"They were murdered," Orlee said, her eyes reddening with fury. In an impassive tone, she snapped, "I won't ask how you know about the year, but I'd appreciate it if you stopped meddling in this matter."
Orlee got out of the car and went inside, unaware of how much she had hurt her sister. Once inside the house, she found her father sitting in front of the television, watching the news.
"In my study, now," he said. Orlee was about to head to her room but halted when she heard her father's command. The fierce woman transformed into a docile girl as she followed him to the study. They both entered, her father taking a seat while she stood in front of him, looking obedient and guilty, her gaze fixed on the floor.
"I'm not sure where you've been, Orlee," the man in his late forties began, his eyes studying his daughter. "If this is about your parents, I want to help you. You know how dangerous this situation is," he pleaded with his eyes.
The obedient girl who had always been respectful suddenly raised her voice. "Don't you dare, Mr. Brent!"
Mason Brent was taken aback and saddened by her outburst, a painful reminder of how his adopted daughter still struggled to see him as a father figure. Orlee had begun referring to him as "father" in front of Crystal, who had a strong reaction to her not doing so. But when they were alone, Orlee often put up emotional barriers.
Realizing her mistake, Orlee saw how her outburst had upset Mr. Brent. She struggled to understand that his sadness was not just about her yelling but about the words she used. She knew she had overreacted, especially when he was only trying to offer his help.
"I'm sorry, Mason," Orlee said, apologizing for her behavior.
"I do not want any Brent's intervention in this matter," she asserted with an authority that brooked no argument.
Unable to endure the look of concern from the older man any longer, Orlee sighed, casting her gaze downward at her feet, and murmured, "I don't want Crystal to experience the same pain that I've been through."
"And most definitely, I do not want to lose my family again." Orlee looked up with teary eyes, a sight that tugged at Mason's heart. He immediately stood up, walked over to his daughter, and enveloped her in a bear hug. He couldn't forget the state she had been in when he found her seven years ago—helpless and destitute on the streets.
"Alright, I'm sorry," Mason said. "Crystal and I won't intrude unless you're in immediate danger. That's final." He gently patted her head. When he noticed his daughter trying to protest, he gave her a stern look that silenced her immediately.
"Do you know who we're hunting down tomorrow?" Orlee began to think of ways to persuade Mason, but he quickly shifted the topic with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Realizing that persuading him was futile when it came to her safety, she let go of the idea.
"Who are those pitiful souls?" Orlee asked with the same dangerous glint in her eyes, showing no trace of sympathy for the people they were about to hunt.
"Mercy Enterprises," Mason said, placing a protocol on his desk. He explained the plan in detail, leaving Orlee astonished by its advanced and tactical nature.
"I swear on my tequila, this plan can't be yours," Orlee said, convinced that Mason couldn't be the mastermind behind it. She asked curiously, "Now, who is the genius behind this?"
"That devil of a sister of yours is no joke! She's far more intelligent than we give her credit for," Mason said with a proud smile as he walked over to the window, gazing out. Orlee was left stunned by his revelation.
"Holy cheese and crackers!" Orlee exclaimed, her face lighting up with a proud and happy smile. "Did she, really? This is amazing! And have you seen the timeline for our mission? One month. One Crappit whole month!" Orlee rambled on proudly, still processing the impressive details she had just learned.
Mason chuckled as he looked back at his daughter, Orlee, who was beaming with pride for her little sister, Crystal.
"Mason?" Orlee suddenly asked, her expression turning puzzled as she examined the plan. Mason tilted his head, looking at her with a questioning gaze.
"Crystal is incredibly intelligent, unlike you," Orlee laughed, noticing Mason's mockingly disapproving glare. She continued, "To grasp computer systems and their complexities at such a young age—I'm curious where she got those genes."
"Of course, from me!" Mason shot a playful glare at Orlee. She rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced by his boastful claim.
"Looks? Sure. Intelligence? Absolutely fudging not," Orlee quipped, raising an eyebrow as if expecting a rebuttal. Mason rolled his eyes at her blunt yet accurate comment and sighed dramatically.
"Unfortunately, she didn't inherit her smarts from me, though if she had, she'd be even more brilliant," Mason said with a smug smile. Orlee, uninterested, was inspecting her nails, causing Mason's smile to fade.
"Alright, intelligence isn't my strongest suit," Mason grumbled. His expression softened as he remembered his late wife. "But Camilla's was."
"She was one of the finest doctors in the country, a specialist in Computational Neuroscience. Her research was groundbreaking, and she seized the greatest opportunities available," Mason said, his voice filled with pride.
Orlee's eyes widened in surprise. She had never heard Mason speak so warmly about Camilla, not even in conversations with his own daughter, Crystal. The mention of Camilla piqued her interest, and she listened intently, her ears perked up in curiosity.
"She was chosen for a project requiring intense research, so she spent countless hours in the lab, day and night. Despite the stress, she was deeply passionate about her work. I should have stopped her, made her quit when I saw how consumed she was by it," Mason's voice trembled with a mix of rage and regret. Orlee, taken aback by the intensity of his emotions, quickly moved to his side and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"But when I saw how much her work made her happy and how much she was accomplishing for us, for Crystal, I couldn't bring myself to stop her. If only I had made her quit, maybe she wouldn't have been..."
'Killed.'
He struggled to say that out but couldn't.
"Maybe she would be alive, brightening our lives with her smile every day, and not..."
'...buried in an unknown place after being cruelly murdered.'
"They say she was bribed and made a terrible mistake that led to the deaths of herself and her colleagues, ruining the project." Mason laughed bitterly at his own words, sending chills down Orlee's spine.
"Ironic, isn't it?" Mason said, turning around with red-rimmed eyes. "The top performer, who astounded everyone with her moral and professional integrity despite enduring multiple rounds of brutal torture, was ultimately swayed by a baseless threat and a mere million dollars." Orlee watched as Mason scoffed with derision.
As Orlee was about to say something, a sudden knock on the door interrupted her. Both Mason and Orlee turned to see Crystal standing in the doorway.
"Dad! You can't keep lecturing her over something as trivial as this. Let her enjoy her twenties; otherwise, she'll end up lamenting about her lost youth like you do" Crystal said with a sheepish laugh, bracing herself for her father's sharp gaze at her bold remarks.
"I'm not as old as you make me out to be. I just turned 49 five years ago," Mason protested with a mockingly high-pitched voice, like an elderly lady.
Orlee and Crystal couldn't help but laugh at their father's amusing attempt to downplay his age by avoiding the exact number.
"To-mah-toe, to-may-toe," they said in unison, bursting into laughter as they watched their dad roll his eyes and throw up his hands in exasperation, clearly fed up with their never-ending debate.
Though Mason was outwardly annoyed, a subtle smile tugged at his lips as he watched his daughters laugh heartily. The pure, unfiltered joy on their faces was a sight he treasured deeply. He hoped that their future would be filled with such genuine moments of happiness, wishing that this image of their carefree laughter would stay with him forever.
Mason couldn't help but feel that God had been exceptionally harsh to his daughters, placing them in such formidable challenges at such a young age. He reflected on how an adult like himself would likely stand no chance of surviving such trials. Yet, here he was, watching his two daughters—who had endured so much and were bracing for an impending storm—demonstrate incredible strength and resolve. His heart swelled with pride as he grinned from ear to ear, marveling at their courage and determination.
"Earth to Dad." Orlee waved a hand in front of Mason, pulling him out of his reverie. "Did you both have dinner already?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," they answered in unison.
"Alright, let's all get some sleep instead of working late into the night—especially you, Dad." Orlee pointed a finger at Mason, who smiled sheepishly.
"Now, now, we wouldn't want you getting any older than you already are," Orlee teased with a wicked grin as Mason, turning red with mock indignation, responded in a joking manner.
"That's a low blow, my dear daughter," Mason said, poking Orlee's forehead with a dramatic flair to emphasize their playful banter.
"Sure, Dad. I'm sure you wouldn't mind. Good night!" Orlee rolled her eyes, planted a kiss on his cheek, and then turned to leave.
After Orlee left, Mason and Crystal shared a chuckle at her expense. Suddenly, a fleeting memory crossed Crystal's mind, casting a shadow of sadness over her face. She quickly shook off the melancholy, bid Mason good night, and left the study.
With a faint smile lingering on his lips, Mason approached his desk and opened a drawer. Inside, he found a photo frame featuring a young, beautiful woman in her late twenties, her face illuminated with a joyful smile as she gazed at her belly. She wore a black skirt that reached her knees and a crop top that exposed her pregnant belly, clearly indicating she was in the latter stages of her second trimester. The picture radiated such happiness that it was impossible to guess the tragic events that followed. Her smile, captured so vividly, seemed to hold an infectious joy that made the viewer forget any sorrow behind the scene.
"How cruel is it that I can't even speak of you to your own blood? I'm truly sorry, Camilla." He gazed at the photo for a moment, then carefully placed the frame back in the drawer. With a heavy heart, he left the study, his face marked by a deep sense of sorrow.