Beneath The Orange Sunset ✔️

28

~28~

Each hour took Maxime's paranoia to some new and inconceivable height. The excruciating wait for dawn was almost over and he was prepared for the unknown.

It was finally over for Maxime. The sleepless nights and thoughts of hopelessness was cured. The suffering was apparently over for the others who were involved in this inhumane act of trying to take his life.

It will take more than just poison to end my life. Mom.

Armed with the cellphone and a single key, Maxime stepped out of his room. Dressed in an oversized dark sweats pant which swept the floor because of his lean frame, he stood in the middle of the tiled corridor. It was still dark as faint blue lights seeped through from the static windows high up the walls. To his far right, he could see Emile's room and down to the extreme end at his left was the cold hard door to his father's room.

He took his left, walking barefooted, as fast as his legs could carry him. The transparent windows located few feet above the doors reflected some remnants of lightning easing up after the heavy torrents of last night. The lights flashed at intervals as the rain had gradually subsided in the early hours.

With one swift twitch of the key in the door knob, he pushed the door open and slipped inside the room.

Maxime was bone tired as he didn't get any decent sleep that night. How could he sleep in this situation? He stood still behind the door for a moment, trying to recollect why he had come in here in the first place.

He needed to think. Anything to prove he was still a Lacroix. He was no coward so he would never run away. First of all, he can't let Fabien take over the company his father labored day and night to build. Secondly, he needed backup, evidence, anything or anybody that can take him out of this situation, no matter the cost.

He looked around the room. Turning a full three sixty degrees with his feet. From the ceiling above to the floor, the room was in a state of staleness. The air smelled of dust. The bed was bare and hard. There were thick cobwebs at the corners of the wall.

At the corner of the room, Maxime saw that the door to the closet was left ajar. He walked round the bed frame and entered the closet. The air was more humid there. There were few old suits and jackets hanging on the rails in the middle, some shoes stricken with dust was arranged on the dusty rugged floor. Maxime felt the sole of his feet clog up with each stride.

Maxime walked halfway into the closet and stopped. He tapped an iron clad box hidden safely in the wall. That was his father's personal safe. Maxime felt relieved to see that the box was still there. He rotated the lock anticlockwise once, to his surprise the safe unlocked itself. He opened it slowly.

A wave of shock passed through his body. He glared at the safe in disbelief. It was empty. The documents, hard currencies worth up to ten million, copies of original receipts of heavy purchases his father made, before he died - particularly the brand new white jeep Cherokee and other company buses - were all gone.

How come? Did dad clear the safe before he died or was it Emile?

He needed no one to tell him it was Emile's doing.

Maxime almost lost his balance as he staggered away from the closet. The humidity in the room was beginning to take on toil on his health. Streaks of sweat formed quickly in his forehead.

He reached for his pockets and brought out his phone. The piece of old device was totally worthless in his hands. He had to recover his private phone number and get a smartphone as soon as possible. He needed a lawyer. He needed all the help he can get and fast. He speed dialed number five and paced about the room waiting for an answer.