Secrets of the Solomons

7. Fiona:

*4th January, 2024*

I'm here. In France, sitting at the edge of a bridge. My car is parked at the side. My legs are dangling. The feeling is surreal and numbs my mind. There is nothing beneath my legs but a dizzying drop down to the river. The cool, thin air rushes past my face, carrying the scent of open fields and distant pine trees. I can hear the gentle flow of the river below, soothing my racing thoughts. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the picturesque landscape around me. As I watch the colors of the sky change, I feel a sense of peace wash over me, grateful for this moment of solitude and beauty in the midst of chaos. The sound of birds chirping in the distance adds to the tranquility of the scene.

It's been a few months since what I suppose was my last mission. I skipped school for a few months on leave. I traveled alone in unknown places, walking past unknown people. The sense of freedom and exploration has been refreshing, allowing me to clear my mind and rediscover myself. As the day fades into night, I am reminded of the vastness of the world and the endless possibilities that lie ahead. Perhaps I found peace. But the back of my mind keeps thinking and thinking. Despite the peace and tranquility I feel in this moment, there is a nagging feeling of uncertainty that lingers. It's as if the weight of my responsibilities and unanswered questions are waiting for me just beyond the horizon.

However, I didn't come all the way to France for an adventure. It's time I get back to my responsibilities. It's been a long break for me.

The car drive to my grandpa's large castle-like compound from the Viaduc de Millau isn't far. His home stands tall, a symbol of tradition and family history. It was here when the family truly started their business. I park at the front and walk in. Greeted by his maids, they inform me that Grandfather will be out of bed soon and have instructed me to wait in the library. As I settle into a plush armchair, surrounded by shelves of ancient books, I can't help but feel a sense of nostalgia for my childhood visits to this grand estate. The scent of old leather and mahogany fills the room, bringing back memories of storytelling by the fireplace on cold winter nights.

I walk around the library and notice the intricate details of the woodwork and the faded portraits hanging on the walls. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner adds to the ambiance, making me feel like I've stepped back in time to a bygone era. The books themselves seem to whisper stories of centuries past, inviting me to lose myself in their pages and escape reality for a while. As I reach out to touch the worn spines, I can almost hear the echoes of laughter and conversation that once filled this room, making me long for a simpler time when life moved at a slower pace.

But there was a new book. I spent most of my childhood in France under my grandmother's care. I read all the books here. Never noticed this book. It was tucked away in a corner; its cover faded and pages yellowed with age. Curiosity piqued. I pulled it from the shelf; it moved but wouldn't come out. Then I heard gears moving, and the shelf moved. Revealing a hidden room. A whole room I never discovered all the time I spent here. It's dimly lit, but there's a sense of uncertainty. The back of my mind is telling me what I'm about to uncover will change everything I know about myself and my life.

*30 minutes later*

I'm shaking. Tremendously shaking. From anger or fear, I can't quite tell. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my hands are clenched into fists. The air feels heavy, making it hard to breathe. I try to take deep breaths to calm myself down, but it feels like an impossible task. My mind is racing with thoughts and emotions, making it difficult to focus on anything else. My hands clutch onto the arms of the chair.

This was all a game. I was the pawn in the game I thought I was playing. But Grandfather was always there, two steps ahead. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and a sense of betrayal washes over me. I can't believe I fell for his manipulative tactics, and now I'm left feeling powerless and defeated. It's clear now that I was never in control, and the consequences of my actions are staring me in the face.

I feel powerless. I feel angry. I feel scared and ravenous for revenge. My revenge was never my plan. He had planned it all along. I was just a pawn to kill of the family's enemies and useless pawns. I never saw it coming, but now that I do, I can't help but feel a mix of emotions. The anger and betrayal fuel my desire for justice, but the fear of what he's capable of leaves me paralyzed.

What if this plan for revenge ends up with my loved ones being dead? I will never let that happen. I must lure him. I must plan so meticulously he never saw it coming. I must outsmart him and turn the tables, making sure that he faces the consequences of his actions. It's time for me to take control and ensure that justice is served, no matter what it takes.

For now I must pretend I know nothing. I must let this meeting go on smoothly and compose myself. I must stay calm and collected, masking my true intentions until the perfect moment to strike. I will bide my time and wait for the opportune moment to make my move, ensuring that he never suspects a thing. When I strike, he won't know what hit him.