Lost & Found

FRACTURED MIRRORS

The weekend came faster than I anticipated, bringing with it a mix of apprehension and determination. Alyssa and I had prepared as much as we could for our visit to Whitlock Industries, but nothing could quell the gnawing anxiety in my stomach. The stakes were higher than ever, and the closer we got to the truth, the more dangerous our investigation seemed to become.

We arrived at Whitlock Industries early on Saturday morning, the towering glass building casting long shadows across the empty streets. The structure was imposing, a modern fortress that seemed to hold countless secrets within its sleek walls.

Alyssa adjusted her bag nervously as we approached the front entrance. "Are you sure about this, Isla?"

"I have to know the truth," I replied, my voice firm despite the unease that gripped me. "My parents deserve that much."

We had decided to pose as high school students working on a project about local businesses, hoping that our innocent cover would grant us access to areas of the building that might hold the answers we were looking for.

Inside, the lobby was pristine and cold, with marble floors that reflected the harsh fluorescent lights above. A receptionist greeted us with a practiced smile. "Good morning. How can I help you?"

I stepped forward, trying to sound as confident as possible. "Hi, we're students from Blackwood High, working on a project about successful local companies. We were hoping to learn more about Whitlock Industries and maybe get a brief tour?"

The receptionist hesitated for a moment, glancing at her computer screen before nodding. "I see. I'll see if someone is available to assist you. Please have a seat."

As we waited, I couldn't help but feel like we were being watched. The sleek, modern interior of the building felt cold and impersonal, and the knowledge that this was where so many of my parents' secrets were likely hidden made my skin crawl.

After a few minutes, a man in a dark suit approached us. He was tall and well-groomed, with an air of authority that immediately put me on edge. "Good morning, I'm Mr. Dunne, head of public relations. I understand you're here for a school project?"

"Yes, thank you for seeing us on such short notice," I said, forcing a polite smile.

"Of course," he replied, his tone professional but distant. "Whitlock Industries is proud of its contributions to the community. I'm happy to give you a brief tour and answer any questions you might have."

As Mr. Dunne led us through the building, I took in every detail. The offices were immaculate, filled with sleek furniture and expensive artwork. But beneath the surface, there was a sense of something darker, something that the glossy exterior was carefully designed to hide.

We were shown the various departments—marketing, finance, research and development—but I was most interested in the executive floor, where Mr. Whitlock's office was located. When we reached that level, Mr. Dunne's demeanor became even more guarded.

"This is where Mr. Whitlock's office is located," he said, gesturing down a long, quiet hallway. "Unfortunately, Mr. Whitlock is not available today, but if you have any questions, I can try to answer them."

I knew this was my chance to dig deeper. "Can you tell us more about the history of the company? How did it start?"

Mr. Dunne's expression didn't change, but there was a slight pause before he answered. "Whitlock Industries was founded by Mr. Whitlock's father over four decades ago. It began as a small venture in real estate and gradually expanded into various sectors, including technology and finance. Mr. Whitlock has continued that legacy, leading the company to its current success."