“How could the sole heiress to the SpinLink Corporation just disappear without a trace?” Jaxon hoped Mr Windman’s question was rhetorical, because he didn’t have an answer.
The older man glared around the room, full of silent, stressed, subordinates, all wondering the same thing.
The only thing that could be said for sure what that Serena Windman had left of her own free will. She’d walked out of the front door two mornings ago with a suitcase and a handbag, blown a kiss to the security camera, smirked, then walked away. She’d driven off in her own car – the sleek silver BMW with the GPS tracking tag – parked it at secure lot connected to a suitably upscale shopping precinct, and vanished.
She had also left her phone, her credit cards, and her passport. Once again, she’d been picked up by security cameras in the shopping area, alone, and smiling. She’d walked past the shops, turned left into the crowded pedestrian mall at one end, and simply vanished.
Rohan’s phone buzzed, loud in the silent room, he grabbed it and checked the screen. Unknown number, he answered. The screen lit up with a video call.
Serena.
She waved. “Hey bestie, how’s Gramps doing?”
“I am not your bestie and he’s worried sick.” Rohan almost threw the phone across the table to her purple-faced grandfather.
“Awwww, I’m hurt.” Serena smirked again. “Hi Gramps. Do you believe me now?”
“Serena Amelia Jocasta Windward, you get yourself home right now. What do you mean by this foolishness?”
The whole room heard her sigh. “See? This is why I had to leave. I’m not coming back Gramps. Not until you realise I’m an adult, with my own life, making my own decisions. And those decisions do not include marrying that creaking wreck of a poker buddy of yours.”
“I’ll cut off your allowance.” The old man was bellowing now. “Just see how you get on without my money, without my influence cushioning everything you do.”
“I’ll be fine. You see, while you’ve been auctioning me off to your geriatric friends, I’ve been working. Got quite a nice little freelance business going. The income’s not huge, but I can make it work, especially since I’ve been shoving most of that allowance into investments and secret accounts for the past few years.” She shrugged. “I even have friends, real ones, not ones you’ve bought, and a cute little flat in a different city, possibly even a different country. Thanks for insisting on all those language lessons.”
The girl, Jaxon paused, no, to be fair, she was an adult, twenty-five if he remembered correctly, seemed to be far more together, and infinitely more determined than he’d ever expected. Shock and awe on the faces around the room said the others with him were thinking much the same.
The call ended with the old man throwing Jaxon’s phone across the room. “Get out. All of you, out. And don’t bother coming back without her.”
Jaxon grabbed his phone – screen shattered, he’d pick up a new one from inventory – and left, someone muttering to him as they left. “Guess we’re all off to pastures new then.”
They were probably right. Jaxon wondered if SAJ Holdings was hiring. He’d heard good things about them – a feisty, energetic startup who could probably do with someone who knew systems security. Wait S A J – Serena Amelia Jocasta? Nah, that would be ridiculous.
The DNA of Stories 