Chapter 39: Unlucky month

The warmth of the bath had done little to soothe the pain gripping my body, but at least I felt cleaner. Wrapping myself in a white towel, I stepped out of the bathroom, steam following me like an unwanted guest. My hair was bundled in its own mini towel, though a few wet strands escaped, clinging to my neck and shoulders. Water droplets trailed down my skin, leaving faint marks on the floor as I walked.

I rummaged through my closet for something comfortable and functional—a pair of high-waisted black leggings and a loose beige sweater. After changing, I tossed the damp towel into the laundry basket and made my way to my desk to rummage for something to eat.

I wasn't going downstairs.

The first drawer had exactly what I was looking for: a chocolate bar. I unwrapped it with more force than necessary and took a big bite, the sweetness momentarily distracting me from the mess my life had become.

Booting up my Mac, I clicked around to see what could be salvaged from the wreckage of losing my phone. My first stop was Aura—always my first priority. I sent a quick message to the developer working on the app. It had been days, and I needed updates, especially now that everything was falling apart.

Imagine all these happening when I'd already made plans to attend at least two of straykids dominATE tour concerts.

Next, I checked on my goods. Luckily, they’d passed the customs check and were almost at their destination. That little success eased the storm in my head.

The plan to make the west wing as a temporary warehouse was still in motion. It was a good plan, but I knew I'd have to fight for it later. My stepfather had already dismissed the idea with a flat-out "no," and my mother would obviously side with him just to spite me.

Anything to make me regret my decision to take away her power over Aura.

I kept clicking through apps, installing a few, and accounts, trying to log in wherever possible. A few worked, and the ones that didn’t only deepened my frustration. Not everything had been backed up to the cloud, and the more I thought about it, the more sour I felt.

The more I tried and failed, the stronger the urge became to hurl the Mac against the wall. I clenched my jaw, gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles ached.

Breathe, I told myself. It’s not the laptop's fault.

I reached up to run my fingers through my hair, only to feel the towel still tightly wrapped around it. Sighing, I pushed away from the desk and walked over to the vanity. I unwrapped the towel and plugged in the hair dryer, flipping it on.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts, and before I could respond, the lock clicked, and was pushed open. Tiffany stepped in, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of hot chocolate, a perfectly golden croissant, and—most importantly—the file and flash drive I’d asked for.

Still holding the dryer, I watched as she placed the tray on a side table and carried the file and flash drive to my desk.

“This is just to hold you over until lunch is ready, Miss.” she explained. “It might take a while, so I wanted to know if you’ll have the same lunch as everyone else or something different.”

“As long as it’s not mac and cheese or casserole, I’ll eat whatever.”

She nodded, giving me a small bow before heading for the door. As she left, she locked it behind her, taking the spare key with her. She was smart, I'd give her that. No one in this house respected boundaries, but at least she knew better than to risk an uninvited guest barging in.

I glanced at the tray, the chocolate tea was steaming invitingly, but my eyes shifted to the file on my desk. That would come later. I needed to focus on finishing what I’d started.

The slowness of the dryer wasn’t cutting it anymore. Impatient and tired of wasting time, I cranked the setting to high, letting the warm air whip through my hair. It wasn’t the most comfortable sensation, but at least it would be faster. I kept running my fingers through the strands, guiding the dryer as it blasted away the moisture.

When my hair was finally dry enough, I clicked the dryer off and tossed it onto the vanity. The croissant on the tray caught my eye, and I reached for it. It was still warm, the flaky layers practically melting in my mouth. I washed it down with the chocolate tea, which wasn’t as hot as before but still soothing enough to ease some of the heaviness gripping my chest.

With the snack out of the way, I returned to my desk, dragging the chair closer. The Nancy situation could wait; that particular mess wasn’t going anywhere. All what I needed to put my attention on was finding a way to retrieve what I could from the dark abyss left by my missing phone.

The process was infuriating. Every time I managed to log into an account, there were few more I couldn’t access. Some of my files, messages, and notes were completely gone, lost in the void of poor cloud management.

I groaned, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my temples. This wasn’t working.

Deciding to switch gears, I grabbed the flash drive. Nancy’s incest scandal wasn’t exactly my top priority, but it was something I could handle while waiting to hear back from the developers working on Aura’s app.

Sliding the flash drive into the Mac, I waited for the files to load. The screen flickered, and a loading bar appeared. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk as I watched it crawl toward completion.

And then, of course, it stopped.

Why wouldn't it! I mean, it's my unlucky month and everything is supposed to irk me, right?

Trust me, I've never been so close to snapping and setting the house on fire.

A pop-up box appeared, asking for a password.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath, and slumpee back against the chair.

Tiffany hadn’t mentioned a password. Or maybe she had and I’d been too distracted to catch it. Either way, she hadn’t written it down or included it with the file.

Great. Just perfect. Awesome.

*¡Qué bien!*

I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment and pressing my fingers to my temples again. This was exactly the kind of thing I didn’t need right now. The video was probably just sitting there, loaded with everything I’d asked for, but locked away behind a wall of digits I. Didn’t. Fucking. have!

I debated texting Tiffany to just come back, but the thought of explaining her oversight—and my growing irritation—felt like more effort than it was worth at the moment. Besides, the phone held as much importance as a *sex tape*. So I just stared at the screen, as if my willpower could magically reveal the password.

Yeah, no such luck.