Double Agent

○ thirty three ○

People file in and out of my office the whole day, brimming with questions, showing me plans, filling up their databases.

"How does it feel like to be busy, your highness," Ezra drawls sarcastically from the couch opposite the table where he types on his laptop.

For the first three hours I was fine doing the work on my own, and then I got bored and lonely so I forced him to come sit with me so I had company. He, obviously, had no choice but to agree, so he's been glued to my couch since 11am.

"It feels like I need a nap and a sushi plate," I rest my forehead down onto the brand new glass tabletop, smearing my forehead grease onto it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the right blueprint to own a glass table.

He shakes his head at my lament, drawing something from his computer into a hologram in front of him and expanding it with his fingers.

"Hi Iz, I just have something quick to check with you," a blue haired agent knocks on the door and comes in.

She looks at Ezra and her face physically sours. I've been trying my best to make sure I'm friendly with all the agents and they're comfortable around me. Ezra, on the other hand, doesn't exactly have the plaque for 'most pleasant to be around'.

He glances up from his computer, blinks once, doesn't even acknowledge the girl, and goes back to his work.

The agent scurries to the chair in front of me.

"I'm Niamh from the filing department. I just need to know where to classify this document. Would you like me to file it under the general tab for the crime firm, or under the British Mafia's, or under your father's personal file since he signed the papers?"

"I think the general tab should be fine- Wait, who signed the papers?"

"Your father, Alberto Rinaldi, right?"

My heart drops.

"No?" I utter in confusion, and Ezra's head turns immediately to face me, watching our interaction silently like a watchdog. His eyes pierce momentarily into Niamh's head, waiting for her response.

She uncovers the document from her duffel bag, flips haphazardly to the last page and shows it to me.

My father's signature is right there, in glossed letters.

My eyes flicker up to Ezra in panic and he stands up and walks over, leaning one hand on the table next to my face to read over me.

"My father never signed these papers. My mother did," I look up at him.

He frowns, leafing through the papers, inspecting the print.

"Put this through an authenticity test. Not sure why it wasn't performed earlier, and that's unacceptable, but do it. Immediately." Ezra orders.

Niamh picks up the paper and nods hurriedly, but even as she leaves the sinking feeling in my heart tells me something I'm not ready to think about yet. I pick up the phone and dial the Suspects and Perpetrators branch of HQ.

"Who's currently at the top of your list of suspects and damages owed?"

"We have a deceased Alberto Rinaldi as our main suspect. If for some reason we are unable to access his account to pay for damages, then his next of kin," he clears his throat, "Isadora Rinaldi, will have to."

"Thank you," I slam the phone down on the receiver and blow out a breath.

My head starts to hurt.

"I think I'm gonna take a walk. Be back."

The walk was meant to clear my head but the anxiety brimming in my chest overpowers my will to keep calm. I don't need a diagnostics test to tell me what I already know. My father never signed those papers. It's fake, and I have no clue who made them... especially since both sides fought for them, so even the Nostra didn't know they were fake.