Lilly paced around her father's study, her frustration growing. She had scoured the entire house, searching for his laptop. It was the logical place to start if she was going to find out what was on the flash drive. But it was nowhere to be found—not in his office, not in the living room, and not even in his bedroom. She racked her brain, wondering if maybe he had taken it for repairs. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, a sense of unease crept in. Her father was meticulous about his work and rarely let anyone touch his electronics. He never allows his gadget to breakdown, he always pays an engineer to check them everymonth and he helps him change anyone that needs repair. It just didn't add up.
The investigative instinct within her buzzed like an alarm, her mind racing with questions. She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. There was a distinct sense of foul play, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. Her father had always been a private man, but his sudden death and the strange circumstances around it felt more than coincidental.
Her gaze fell back to the small flash drive in her hand. She turned it over repeatedly, her thumb tracing its edges as she tried to connect the dots. It was as though the tiny device was the missing piece of a puzzle she hadn't yet figured out. "Could this really be the key to whatever happened?" she wondered, feeling a surge of determination mix with the rawness of her grief.
Clenching the drive tightly, Lilly grabbed her car keys from the side table and glanced back at the house as if telling all the emotions "I am coming back ". As she gently locked the door behind her, she felt a pang of regret wash over her—so many memories lingered in the air, some happy, some filled with pain. She wished she had made more of an effort to reconnect with her father, especially before it was too late. Now, with the house standing empty behind her, it felt as though her regrets echoed through its halls.
As she walked to her car, the memories followed her. They slipped into her thoughts like shadows, uninvited and impossible to ignore—reminders of the difficult conversations, the distance that had grown between them, and the moments she wished she could take back. But she had no time to wallow. The questions weighed heavier than her sadness, pushing her forward.
The drive was smooth, with no traffic to slow her down. She checked the dashboard clock—9:30 p.m How had the time flown by so quickly? It felt like only minutes ago that she had received the call about her father's death. Now she was speeding down the road, clutching a flash drive that seemed to hold more questions than answers. As she headed toward her apartment , Lilly's resolve hardened. If the drive contained any clues, she was determined to uncover them.
Lilly's mind raced as she drove back to her apartment, the flash drive burning a hole in her pocket. She felt drained—emotionally and physically—but her curiosity wouldn't allow her to rest. She had to know what was on that drive. The thought of her father using a hidden flash drive to keep information suggested that whatever it contained was important, maybe even dangerous.
She reached her apartment, unlocked the door, and headed straight to her desk, where her laptop sat. Though exhaustion tugged at her, she flicked it on and waited for the screen to light up. As soon as it did, she plugged in the flash drive and opened the file directory. But instead of finding a list of documents, a password prompt appeared. The files were encrypted, requiring a numerical code to unlock them.
"Of course," she muttered to herself, leaning back in her chair.
She began trying every important number she could think of: her father's birthday, her mother's birthday, even her parents' wedding anniversary. None of them worked. Frustration set in, but she wasn't ready to give up. She hesitated, then typed in her own birthday, not expecting much. To her surprise, the screen blinked, and the files opened.
Lilly's heart skipped a beat. Her father had used her birthday as the code. She stared at the screen, a mix of shock and emotion washing over her. She hadn't thought he would still value her birthday enough to make it a key to anything she thought he hated her for her career choice. If her birthday was the password, then perhaps this information was meant for her all along.
She scrolled through the files, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw the first one: a video, titled simply with her name. She swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in her throat, and clicked to play it.
The screen filled with an image of her father, sitting in his study. He wore a small, weary smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and there was a trace of an emotion she couldn't place—something deeper, perhaps a hint of fear or regret. He took a breath before speaking.
"Lilly, if you're watching this, it means I am dead," he began, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable weight. "I want you to know that I am sorry for trying to dictate your life. I'm sorry for not handling things more maturely, and I want you to know that I am incredibly proud of the woman you've become. The things you've achieved…" He paused, chuckling softly, though the sound was bittersweet. "You're more stubborn than I ever was—more headstrong. That's why you've thrived in your career, my princess."
His tone grew more serious, the unrecognised emotions becoming visible now looks more like anxiety and fear, he continued. "I need to ask you for something. Don't let the company slip away in my absence. I know it's not your passion, and I wouldn't expect you to run it forever. But before you make any decisions about selling your shares, help me solve this puzzle. There's something strange going on, something big. I don't have all the answers, but I've uncovered enough to make me paranoid. There's a file on this drive—a financial record of the company. The code for it is your favorite phrase from your favorite childhood Sunday school song."
He took a deep breath, his eyes softening as he looked into the camera. "I'm proud of you, Lilly. Always remember that. I love you."
The video ended, leaving Lilly staring at the blank screen. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her chest tight with grief and a sense of loss so sharp it felt like a fresh wound. It was as if she was hearing about his death all over again. For a moment, she just sat there, letting the tears flow freely.
Eventually, she wiped her eyes and returned to the list of files. She typed in the words, "Let it shine"—the simple phrase from her favorite Sunday school song. The next file unlocked. Her hands trembled as she began to open the documents, her tears blurring the screen, but she could still make out the contents.
As she scanned through the financial records, something strange caught her eye: large sums of money moving in and out of the company's accounts, disappearing and then returning weeks later, as if they'd never left. The transactions were frequent and irregular, raising immediate red flags in her mind. "Could this be money laundering?" she whispered to herself, her brow furrowing as she matched some of the suspicious dates with recent events.
A sense of dread settled over her. Something was terribly wrong, and it seemed to have consumed her father before it finally took his life. Lilly took a deep breath, the weight of her resolve settling in. Whatever this was, she would get to the bottom of it. She swore on her parents' spirits that she wouldn't rest until she uncovered the truth.
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