Heiress in Distress

•Chapter 24•

•Word Count: 2,520

I'm not sure what's more unnerving in this ironically twisted situation.
Clara's message ? The folder in my father's computer ? The fact that Herr Bastian and Frau Marlene's voices are growing closer by each passing second ?
Or the fact that we're currently sneaking our way down the stairs, with our backs pressed against the wall, crouching almost comically ?

Having reached the bottom of the stairs, the two of us stand tall, flattening out our clothes, which aren't creased at all.
When Herr Bastian walks into the living room, throwing the last bits of his words over his shoulder to the kitchen, Armin and I both freeze. Why, I'm not sure.

However, Herr Bastian approaches the two of us with a broad smile, telling us he already knew Armin was home, to which we both exchange a look and Armin gulps.
But then he motions for Armin's backpack by the door and Armin nearly melts to the floor with a sigh of relief. I almost laugh.

Frau Marlene walks out of the kitchen with a tray of refreshments balanced between her hands, sporting a very bright smile that makes even her face glow.

As the hours of late afternoon wear on, I begin to feel the first tingles of apprehension despite my texting Clara earlier that I'll be spending the rest of the day with a friend, working on a project.

The typical but never clichéd high school lie.

But it's not Clara I'm worried about. Although Elias and I aren't official nor walking the dock to the still anchored ship, I still find myself worried about his reaction.
I know he has no right to dictate me around -I would be sure to put him to his place if he tries to- but that stupid, conscientious part of me still cares.

He saved your and your sister's life. And now Clara is under his protection too. What more stanzas do you need to tack into the poem titled 'Ungrateful' ?

Frau Marlene and I are currently preparing lunch, while Herr Bastian and Armin went to do some gardening.
As Frau Marlene hands me over the tray of chicken breasts, I rinse the knife before chopping each breast carefully for the fajita.

The action brings to mind the folder saved in my father's computer, about his 'Newest pasta recipe'
I know it has something to do with the message he left me, I know it. I just need to-

"Ouch!" I yelp, the knife dropping from my hand immediately.

I hear a clatter from across the kitchen island, and I know Frau Marlene will be on me in seconds.
As I stare at the not so deep but not shallow slice in my skin, I squeeze the skin around it, watching the blood pour in a growing bubble before sliding off my hand onto the kitchen island in droplets.

Frau Marlene snatches my hand, inspecting it closely, "Go wash your hand. There's a first aid kit upstairs,"

I stop myself in time from telling her I don't need a first aid kit, recognising an opportunity when presented. I smile and nod at her, politely dipping my head to free her hand from its brushing my hair.

The second I'm out the kitchen door, I'm running up the stairs as if I'm on a timer. I slip into the first bathroom in sight, rinse my bleeding hand, and return to my task.
Pushing my father's office's door open, I switch the lights on and shut the door softly, careful not to make any noise.

I immediately head for the study, and power the PC, eyes going back and forth between the screen and the door.
Once I've gained access, I click on the folder, almost groaning aloud at being met with yet another password.

You have got to be kidding me!

This time, it's not a regular password, but a riddle;

My family's nobility is forever attributed to its stability.