Matilda Garcia is married to one of the most established lawyers and land owners in Trinidad, and she cannot be more happier. Until, an object from her past suddenly appears in her life which leads to solve the mystery of her dead daughter, and circ...
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My eyes were bulging out of their sockets. I wanted to convince myself that I was dreaming, but there was Ariel holding Henry’s upraised arm. He snapped his head around to face her. His body was getting hot, and I could see the hairs on his neck growing erect. Ariel was unaffected by this. Her face looked as confident as ever.
“I’d advise to you to let go of my friend,” she said, her voice dripping with poison. A few gasps erupted from the staff. I was just as surprised as they were.
“How dare you la-” he attempted to say. Ariel stopped him.
“Don’t. I’ve spent my entire life lifting weights and scrubbing floors. I’m than capable of kicking your ass right here and now.”
Henry’s grip on my arm loosened. I used this as an opportunity to free myself from his grasp. His face expression told me that he was still shocked about this. Ariel nodded, signalling me to leave. I did just that.
I ran up the stairs, and then to my room. My heart was almost quivering in my chest. It hurt like hell, but I ignored the pain. Once I was in the room, I slammed the door, and immediately opened the bedside table draw. I reached into the draw to feel the familiar coolness of the diary’s leather cover.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I felt only dry air.
The diary was gone.
Someone cleared there throat behind me. I turned around. Henry leaned against the door frame with one of his arms akimbo. His lips wore an amused smirk. With his other hand he clutched a certain burgundy book. My fists clenched in anger. Was this why he insulted me in front of the staff and my friends? And how dare he touch my stuff?
“Are you looking for this?” he asked, still maintaining his cocky smile. I opened my mouth to answer, “Yes. Got a problem with it?” but instead, I said, “No. I’ve never seen that book before in my life.”
His grin grew wider as if he was pleased with my blatant lie. The thought scared me. Then he opened the book to what seemed like the first page. I watched the movement of his pupils attentively as he skimmed over the page.
When he was done, he looked up and said, “I thought I told you to throw this away years ago.” I gulped. Actually, I did throw the diary away. However, it was done on my own initiative in order to mend my broken heart, and not his selfish orders.
“Yes, but I kept it to remember her by,” I replied very quickly, “Now give it back.”
To my surprise, he tossed the book over to me, saying that he didn’t need it to begin with, and left the room. I ran my hand over the cover as if to verify its existence. When I was sure that it was real, I opened it and flipped the pages.
