I attended the event dressed in my most expensive dress, showing off money from head to toe. They let me in without even checking my invitation. My eyes scanned the crowd until I spotted Miller Brown. He stood out among the people gathered at the hotel. The hall buzzed with distant voices, filled with millionaires and celebrities who had come to donate to his charity work. A man in a wheelchair, along with his stunning Russian wife in a red dress, took the stage and delivered a persuasive speech, captivating the audience.

As the crowd began to disperse, I approached Miller Brown.

"Hello... Mr. Brown," I greeted him, and he turned towards me.

"Oh, good evening to you," he responded with an Australian accent.

"I am really honored to meet you. What you do is truly a work of humanity," I said with a smile, trying to start the conversation with flattering words.

"Thank you so much, but what a fool I am for not realizing there is such beauty among us..." he remarked and I acted flattered by his words.

"I'm April”

“Miller brown” he introduced himself and we both shook hands and sat down with glasses of wine. He seemed to be very interested in talking to me and I didn’t let go of the opportunity. After a long conversation on men's favorite subjects wine, money, and women I pulled Mr Brown's interest in an investment proposal I had in a very beautiful twist he’d never imagined.

"I had a very expensive bag Mr brown" I paused when he added with an expression.

"It's what makes you a woman!" He said and we both spilled into soft laughter and I took another sip of champagne.

"But this bag was not actually for sale but I still got it," I said in a low voice and watched his expression shifting into a face that said, "It's not about a bag".

"How did you get it then?" He asked while calmly putting the glass of wine on the table.

"That is not important," I said and sipped the last drops of wine from the glass  "The important thing is that I want to sell that bag now in a market where it can easily be sold and that's how no one knows how I got that bag" I explained him and saw some white drops of sweat appearing on his forehead.

"Why are you telling me that?" He asked.

The silence awaits between us for listening to the answer we both already know.

"Because you are the best seller in this market Mr Brown," I said with a smile and watched him gulping many things down his throat.

It is true, if he is wise then he will take my bait and if not then I'll tattoo on my toe that "all men are stupid".

He gently adjusts his posture and orders another drink.

“We can talk business at my home Miss Meyers how about tea at 4 tomorrow noon?" He said by loosening his tie down and I curled my lips into the sweetest smile where my eyes almost squint fully.

"Sure," I said and stood up. "Now then....goodnight Mr. Brown" I shook his hand and left the party but instead of leaving right away, I stayed in my car, curious about what Miller Brown would do next. Exactly two hours later, the party ended and guests began to leave, including Miller's family. I kept a close eye on him, hiding in my car. Miller told his driver to take his family home, but he remained behind, alone in his wheelchair.

It seemed odd to me. The street was nearly empty, late at night, and I watched intently as he waited with bated breath. Then, out of nowhere, a black car appeared. My senses were heightened as I focused on the car door, desperate to see who would come out of the door. But what else I saw shocked me, Miller Brown, who should be wheelchair-bound, stood up and swiftly got into the car.

"Fucking hell," I muttered to myself in disbelief. Had he been faking his disability all this time? And if so, why? Did his family know? Questions swirled in my mind as he drove off. I quickly started my engine and followed him at a safe distance. I couldn't afford to get caught without a backup plan.

From what I observed, his driving was smooth, suggesting he'd done this many times before. It seemed he knew what I was going to offer. After a 15-minute drive, his car came to a stop at a shady, demolished building. Miller hurriedly walked inside. I was curious about what he was up to in there, but it was too risky for me to follow. Taking a deep breath, I couldn't resist the opportunity. With trembling hands, I hiked up my silk dress and retrieved the gun. To be stealthy, I kicked off my heels to avoid making noise and approached the building barefoot.

The ground felt cold under my feet as I reached the back door through which Miller had entered. Slowly, I opened it, greeted by a rush of cold wind and dust. The interior was dark, empty, and dusty, illuminated only by a few weak bulbs. My heart sank with a mix of fear and frustration, as memories of a dream I had on the plane flashed before my eyes. I glanced down and saw the same bracelet and gun in my hands, shaking off the eerie feeling I follow the wooden stairs leading to the first floor. It resembled a guest house, with each step creaking softly under my weight. I tiptoed to the first floor’s  hallway, which was also deserted. Suddenly, I heard noises coming from the third floor. I looked up and try to look through the round stairs, Recognizing Miller's voice, I quickly made my way up the stairs and scanned the area. The third floor was circular, with a large open space in the center extending from the top to the ground floor. There were only five rooms on this floor, and not all of them were empty.

I could feel the presence of people in some of the rooms as I passed the room where Miller is.

"I've been washing out your money for six months without any cut and now you are telling me we are shut down??" Miller's voice echoed from behind the door, though it was distant. I strained to hear the response from the other person, tension building as I slowly opened the door to the room next to theirs. Luckily, it was empty. The ventilation duct led directly into their room, so I swiftly climbed onto the bed and pressed myself against the duct.

"Stay low Miller those FBI dogs are out on the guard... That’s what Boss says" another man with a rough voice and Irish accent told him. But who is he referring to as his Boss?

"I don't fucking care about the FBI, this is all your shit to handle I didn't partner up with the crown organization to become a part of the cat and mouse game...give me my cut and I'll keep my work going or else..." A loud striking sound shuts his mouth.

"You Bastard!!" Miller's threat was cut off by a loud, striking sound. He continued to breathe heavily, and after a moment of silence, the other man spoke.

"You're just one of many dogs, Miller. Father doesn't need you, eh? You'd be dead long ago if you hadn't chosen loyalty to Father over your own life," he said, his voice rough.

Who was this "Father"? But hold on...

They were talking about two different people. One is referred to as "Boss" and the other as their "Father," who might be the head of the Crown Organization. If my information was correct, George Kingston's company was also named "The Crown."

Then who was the "Boss"?

Suddenly, a cold, heavy metal touched the back of my head, halting my train of thought.

"Put your gun down without making a sound," a deep voice whispered, barely audible to anyone but me. I slowly bent down and placed the gun on the bed as instructed.

"Turn around," the voice commanded once more. It had an unfamiliar tone with a slight Italian accent. Raising my hands, I cautiously stepped off the bed and turned to face the figure before me. He was clad in a black operational uniform, clearly not one of them.

I gazed into his sharp brown eyes. "You're not one of them! Who are you?" I whispered, but he remained motionless, offering no answers. In the distance, I heard Miller's voice.

"Tell the Boss about someone named April Meyers... She seems to know about me," Miller's voice echoed faintly. "Find out everything about her and send the file before noon."  I couldn't be able to hold the satisfied smile of mine. So he is not a fool. But fool enough to get manipulated.

The person in front of me lowered his gun, but I didn't let my guard down immediately.

"You shouldn't be here, April," he said, removing the mask from his face. my head spinned all around and stopped on what he  just said.

"Do I know you? Who are you?" I asked, squinting as I tried to remember his face, but my long-term memory wasn't cooperating.

"We need to get out of here first," he replied, taking a deep breath. We managed to get out and sat in a restaurant that’s when I found out that he was from the FBI.

“You probably don’t know about me, I'm Austin Diego. I know about you and what happened to your aunt,” he said between bites of pizza, He seemed really relaxed, but our talk was serious.

“Yes, I do recall my aunt mentioning the name ‘Thomas Diego,’” I replied, and he nodded.

“That’s my father,” he stated, interrupting me as he called the waiter over with surprising forcefulness. The waiter approached patiently at his call.

"I don't understand why New York calls this pizza. Who puts-a pineapple on it?" he exclaimed in his distinct Italian-American accent to the waiter, leaving me silently frustrated. After ten minutes of insistence, he finally settled down with his perfectly made pizza.

“Can we talk now?” I asked, and he nodded once more.

“where is Mr diego?” I whispered, He wiped his mouth with a napkin and said.

“He's dead”. He was the only one who could have shed light on what happened to my family.

“Then what about that box?” I inquired.

“We are still searching for it” he confused me and then added “Dad had Alzheimer, way before the accident and then he got into a coma So he doesn’t remember anything about that box,” he said and the last hope of mine of finding out the truth has also drown in deep waters.

"I know that box might have evidence about your parents' murder, which is why Kingston is desperate for it. But I promise, I'll find it before him," he reassured me. His sheer pitiful behavior left me puzzled.

"What were you doing in that building?" I questioned. Then, recalling something important, I added, "And how do you know me?"

He paused, setting down his pizza. I waited for his answer, squinting at him.

"Someone very close to me made me memorize everything about you, like I memorize laws," he confessed, leaving me even more confused. "And we've been after Miller for weeks. I got a tip, so I went there," he explained, but my mind was still stuck on one question.

"Who's this 'very close person'?" I pressed, but he remained silent for a long moment. Eventually, he exhaled and said,

"Ray!" I wasn't surprised. He didn't elaborate further, only adding, "He's actually the 'Boss' they mentioned from the Crown Organization, involved in money laundering for years. George Kingston has a name in the mafia world, but recently, Ray has been running Kingston's empire."

I chuckled sarcastically. "So your best friend works with the person who killed my aunt, and runs the organization of the person who killed my parents, yet you?” I added “speak so casually about him?" I said, my frustration evident.

"No...April, you're not understanding," he tried to explain.

"No, I understand very clearly," I countered, rising to leave. But he stopped me.

"He's actually helping us uncover information about this organization because he can't act directly. He's also a pawn of his uncle" he whispered, his expression confused. "Even though George raised him as his son, he still doesn't trust anyone."

"And I don't trust your friend," I replied firmly.

"Then I won't trust you either, because loyalty is law to me," he retorted, a loyal dog to the end. I couldn’t help but smile.

"Good to hear, Mr. Diego. I'll find my parents' killer on my own," I declared, releasing his grip and walking away.

"By working in Kingston's laboratories?" his voice called after me, stopping me in my tracks. He knew something I hadn't even told Ha Ri. Now, I was desperate to get rid of this man first. But, I continued walking forward without answering him.