Chapter 50 Exposed
VICTORIA
Panic rushed in as I stared at the message that my dad had sent to me.
“Are you okay? You look pale," Mr Thompson said as he roared the engine to life.
“I'm… I'm fine,” I stuttered and brushed my hair back, gulping in fear.
What if he had found out? There was no way he would find out!
I shook my head, whispering assuring words to myself.
“Victoria?" He called and I jerked my head up, slipping out of my thoughts.
He had stopped the car now, his eyes fixed on me, with worry darting across his face.
“What exactly is wrong with you? You're behaving strangely," he asked.
"Nothing,” I rasped out and forced a grin onto my face, covering up my anxiety with a fake chuckle.
Mr Thompson didn't seem to buy the grin and chuckle.
“You're lying, stop with the pretense," he huffed, slowly getting irritated with my silence.
I breathed out and looked out of the window, clutching my phone tightly.
“My dad wants me in his place right now. He sounds quite pissed," I muttered.
Mr Thompson sighed loudly and gripped the wheel tighter.
“Do you think he received a death threat from him?" Mr Thompson asked.
I shook my head, facing him again.
“No, I…” I trailed when I remembered that this was supposed to be a secret.
His eyes were still fixed on me, brows raised in question. He knew I was hiding something from him.
“I don't know, I hope not," I replied, trying to sound as convincing as possible.
My trick seemed to work as he fired up the engine again and drove off.
“So, I'm taking you to your father's house?" He asked as he rode.
"Yes,” I nodded.
He sighed and let the silence take over the atmosphere again.
The thoughts in my head switched from Mr Thompson and me, to my father and that man's relationship with my mother.
I hoped Mr Thompson's guess didn't turn out to be true. I hoped he hadn't been threatened because if he was threatened, then it meant one thing– He would never let me work as a detective.
I knew that was what Mr Thompson feared too. Every time I glanced at him, his hand would grip the wheel tighter, and his face would constrict.
After everything he did to convince my father to let me chase my dreams, a fuckass serial killer would have to ruin it.
This was just a proof. A proof that I was a big threat to the serial killer.
My belly knotted at the thought, and I gripped the handrest. I needed to be more careful now because he would attack me fiercely, as he had always done.
“I'll be heading back to the CID. We need to confirm the results of the blades and finger so we can officially declare him s serial killer and a wanted criminal,” Mr Thompson explained as he neared the Villa.
“I will join you all tomorrow. I'm sorry I had to skip work today," I said.
He huffed loudly and shook his head.
“You helped us a lot. You turned out to be more useful than we who sit at work all day," he said, and brushed my hair back.
I shuddered at his touch and rubbed my arms, feeling the fluttering butterflies in my belly again.
When he parked in the garage, he swung his head in my direction, his eyes dimming.
“Report to me on what's going on, okay?" He said.
"Yes, I will,” I said and unclipped the seatbelt while keeping my eyes on him.
I wanted to kiss him but I stopped myself and pulled the door open.
I waved, filled with disappointment as he drove out of the Villa.
I sighed loudly when I turned to face the house.
“Oh, God, I hope it's nothing serious," I whispered as I made my way to the entrance of the house.
I placed a soft knock on the door and stepped back when a maid opened the door.
“Welcome ma'am," she bowed and stepped out of the way.
I nodded at her and walked in, pulling a false smile on my face to cover up the anxiety that I was drowning in.
“The master is in the garden," she announced when I began to take the stairs.
“Oh, okay," I muttered and walked out of the building, heading to the garden where he was.
My heart gave a wild leap when my eyes fell on him. He was seated at one of the tables at the far end of the garden, his eyes fixed on a tab as he twirled a glass of wine in his hand.
I gulped hard and rubbed my hands together before walking closer to where he sat.
The scent of lilac, roses, and lavender filled the air and replaced every trace of the scent that filled my nose back in that cursed cabin.
“Hello, Dad!" My voice trembled as I greeted.
He raised his head in my direction, and I was sure I saw anger flash across his eyes when they fell on me.
He grunted and focused on the tab on the table again.
I needed no one to tell me that I was in deep trouble.
I quickened my pace and lowered my head when I got to where he sat.
“Take a seat," he waved to the chair across his.
I hesitantly pulled the chair back and slumped in, feeling sweat break out on my back.
He remained silent and focused on whatever he was doing on the tab.
My patience was beginning to wear out and the anxiety only heightened with the seconds that ticked by.
“Father?" I called when I couldn't take in the silence anymore.
He looked up at me again then back at the tab. The anxiety and fear were slowly getting replaced with irritation.
“You called for me? Is anything the matter? Did something happen at the company?" I questioned, hoping he would give me an answer to one.
He sighed, picked up his phone, and dialed a number.
“Get the wine," he instructed the staff, and dropped the phone.
I waited patiently, the nervousness easing off.
If he called for wine then it wouldn't be that serious.
The staff arrived soon with the bottle of wine and glasses, then dropped them on the table.
He bowed and left as quietly as he came.
“Let me…”
My father took the bottle before I could and began to fill the glasses.
I gulped hard and sat back in my seat, rubbing my cold hand against my pants.
“Can you guess why I called you?” He asked as he handed me a glass of wine.
My throat knotted, and my grip around the glass tightened.
“No, I can't," I replied, trying to sound as calm as possible.
He nodded and sipped the wine in his glass, waving his hand for me to do the same.
I slowly raised the glass and sipped the wine. It tasted like water instead of the cherry flavor that always filled one's mouth.
“You know I always leave my things open for everyone…”
I choked on the wine and splashed it on my shirt when he began to speak.
I sprang up, eyes as wide as saucers, chest rising and falling in shock.
My belly twisted in horror when the realization hit me.
He casually handed me a napkin and waved at the chair, acting as if nothing had happened.
“Sit!"
I obeyed and sat down, gripping my trembling hands together.
“Of everyone, it had to be you? You…” he paused and pointed at me, anger blazing in his eyes.
“You went into my room and searched it. Did you think I'll be stupid enough to make myself that vulnerable?" He asked and my throat knotted.
He pushed the tab towards me and tapped the play button.
My heart was crushed, and embarrassment flooded through me as I watched the video of me sneaking around his room being played on the tablet. I never knew he had CCTV cameras installed in his room.
“I'm sorry, father,” I whispered, filled with guilt and shame.
He sighed and shook his head in disappointment.
“Why? What made you stoop that low?" He asked.
I parted my lips but slammed them shut again. The CCTV didn't capture me taking the key from the book. I could have easily lied my way out, but I didn't.
I would answer his questions truthfully and in return, he would have to answer mine.
“The diary,” I blurted out.
"What?” he tilted his head to the side, his eyes dimming.
I raised my head and stared right into his eyes.
“The dairy. I took Mom's diary."