Cordelia freezes. “Why?”

“I’m not sure. I was against the idea at first, but they assured me he hasn’t shown any kind of aggression—in fact, he’s taken his imprisonment quite well.” He meets his daughter’s stare. “I understand if you don’t want to do it.”

“But you want me to,” Cordelia says simply.

“…I’ll admit, I have my curiosities about where he’s from, but I don’t expect you to do it for free. I’ll pay you—handsomely.”

Cordelia’s eyes flash open with intrigue. This—THIS was her ticket out! But, was she ready to face him again? He gave her a nasty scare—but anything was worth working under her mother’s thumb.

“How much?”

“Enough for you to save up for a down payment.”

Her jaw drops, “Really?”

“This man could show the world that dimension travel is a possibility. If you can help him talk, it could mean our research could finally pay off.”

“Gee—I get it. You’re really into this.” Cordelia grimaces. How did she ignore her dad’s unapologetic enthusiasm for all these years? Better yet—why is he so into dimension travel? “Can you also talk to Mom? I know you won’t talk her out of her decision, but you could convince her to shorten my hours at the office.”

“Done. I have one more condition, however. She can’t know about Willa Corp—understand?”

“What, Mom doesn’t believe your dimensional hobby either?”

“She doesn’t—and would kill me if she knew you were a part of this.”

“Whatever gets me away from Mom. I’ll do it.”

Glen parks the limo in the underground parking lot. Cordelia saw the building’s fluorescent sign—Fundami Entertainment—definitely not Willa Corp. Would she believe in all dimension bending realities if Willa Corp had been displayed for all to see? Chances are she wouldn’t. Her father gets out of the vehicle, encouraging Cordelia to follow with a sideways glance. He had prepped her along the way, telling her to be on her best behaviour as if she were a child. How demeaning!

Cordelia brushes off her skirt as an excuse to hide her nerves. Now was not the time to get the jitters. There’s nothing beyond these walls that would convince her of dimension travelling capabilities.

“I know that stance.” Her father’s stern voice grabs her attention. “I told you, keep an open mind.”

“You’re asking a lot.” She mutters.

Her father takes the lead, ignoring her disapproval. She sees an elevator door up ahead—it looks like a custodian’s elevator. “Are we at the right place? The building said Fundami Entertainment.”

“It’s Willa Corp’s cover name.”

“Yeah, should have figured.” She rolls her eyes as her father presses the up-arrow. A short ding—the elevator doors open.

A woman with short hair and a headband greets them inside the elevator. Cordelia steps back, caught off guard by the elevator’s resident.

The woman’s brown eyes challenge Cordelia’s as she raises a judgemental brow. “Is this your daughter?” She stares at Cordelia while addressing her father.

“Yes. Cordelia, meet Phoebe Willa.”

Cordelia wryly smiles as she reaches for Phoebe’s hand. At least the woman had a strong handshake. This Phoebe person couldn’t be much older than she was.

“I have to say, I’ve been curious to meet you.” It sounds more like a musing than a pleasantry. “But, rules state that you need a reason to be here. It seems you’re the only person our informant wants to talk to.”

Informant? More like misinformant.

“Wonderful.” Cordelia claps her hands together, her lips pressed against her teeth. The lipstick wore off from her visit with Noralyn, and she didn’t have the time to reapply it. Staining her teeth was no concern.

“Before that—Mr. Firthe suggested that you don’t believe in parallel dimensions?”

Mr. Firthe? Unbelievable!

“Can you blame me?” Cordelia shrugs.

“No, I can’t. It is a bit hard to swallow without evidence—which—I can’t give you. But, what I can deliver is the possibility. Follow me.”

The elevator door opens; Cordelia wrinkles her nose. Why does this place smell like hand sanitizer? Cordelia and her father follow Phoebe down the narrow, yet well-lit hallway, passing many doors. It looks like a regular office building. Cordelia expected neon blue lights, and pictures of portals littering the walls. This was quite disappointing.

Phoebe halts as she turns to the left door, her fingers tapping away on a keypad. Cordelia hears the sound of files flying around—hearing the brunette yell, “How the hell did you get in here!?”

Cordelia peeks behind the door, curious to see what’s going on. In the room is a woman surrounded by air born papers. Her purple sleeveless dress is cute—a little belt cinching the girl’s waist. She has good taste.

“I—” The woman stops, her blue eyes widening in fright—averting her gaze immediately. She’d kill for her thick, dark hair.

Phoebe kneels down, assembling the paperwork swiftly. “I told you not to come in here.” She mutters under her breath.

“Have we met?” Her father observes. “There’s something familiar about you.”

“You haven’t, she’s new.” Phoebe slams the file on the desk—Cordelia glances at the bold red file label.

Laurius, R.

Laurius? Cordelia doesn’t recognize the surname, but it sounds Antillan.

“I’ll just get out of the way.” The dark-haired woman says meekly before dashing from the room.

“I’m sorry, forgive her. She’s my cousin.” Phoebe laughs, but her face grows serious as she settles down.

“A spritely lass at that.” Her father chuckles. “She wears the same guilty face my Delia used to when she was up to no good.”

“Dad!” Cordelia elbows her father in the arm. “Never mind him.”

“Now—for the matter at hand.” Phoebe clears her throat to get their attention. “We matched the details we found in the man’s wallet.” Phoebe leans over the desk, shuffling through the messy file. “Now bear with us, Cordelia. This is going to sound like utter nonsense to you.”

At least Phoebe’s honest.

“I wanted to show you this in person.” Phoebe hands a newspaper printout to her father, as he scratches his chin. “We were able to match his identity with someone of the same credentials—but it says here that he died in a shooting six years ago. We sent someone out to the home where he was apparently cremated, and we have proof that he was. It’s mind-boggling to think he could be from a parallel reality.”

“My God.” Her father stares wide-eyed at the article. “Surely you didn’t tell him about this?”

“Of course not. He’s been so well behaved, I didn’t want to unsettle him.” Phoebe shifts in place. “The only thing I have short from confirmation is a DNA test. I’d rather not scar his mother from further damage.”

“Understandable. Cordelia, you said he thinks I destroyed his dimension with a watch.”

Cordelia nods, but out of obligation. Phoebe’s right—this goes way over her head.

“That would explain why he attacked you—and why he’s here. You told me the watch was what he was looking for—I can assume what we have locked away is the watch he’s referring to. I will give my pictures to you, Cordelia. You don’t have to believe in our work, but please, let us know whatever he says.” She hands Cordelia a blank file, the pictures inside. “I don’t want him to know what we were talking about. Can you keep this to yourself?”

Nerves spiked, Cordelia nods. Why is it now that she feels so nervous?

“He’s on the fourth floor. Mr. Firthe, I think it’s best you wait in the lobby—you’re a point of contention for him.”

Her father places a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay with me waiting downstairs?”

“I’ll be fine, Dad.” She grins with false confidence.

Cordelia and Phoebe leave the office, the brunette guiding her back to the elevator. The quick motion unsettles her stomach. Her palms pulse against the cool air—the doors open to the fourth floor. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears as Phoebe leads her through two sets of doors—where the perpetrator sits. He ignores the outside until she opens the final door—his warm violet eyes are on Cordelia.

She freezes—he refuses to look away.

<I’ll talk to her, but you need to leave.> He grins—almost wickedly.

Fear—it’s all she feels.

“If you need me, I’ll be just around the corner.” Phoebe states. She leaves the two—the silence between them deafening. It’s like she’s in her father’s office, all over again.

His voice purrs, <Nice to see you again, Cordelia.>