Yora

As long as the dining room table was, I hadn’t thought it’d been big enough to fit all of us. The reason why we’d even agreed to meet in the second dining room was because the grandest one was located in the left wing of the house, farther from where all of us had chosen to stay. John would most likely figure out that we were not all too separated from one another. He must have deduced that already, on his walk with Cig.

I knew there had been a 50/50 chance of them finding the dining room. Cig’s poor eyesight in the thick darkness of the large house would be their biggest Achilles’ heel. But there had been a reason as to why I had partly wanted to draw them away from the dinner scene in front of me.

Despite these men being my closest relatives, blood or not, I felt that they would take John’s presence more calmly if he met them gradually. Though, if Cig did manage to find his way, then I wouldn’t hold John back from meeting my family.

I was only trying to shield him from what I expected would be suspicions from some of the guests—but in reality, I had no right to do any of that to him or for him.

John was suspicious of me too. I wasn’t excluded in his list of suspects, and that was fine. Honestly, the murderer could’ve been anyone, even him.

Alexander was right, as always. Of course he was . . .

I had to stop playing with those cigarettes of mine. All of the guests had to, or else—

Looking from side to side, I eyed the men in their school uniforms. It was like we were back in our teens. They had aged, yes, but very little. A handful of us were only in our mid-twenties. Some of us were slightly younger, or slightly older.

Disrupting the short murmurings of the gathered men, Alexander rose and called for attention silently. All he had needed to do was stand. With that, the men stopped talking immediately.

It was frightening watching him at times.

Stealing a glance at the two empty chairs at the far end of the table, I grew antsy even more. I had assumed that Cig and John would probably not arrive, though their absence still made me anxious.

The house was not safe at the moment. Anything could’ve happened to them.

“Not all of us are here, but we must begin.” Alexander gave me a look. It only lasted for a second, but I could tell he was frustrated by my new roommate.

If there was anyone who was stressed the most in our situation, it was him.

I opened my mouth, knowing that disrupting him would only cause more anxiety in the heir, “Make it quick, Alexander.” I said, as politely as I could muster. “I believe I have other . . . matters to attend to.” My eyes went to the empty chairs.

Christopher coughed into his napkin, muffling an obvious laugh. Terry did nothing but stare blankly at his employer, tired.

Alexander gave me a quick nod. A short answer for a problem he did not want to deal with.

Across from me, Lynn sent me a reassuring smile. I bowed my head and returned his sentiments with a smirk.

While Christopher was the ray of sunshine, Lynn was the comforting figure. It balanced Alexander exquisitely. And with the man’s tight schedule and endless workdays, the thought of such a reliable set of siblings ready to assist him whenever he needed a helping hand was endearing.

Alexander sat at the head of the table, while I sat on his right. Lynn was on his left, and Christopher was beside him. Terry and Mae, the assistants of those men, were close by, in ear shot if anything needed to be done.

That left the rest of the men . . .

8 in total.

“So, to clear up the obvious elephant in the room,” Alexander started. “Bell has arrived, and so has an acquaintance of both Riley and Yora.”

Charlotte Bell Westley, sitting beside his best friend and my cousin, the ever serious and silent Light Modiano, raised his shoulders up to his ears, cowering from the guilt he felt still. I knew it had not been his fault entirely for letting John inside the house, though I would’ve probably reacted in the same way.

I raised my voice, “His name is John. I’ve known him for a good amount of time, so—” Sitting up in my seat, I made sure to scan the room, to make eye contact with each and every guest, “It would be in your best interests to trust his word. He’s smart, and that’s what we need to get out of here.”

“Do any of us know who’s behind all of this?” Jack asked. He was the younger brother of Riley Ledders, and the son of the woman who had sent John to the house in the first place.

Alexander leaned forward on the table, brows furrowed, “It could be any of us, Jack.” He said clearly. It unsettled the men, but that was nothing new. They would be going through many uncomfortable situations, and they had to accept that. “Which brings me to the subject of the . . . professor.”

Everyone grew tense. It filled the air.

“Do any of you recognize his voice?” Alexander questioned severely.

The men looked at each other hesitantly. It appeared that none of them had the slightest clue as to who the man could be.

This was going to be difficult.

Frederic and Florence, the two guests who had taken up the role of the chefs for the meal, had sat side by side with Rutta Valerian Westley. Unlike Rutta, they were not related to Westley or Modiano. The only relation the three of them had was that they all worked for the Westley hospitals.

Florence, sitting between his friends, raised his hand, “Could the professor be lying?” He suggested.

As desperate as they were to not believe in the voice, the declarations could not be brushed aside. The professor had been serious about his proclamations. Otherwise, why would he go to such lengths? One of the guests had killed George Westley. Whether they liked it or not, there was someone among us who we needed to keep an eye on.

Alexander responded, “With such a statement, I can only assume this professor will present the obvious evidence to us soon.” There was weariness in his voice.

I could hear it because he was speaking to Florence. As I had stated before, Florence, Frederic, and Rutta, they all worked for various Westley hospitals, thus they had been the ones to handle the body of George Westley first. Besides the police investigation, it’d mostly been an internal affair, within the family.

Cig as well. He had been the one who had conducted the proper tests on the fluids found on the scene before they buried him. They had all assured us that he had died accidentally. There had been no trauma to the body that indicated violence of any sort, well—there hadn’t been enough to say that it’d been murder. The man had fallen off of the nearby cliffs, so any traces of a struggle could not be found, not with his body completely broken on the seaside rocks.

If someone had pushed him, then none of us would ever know.

“I still have no idea why I am even here.” Warren Gregory said with his deep, overpowering voice. He was the son of George Westley’s best friend from the war. On his left, his own best friend, Pippin Anna-Beth Westley, who oversaw Westley Motors, listened quietly.

“Warren, as I’ve said, we must suspect everyone.” Alexander replied more calmly. Warren was a very serious individual, much like his father. It was best not to rattle him. “We all have our own issues regarding business or family, or maybe even both. There are things that we must reveal, so that we can move on. It is a distasteful way of conducting business, but that is what this professor is aiming to do.”

That was true. There were internal affairs that needed to be settled, for some reason. Amid all of that was the answer. Whether they knew it or not, each and every one of us had a hand in the murder, but how?

That was what we needed to figure out.

I exhaled and clasped my hands in front of me, not willing to take a bite out of any of the food. We had to start the ‘classes’. I was beginning to get antsy with all of the waiting.

But first I had to find my friend, and also my roommate. John had to hear what these men were saying. I wanted him to.

Rising, I tapped the heel of my shoe impatiently on the dark wood, gaining Alexander’s attention.

He stared at me intently, as if he was telling me that I had to stay.

I gave him a nonchalant look, which annoyed him.

Alexander handled my sarcasm better than others, but under our current situation, his patience was dwindling.

He lowered his head, giving me a long sigh. “Find him.” He said, under his breath. It almost came out as a command.

I said in an equally quieter voice, “With pleasure.”

My eyes landed on his blazer breast pocket, right above the golden ‘W’ that was our apparent school emblem. In the kitchen, he hadn’t worn it, but now it was in full sight—

The infamous Westley jewel, a sapphire that was the exact shade of his eyes, was pinned there on his breast pocket. I believe he had been afraid to bring out that family heirloom, but being in the presence of his relatives must’ve struck something in him.

Tearing my gaze away, I hid a faint smile that crept along the corners of my lips.

If it wasn’t serious before, then it was definitely serious now.

The cigarettes, and the Westley family jewel in full display . . .

They were going to be important. I could feel it.