The midday sun reflected on her hair, turning her golden locks into a walking halo of light. As she strutted into the room, the glinting of steel was the only indication of the stunning weapons that lined every inch of her tight bodysuit, making her into a living arsenal, and her eyes narrowed as if daring anyone to question her dark appearance. That was Vera. The stunning, heartless Vera.
I sat, making a show of arranging my suit, one leg lifted over the other in a show of indifference, and tilted my lips upward into an innocent smile. Well, smirk. I knew how I looked, with my golden locks and arrogant smile. A spoiled girl with an oversized ego. But the extravagant exterior contrasted with the dark thoughts playing through my mind. Innocent indeed.Adding an edge to my smile, I pointed it toward the men in black currently making themselves at home. Mine. My house, I remind myself. With my own blood, money and sweat coating every penny put into this mansion. The painting of it inside the huge sitting room didn’t give enough credit to the extravagant dome.With the sun’s rays currently reflecting into the peak, it was only a shadow of the absolute artistry spiralling beneath it with contrasting hues of gold, silver, and midnight black.Outside, cheerful people passed by, ogling the hulking beauty, with awe lining their features and without a single suspicion of what dark dealings were taking place inside. Some were disguised as others, and some concealed themselves to look less than they were, and it made me smile in savage satisfaction. I wasn’t the only one with a mask on.A bright yellow balloon popped into my line of sight, startling me from my bitter thoughts. The girl clutching it had ice cream smeared on her wide-smiling mouth, untainted by the cruel world around her. My yearning gaze and melancholy smile turned sour as it made me think of a girl that once was. A girl that could have been. A life that I could be living…. but was not. This was my life. And I would make sure it stayed that way.“I’ll go get you some cake to go along with that tea,” I exclaimed, the first words I’d spoken since the start of this supposed ‘meeting’. The men gave me a passing glance, their sharp-toothed smiles doing nothing to hide their wicked minds. But I ducked my head to hide my smile. Always underestimating, these men. They had obviously come for something totally different than a social visit. Stalking right past the kitchen, I stopped in front of the wooden antique mirror to adjust my various weapons, tilting my chin so the light from the window turned my orbs into twin flames of swirling, raging emotion, contrasting heavily with my granite-hewn features.Chin up.Head lifted.Back straight.I am Vera Allen, and I will not be afraid.
This meeting was supposedly for challenging my ownership of this mansion due to my age and occupation. I mean, I hadn’t inherited a penny from my long-dead parents. But something didn’t add up. Why would these rich-looking men want my house? Why this house specifically? I got that it certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes, but they seemed too convinced that I would just… give it up. For absolutely no other reason than their intimidating looks and threat to go to court. I don’t think another mansion would have made any difference to them – their try-too-hard looks certainly gave that message. In fact, just their Rolexes and Armani suits put together would have paid for this.There must have been a motive. Because behind the casual, feigned indifference act, I could just make out the hints of desperation starting to creep in. Hours of people-watching certainly had its benefits in times like these. Maybe it was the furniture? I undoubtedly had a knack for collecting random furniture, everything put together to turn any room into a piece of artwork. I had nothing of utmost value – except for a couple of paintings and maybe expensive jewellery, some gifted by appreciative strangers. Of course, I had my own silly, personal items of value that I refused to give up. My few yarns of fading wool left from my first blanket as a kid, my favourite Taylor Swift pyjamas, then there was the rin- OH, GOD, THE RING!I rushed back to my suite, almost knocking over a vase in my hustle to pull the piece of amethyst out, studying the tarnished shank. It wasn’t anything special – just a ring from my mother, an heirloom passed down from generations of Allen women to their eldest daughters. But there was always something odd about the ring – the centre stone much too large for its prongs. I had always dismissed the slight movement of the giant amethyst as the product of time and the hollow-sounding stone as just due to an empty hole underneath, a could-be-improved design. But maybe it held something underneath? After being twisted, the stone finally bounced off when I tried to wrench it free, and inside was a rough, grey, fingernail-sized stone. I must have looked confused because the stone reflected a question mark painted all over my face. Why was there a stone inside a ring? Wasn’t amethyst already a type of stone? No explanation was provided but a small, damp, yellowing piece of paper.Where there is a will, there is a way.A proverb?Huh, that was weird. Mum certainly wasn’t the type of person who relied on ‘inspirational’ quotes; she said they were just meaningless words put together to sound meaningful. But of course, this could have been there from generations before. But there was still a missing piece of the puzzle here. The word ‘will’ was written with more obvious force, the ink almost going straight through the rough page, as if the force of the pen on paper alone could ‘will’ the reader to understand.It was as if the word itself was trying to portray a certain message. Well, the most obvious meaning could be that in every one of my foremothers’ ‘wills,’ the ring was the only object inherited by the eldest daughter.But one thing was for sure; it was definitely related to these men. Men who were surely questioning my long disappearance by now.Still puzzling it out, I stumbled back into the living room, hugging my index finger with the ring now closed off again. My previous composure must have slipped, for the men now looked at me with smugness written all over their faces. “Couldn’t afford the cake after all? You must’ve even searched the nearby shops, for all the time you took.” But those smirks slipped instantly as their gazes went to the ring on my finger and then snapped straight to my face, as if catching themselves doing something they weren’t supposed to, and firmly confirming their real intentions for coming.Their eyes were narrowed now, suspicion glinting in their inky depths, and their postures were stiffer, as if readying to bolt out the door. It was obvious now – they wanted my ring. But couldn’t they have already gotten it by force if they really wanted it? For some reason, they were doing this the easy way – having me just hand it over willingly. And there I was again, using that word. Will.Maybe my weapons had given off a stronger impression than I had intended, but I doubted that was why. Still, why they wanted a worthless ring was beyond me.“Well, if you insist on being so stubborn about a court case, we can make a deal. My daughter’s wedding is coming up, and I was wondering what to get her. I want one expensive piece of jewellery from you that you think will satisfy her, and we’ll forget all about today’s meeting,” said the man on the right.I almost lost it right there and then and burst out laughing. He couldn’t be serious; they had come here for an ‘issue’ that could soon be going to court, yet they’d trade it for a piece of jewellery? They could buy an entire jewellery shop if they wanted to. The word ‘subtlety’ was clearly not in their dictionaries. They might as well have shouted, “We want your ring! Your house means nothing to us!”“Would this ring meet your expectations?” I asked, testing the waters.Their faces visibly relaxed, small smiles threatening to break over their stone-hard expressions. They really couldn’t be expecting me to just hand it over.They instantly proved me wrong.“Yep! That would be perfect. She would really like that. Besides, we never really wanted to go to court, you see. Too much work.”Careful to keep my expression open and relieved, I told them I would be right back with the ring packaged carefully. How naive did they think I was?So these were the facts: four rich men practically barged into my house, threatening to file a lawsuit against me for ‘illegally’ owning the house, and suddenly they were willing to drop the case in exchange for my worthless ring.But I had figured them out already. Enough men had demanded and expected things from me in my life for me to know, and their expressions of forced kindness gave it away. Will. They could have easily taken the ring, but they couldn’t take it unless I willingly gave it.Which means one thing – this ring was worth much, much, much more than I had realised. Enough for people to gaslight me for it. And clearly, the whole purpose for all the riddles and hidden stones was for the ring to never ever land in the hands of one of these men. From their faces, I could tell that they all knew it, too. This small piece of stone was far more valuable than it looked, but none of them knew why. And they would as soon as they had time to puzzle it out.But not if I did first.
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