The front door opened to reveal a black-suited guard. He nodded respectfully and ushered Everett and Zahira inside. Because the house was small, it didn't take long for them to come upon an older man sitting in the living room. After the guard left, the man gave no sign he had noticed their presence.
He was languishing in an oversized chair, ankles crossed, working on a laptop. Clean-shaven and well dressed, he gave off a sense of aloofness. But despite this casual scene, the nine bodyguards posted around the room made the atmosphere seem stiff. Even the woman standing at the man's right maintained a look of disinterest, though she appeared to be observing them from beneath her lashes.
Well, this is warm and inviting, Zahira speculated ruefully. I followed this pervert-in-training for nothing.
She suddenly felt discouraged. It took her a long time to stop thinking about her real family. The orphanage had done a great job of reminding her that she was unwanted and unloved. With no other options, the streets had become her family, as dysfunctional as that was. She hadn't known what to expect upon coming here, but now she just wanted to go home.
Noticing Zahira lost in her thoughts, Everett pressed his hand to her lower back and gave a firm push, causing Zahira to stumble a half-step forward. She whipped her head to give him a wilting look. To her fury, he was unfazed and smirked down at her, eyebrows raised in communication.
"I thought you weren't scared?"
Zahira stuck out her tongue, then made a show of straightening her clothes. Chin high, she marched to the sofa across from the man and sat down. Legs and arms crossed, she refused to make eye contact with anyone, putting 'Zero' on full display. They had come looking for her, after all, so why make things easy.
Everett let out a sigh of relief as he joined her on the couch. He had noticed her crestfallen face and felt pained at her expression. Maybe because he had watched her for some time, but he found the thought of her experiencing any amount of negative emotion extremely uncomfortable.
I can't let her know, he mused with a chuckle, or she'll have me running around in circles before I know it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ambrose Rothenburg may have appeared inattentive, but he had been observing his grandaughter from the moment she entered the room. Seeing the interaction between Zahira and Everett caused a secret smile to ghost across his face. He might have been unable to protect her 13 years ago, but his foresight in pairing the two up was coming to fruition.
He also saw the look of disappointment in Zahira's eyes before she sat down. His heart ached to think of the misery she must have experienced growing up. For 13 years, she had to survive without his love and protection. Even though he had exhausted his resources, the most dangerous corner of the capital was where he found her at last.
Now that she's back, I'll protect her with my life, he vowed.
"I know people call you Zero, but may I call you Zahira?" Ambrose probed as he sat forward in his chair, placing the laptop on the table between them. His tone was mellow and sophisticated. The care in it made Zahira's ears tingle and her heart itchy.
"Up to you." Zahira's spoke with indifference as she examined the designs on the nails of her left hand. Everett cleared his throat and gave her a look of reproach. Not to be outdone, Zahira matched his gaze as they fell into another silent confrontation.
"Don't be rude."
"He was rude first."
"Try listening to what he has to say."
"Aren't I sitting here?"
"Zahira." This last look of Everett's was full of exasperation, but also a bit of indulgence as he gently said her name.
He had almost forgotten that while he had "gotten to know her" over his month-long investigating, she had no clue who he was. Given all that had happened thus far, the fact that she was even cooperating was extraordinary.
Only able to understand half of Everett's last expression, Zahira slumped in resignation. She didn't know why she bothered provoking him, only to relent in the end. How vexing, Zahira sighed. Fine, she could extend an olive branch. She straightened her posture on the couch and finally looked at the man sitting across from her.
"I don't know who Zahira is. My name is Zero. And just who the heck are you? This pervert keeps calling me his "wife." Do you know why? He isn't, like, your apprentice or something, is he?" Zahra turned and raised innocent eyes to Everett, who had a dark look on his face. She gave him her snarkiest of grins. Seeing your expression has made this trip worth it, she rejoiced.
The woman standing behind Ambrose frowned in disapproval. What an uncultured little vermin, she thought. "Just who do you think you're questioning?" she snorted. Disdain clear on her face. Ambrose turned his head slightly to give her an icy glare which caused her mouth to close with an audible clomp.
Chilled by his glare, the woman paused in shock before schooling her face to a stiff indifference. Ambrose held his glare for a moment longer before his face filled with goodnatured amusement as he turned back to Zahira.
The message was clear. No matter what, no one was to question Zahira's importance to him. If he didn't say anything, then no one could. After watching this display, Zahira felt a little less displeased. She gave the stiff-faced blond a taunting grin before turning her gaze back to her grandfather.
"Let's start from the beginning. I am your maternal grandfather, Ambrose Rothenburg. Your parents were Darius St. Clair and my daughter, Feechi Rothenburg. When you were around the age of two, they took you on an overseas vacation.
"Unfortunately, somebody close to them betrayed and killed them in a house fire. During the investigation, there was no trace of your body. I grasped on to this slim hope and used every resource in an attempt to find you. Who could've known it would take 13 years? I don't think we ever would have found you if you had not visited that hospital last year."
He then turned the laptop on the table around for her to see. On the screen was an old article about the deadly fire. But Zahira's gaze was riveted to the photo of a handsome man and gorgeous woman smiling lovingly down at a chubby-cheeked little girl. They were both embracing her in a warm hug while she smiled contently to the camera.
Zahira stared at the picture for some time. She could see so much of herself in her parents. Like the man's fiery, chestnut hair and stunning violet-grey eyes, and the woman's angelic facial features and sultry golden bronze skin. Something shifted deep within Zahira's heart. An intense wave of happiness, of completeness, vibrated from her very core. She had had parents, and they had loved her.
With his chest feeling tight and stuffy, Everett watched the myriad of emotions play across Zahira's face. Shock, recognition, and joy. Right now, she looked nothing like the dispirited girl who had tried to jump onto a busy expressway. The glow that lit her face was breathtakingly beautiful. He found it hard to breathe and vowed he would do all he could so she would always look this way.
His heart suddenly jolted with panic when he realized she had started to shake. Vast, silent tears were rolling down her cheeks now as she tried ineffectively to hold them at bay. The glow of joy was now replaced with heartbreaking grief. Swiftly, Everett reached out and wrapped her tightly in his arms as he gently tucked her head under his chin.
"It's alright, let it out. I'm here. Your family is here now," he whispered from the top of her head.
Zahira hadn't even noticed she was shaking until Everett hugged her. Unable to hold back any longer, she buried her face in his chest and cried. She cried for her dead parents, for the happy girl she should have been, and for the love she couldn't remember. She cried for everything she had to bury deep inside herself to survive.
Everett could feel as every sob racked her small body. Thirteen years of loneliness and pain could be heard in her cries. He wanted her to stop, but he knew this release was what she needed. So he rubbed her back, helplessly, as the feeling of hot needles piercing his heart took hold.
Everett and Ambrose locked eyes over Zahira's head. They shared the same look of fury and pain. An oath was communicated between them; Zahira would never suffer to this extent again. Listening to Zahira's crying caused the guards around the room to also swear the oath in their hearts. This sad little girl was their young miss, after all. Who knew what she had suffered outside their protection.
Zahira's crying became softer as she gradually cried herself to sleep. From time to time they could hear a small sniffle as if her heart hadn't stopped grieving. Ambrose motioned for Everett to pick her up as he rubbed wearily at his reddened eyes. His face looked ten years older. He had expected sadness from her, but not for it to be so gut-wrenching. He owed his granddaughter too much, it seemed.
"Take her to the spare room, Everett," He sighed. "We can talk more in the morning after we see how she feels."
Everett just nodded in response as he carried Zahira off to another part of the house. The living room fell quiet as Ambrose sat deep in thought. The woman still standing by his side waved in dismissal to the guards. After a brief pause, she moved to sit across from him in Everett's spot.
"Godfather?" she called out tentatively, concern deeply etched on her face.
When it was clear Ambrose was too deep in his thoughts to notice, the woman's concerning look quickly changed to one of scorn. She stood up abruptly and closed the laptop on the table with a snap. With a nasty snicker, she thought too low to be heard, she left the living room. As she disappeared from his sight, Ambrose lifted his head to look at the closed laptop, a cold gleam in his eye.