Read The Undercover Heiress :: Reunited At Last

<They found him…> His voice is quiet, shock laces his tone. Cordelia’s wide-eyed, she swears she sees tears in his eyes.

<Phoebe confirmed they have him in custody. Take that as you will.> Cordelia leaves the comforts of the bed, adjusting her dress accordingly. She takes a brief look in the mirror, fixing her hair before grabbing her purse. Radjerd gets up from the bed, immediately rushing for the door. <You might want to put some pants on before we leave.>

<Y-Yeah, I was going to.> He’s still in that haze. Even though it gets harder and harder to believe, Cordelia’s gut confirms that his shock is real. Who did she let herself get entangled with? Radjerd slips on his shirt and slides his jeans up his well-toned calves. Her stomach sinks—did she make a mistake in refusing the man’s proposition? No, there was plenty of time for sex, he lived right next door to her. She had to get home before Phoebe became suspicious.

Radjerd bends over, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. Cordelia focuses on the tightness of his glutes, feigning ignorance as he turns around, a tiny envelope is in his hand.

With a raised brow he asks, <Looks like a sealed letter.>

He’s right. The envelope is blank, but Cordelia can see the lines of the paper inside when the sun hits it. She slips it into her bag—she’ll read it later.

Right now, she had to call Sadie.

Cordelia takes advantage of their travel time to check out the letter in her purse. With a nail file, she cuts the brim of the envelope open, as an index card slips out—it smells like perfume. Odd, she didn’t recall the scent, but her passenger did. His head is lifted from the fog as the smell brings him to attention.

<What does the letter say?> He peers over, saying nothing of the scent.

<Call me if your brute gives you a hard time.> Cordelia reads aloud. A phone number is placed beside the message. She reads the bottom, seeing a signature there. It looks as if it spells Freydis, but she's unsure.

<I’m a brute now?>

<No, no. Someone at the bar hit on me last night—or I think she did. I wasn’t sure if she was teasing me, or…>

<Sounds like someone I know.> Nostalgia laces his voice.

<Maybe you know her, who knows?> Cordelia shrugs, slipping the card into her purse. She didn’t plan on calling the woman, at least, not right now.

A small blush graces her cheeks. <No, I didn’t even think to ask.>

<Well clearly you made an impression on her if you got a number. But, I’m letting you know now. I don’t share well.> There’s that purr again as his hand grazes her thigh. At that moment, the car sharply turns left. Cordelia whips her head up—seeing the warning glint in Sadie’s eye. God damn, she did not mess around. She didn’t bother speaking since the privacy window was up.

<I don’t think your driver likes me—I don’t think I like her very much, either.> He narrows his violet eyes.

<No, it’s just a sharp turn, you’re thinking about it too much.> If Cordelia were paying attention to the passing landmarks outside, she could confirm that truth.

He falls silent, all humour wiped from his face. He’s thinking of Fitz again…isn’t he?

Cordelia allows him to stay silent, as her own thoughts plague her. What if this whole dimensional reality paradox was real, and Cordelia was being the unreasonable one? She shakes her head, that’s silly. She had nothing to base that off of. She had every right to be skeptical. Then why did Radjerd believe it?

No. Cordelia draws a mental line in her head. She refuses to believe in anything until she has the proper evidence to back it up. Phoebe even said it herself—there wasn’t any way she could prove any of Willa Corp’s findings as fact. It’s all based on speculation.

They arrive in the driveway; Cordelia’s heart pounds. The thought of her parents and the newfound Firthe girl feel too much to bear. She doesn’t want to go in. Radjerd eyeballs her to follow, but she takes her time getting off her seatbelt. Not that it matters, she hears the sound of her mother’s voice near the doorway. Cordelia hears the woman’s heels against the cobblestone driveway. Her frown is deep, but her stare isn’t aggressive—it’s oddly warm. She appears to ignore Radjerd’s presence.

“Come inside, I want you to talk to Calista.”

That’s the first thing she says?

“Can I do it later? I don’t feel too great.” She lies.

“I’d rather the two of you clear the air. She’s worried she’s upset you.”

And why do you care? Is what Cordelia wants to ask. But whatever magic spell this Calista had over her mother was pretty powerful. Maybe she should talk to Calista after all, so she can pry the girl’s secrets from within her.

“Who is she?”

“A family member, and she should be treated as such.” Her mother’s tight-lipped.

If that’s the case, Cordelia’s on the right track. She doesn’t dare say that to her mother.

“Just so you know, Phoebe’s coming over. Apparently, Calista left without saying a word to her.”

“Phoebe’s coming here?” The shrill shocked tone of her voice amuses Cordelia.

“Yes, she is—in about an hour, give or take. Oh, and she’s bringing a guy named Fitz with her.” Cordelia shrugs as she walks past her mother.

“Fitz?” Her mother stops, her eyes wide with shock.

“Yeah? You have a problem with him too?”

“Your tone is unappreciated—you better watch your mouth.” Her mother's voice sends a chill down her spine.

"Sorry. But I have to go. Don't have time to chat with her right now." Cordelia doesn’t have time for this—she needs to get ready. Radjerd had the key to the guest house—he could be left to his own devices. Or, at least she hopes he can…

***

Radjerd leaves the guesthouse, his thoughts plague him. Fitz and Aleck never had one—then again, they rarely had company since Fitz’s mother passed away. It’s hard to believe Fitz was here, and he managed to find Willa Corp? It feels like a lifetime had passed since he’d seen his friend—waves of relief calm him. He enters the main foyer, his eyes searching for Cordelia. He assumes she’s in her room getting ready. He’d have done the same, but his wardrobe wasn’t versatile. Thankfully, the guesthouse had plumbing.

His head jerks around as he hears a car in the driveway. This was it. Radjerd freezes in place, his palms clammy. Minutes pass before the door opens.

<Oh, god…Fitz!> The scuffled looking man drops his belongings at the door, his green eyes weary from travel. His unkempt appearance mattered not. Radjerd squeezes his friend tight, his throat thick with emotion.

A small smile graces the blond man’s lips. <I’m relieved to see you too, I didn’t think you made it.> Moisture stains his friend’s green eyes. Radjerd’s arms remain secured around Fitz.

<It’s horrible, Radjerd. My father’s gone, half of Glade Bay is no longer in existence…it won’t be much longer until the void swallows it up.> Fitz’s wrists shake, Radjerd can feel them jitter against his waist. <Everyone we know of will die because of what my father did…> He collapses on his knees, his breaths becoming short as he falls silent. Radjerd attempts to keep him up but the man’s too heavy. He glances up at Phoebe, her face radiates concern. This must be the first time he’s acted up, especially if Phoebe’s looking so worried.

<Thousands, if not millions of lives were taken because of my father—because of me. Why was it that I survived…I didn’t deserve to!> He rakes his fingers through his hair multiple times—it’s hard to watch, but Radjerd refuses to let go of him.

<It’s okay, we can fix this.> Radjerd whispers.

<…I went back to my father’s office. Saw the residue from the fracture—when I saw you fall. I thought you died that day... I met others, but…but they didn’t make it. They risked their lives for me, and I didn’t even think to save them.> Fitz’s eyes radiate helplessness as he looks up at Radjerd. <We need to find a way to reverse this. There has to be a way we can save everyone.>

<But…is time travel even possible?>

<She did?> Radjerd cocks his head at Phoebe. <How do you know?>

<It’s a long story.> She mutters, narrowing her eyes at the stairwell. <One that I’m hoping my cousin can shed some light on.>

Her cousin…did she mean Calista?

His gut churns. He’s got a bad feeling about this.