Marry me

Chapter Twenty-Four.

The human brain is amazing. It's funny how it works all day every day for twenty-four hours but stops only when we're taking a test, speaking to someone attractive, or receiving bad news.

I swear my brain stopped processing thoughts for the next few minutes after the interview guy dropped the bombshell. Time whizzed past my head as the other lady, Megan, ushered me out of the conference room with a sour look on her face. I couldn't blame her, honestly. That was the effect Mr. Trevelyan had on people. The poor woman hadn't even met him yet and he was already ruining her mood.

Mr. Trevelyan was not at the lobby of Topperstone Inc., like I had thought. He was lucky because, in that state of mind, I don't know what I would have done if I saw him.

Clawing at his eyeballs would have been a great option though.

A black Range Rover was parked outside the building with two tall men in black suits standing guard outside it, one of which was talking to Jasmine. The other man opened the passenger door as soon as I stepped out of the building, gesturing for me to enter.

I could've done a lot of things in disagreement with that.

Hell, I could've gone back into the building to continue the interview.

But I nodded stiffly and went straight into the car.

Stupid.

The man shut the door and jogged to the driver's seat. I caught his expression in the rearview mirror as he straightened up and buckled his seatbelt. I gave him a nod, signaling that I was ready to go.

And he started the ignition and drove off, leaving my dreams behind in the dust.

"Isn't the other guy coming along?" I said, referring to the man who I had seen talking with Jasmine earlier.

The driver replied without hesitation, "No, Mrs. Trevelyan-"

"Don't call me that."

"Yes, Miss." He nodded briskly and continued driving. I let out a heavy sigh and left myself to my thoughts.

I was still in the process of getting comfortable with the fact that I was not going to get interviewed when the car came to a halt in front of the mansion.

"Well, it's now or never, Isabelle," I muttered under my breath, making a move to open the car door. "He's home, isn't he?" I asked out loud.

The driver guy bobbed his head, "Yes."

"Thanks." I could feel my stress levels rising as I hopped out of the car. I hadn't even talked to him yet and I could already sense a migraine setting in.

*

My grip on the plastic handle of the utensil tightened as I marched away from the kitchen with one destination in mind. "It's now or never," I chanted, again and again, holding the knife tighter.

I had one goal and it was to murder Mr. Trevelyan.

And to change my identity afterward, of course.

My feet took me up the glass spiral staircase, as silent as the wind, and my eyes caught Stan in the corner, having lunch and watching TV, I think. He didn't seem to notice the item in my hand. Not that I cared, actually.

I got to the front of the door of the room and my fist went up and slammed straight into the polished wood.

But then I remembered that knocking would only warn him that I was around.