attic. We head down to the second floor. That's where the house starts to get interesting. The bedroom I'm in is just a regular room, but the one next to my bedroom has a secret entrance that leads to a set of stairs hidden in the wall. We only find out about the door because Cohen leans up against the wall, and it moves a little.
“What was that?” Cohen asks as he spins and pushes on the spot.
I gasp as the wall swings open, revealing a set of hidden stairs. “What in the world?”
Cohen clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. "I need to know where that goes. Do you want to stay here, and I'll be back in a moment?"
I nod, partially embarrassed by my lack of cardio ability and not sure I want to enter a dark secret passage. I should get a gym membership. Eric never would have allowed me to go to a gym. He didn’t think women needed to work out. If I’d suggested exercise, he would have thrown a fit. How will Mr. Foster be when I ask for something I want? So far, I’ve had more freedom than I’ve ever had before—at least since I was a kid.
Cohen is back in less than a minute. “It goes to a door that leads to the kitchen. Then the stairs keep going down to the basement. They also go up to the bedrooms upstairs.”
I lean into the secret passage and see a small light on the landing. There is dust in the corners of the stairs. Not a lot, but this passage isn’t used often.
I straighten as I step back into the bedroom. “Thank you. That’s good to know.”
"Yes, if you need to make a hasty exit, you can get out through here. Another thing to note is the stairs also branch off and go to another bedroom on this level."
“Very interesting.” The oddness of it strikes me. The hidden stairs seem like something you’d find in a house from a very long time ago when big houses had lots of people working in them.
We move to the next room and find Mr. Foster sleeping. I don’t want to disturb him so I pull the door closed quietly and step farther down the hall.
