Their Secret Little Assassin

Chapter Fifty One

"Belle, good to see you're finally home," Ezio said as I walked in the garage door.

"Uh, yeah, I was busy," I tell him as I hold onto the bag tighter.

"What did you get?" Elmo asks as he gestured towards the bag.

"Just something for my room," I shrug.

"But what is it?" He asked again.

"It's about to be your head if you keep asking questions," I tell him.

"Belle," Ezio said in a warning tone.

"It a wax melter," I fake smile at him. "It's like a candle without the flame."

It actually is a wax melter, I already got all the bags I need upstairs.

"Cool," he nods.

"Dad, can I use one of the guest rooms for something?" I asked.

"Sure, but what for?" He questioned.

"A project," I shrug.

"Vague, but I guess," he shrugs.

"Thanks," I say as I give him a quick side hug and go upstairs.

I put my bag for this room away and grab the other ten and my laptop.

I make my way to the 6th guest bedroom which shares a wall with my art room.

I look at the wall it shares and deem it perfect.

What's so special about this room?

The bathroom and closet are on the same wall which leaves one completely empty wall to have fun with.

I dump the contents of the bag on the bed and grab the new door handle for this room.

I just don't want anyone coming in here to look at my project.

I replaced the handle quickly and sat on the bed with a new iPhone.

Here me out with this one.

I carefully removed the screen from the phone and disassembled it.

I started to study the phone when I was called downstairs.

"Jasmine is back!" Ezio yelled.

"I'll be right there," I yell back.

I placed the open phone on the bed and left room before locking it.

I slid on the railing down the stairs and saw Jasmine anxiously waiting for me.

Once she saw me she nearly burst out into tears.

"Let's go upstairs," I tell her before she starts to cry.

She nodded and followed me up the stairs and into my bedroom.

"I'm going to assume the talk with your mom didn't go well?" I asked her.

"No, she absolutely hates me. How can a mother hate her own child? I haven't even met mine and I already love it to death," Jasmine cried.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" I ask her.

"No, she was threatening my baby, so I had to stay up to make sure she doesn't hurt him," Jasmine cried.

"How about you take a nap," I suggest.

"That sounds good, I'm so sorry," she sobbed as she got comfortable.

"Don't apologize," I tell her as I turn off the light and leave the room.