Soon, the world will know the truth.
Following a lavish three-course lunch and free-flowing champagne, Willem pays the bill, and the group heads toward the exit. I maintain a safe distance while monitoring their movements, being cautious not to attract attention.
I quickly update Ava that they’re leaving.
Ava
Tell me he doesn’t recognize or suspect you.
Me
No. I’m clean. But since I know where Willem is, I’m gonna give the house another shot.
Ava
Be careful, Jack. <3
I don’t do emojis, but receiving that heart is inexplicably satisfying.
I lean against a pillar and continue to observe as Willem’s guests depart in their separate cars. When Willem is alone, a man with a thick beard approaches him, the very same man depicted in Ava’s sketch!
I capture several pictures of the encounter. Determined not to lose sight of them, I hurry back to my car and trail behind. Soon, I discover their destination is Willem’s Beverly Hills residence. As they enter the complex through the front gate, I retreat to the broken hedge with my shades, mask, and gloves on. As if I had rehearsed my moves, I manage to get close enough to see the code to open the house’s front door. I slip into a corner and wait, almost mimicking a potted tree towering beside me.
Finally, the two individuals return and depart from the estate. Armed with the acquired code, I cautiously enter the mansion. So this is how the other half live—or rather, the privileged two percent of Americans.
Numerous studies, living rooms, and libraries spread throughout. I don’t have to imagine that this property belongs to Willem Botha; his presence is evident in every corner. The walls are adorned with exhibits showcasing his awards, framed photos capturing his achievements, and a dedicated wall displaying the chips produced by W-Bot, resembling a museum devoted to himself. Among the displays, there are also prominent photos of him with Ava and Quinton, carefully arranged like pieces of art in a gallery.
I head upstairs, where I discover even more libraries and a room equipped with a telescope and astronomy gadgets. The whole house feels so detached from reality that I don’t even know what to make of it.
Next, I search the master bedroom, disregarding the factthat it used to be Ava’s when she was with Willem. I set my emotions aside and scan their belongings, including those in the walk-in closet, which is almost as big as my entire apartment in Oahu. But just like a meticulously cleaned five-star hotel room, Willem hasn’t left anything useful behind.
Adjacent to the master bedroom is a door that remains locked. It doesn’t use a conventional lock. Access requires the use of a swipe card.
Feeling slightly irritated, I move on to the next room—Quinton’s nursery.
It’s the first time I sense a touch of humanity in this house. The walls around me are adorned with charming murals of African animals, most likely Ava’s creation. In every corner, colorful furniture and storage boxes light up the room. And that unmistakable baby powder scent…
Was Quinton here when Ava served Willem his tea? What went through her mind, carrying her baby for the last time in this house? Yet, there are no remnants of those moments. Like the rest of the house, everything appears impeccably neat, as if untouched by any past events.
My attention then falls on the twin-framed photos resting on a dresser, bearing the words ‘before’ and ‘after.’ One captures Ava heavily pregnant, while the other shows her cradling Quinton in a hospital room. Her face and hair are wet with perspiration, and Quinton still bears the mark of newborn blood. It must have been taken shortly after she gave birth.
My gloved fingertips trace the glass covers, and a new sense of responsibility washes over me. I’ve always envisioned my future solely with the Marine Corps until the day I die. My duty has always been to my country and the brave men ready to defend it. A woman, let alone a family, has never factored into that equation.
I gaze at Ava’s radiant face in the photos. People will call it a mother’s glow, but to me, it’s like a lighthouse guiding me out of the darkness. When I’m out of here, when Quinton is safely back in his mother’s arms, I’ve got to rethink the straight path I’ve carved before this moment. Because I know this paternal instinct that I never thought existed in me will not go away.
I call Ava. “I’ve searched around the house. I can’t find anything. Is there a basement here?”
“No. The garage is the lowest level.”
“An attic?”
“Neither. The highest room is Willem’s stargazing room.”
“I’ve already checked there,” I murmur. “By the way, the W-Bot receptionist mentioned your sketch of Willem in the company logo.”
Ava lets out a frustrated sigh. “He made me do it. But to his credit, I think the logo looks tasteful.”
I chuckle. Suddenly, I hear noises. “Shit! He’s back.”