Page 16 of Scarred Sins
The building she’s staying in has a lot of security cameras. I’m practically giddy on the inside because it’s too easy to monitor her. The cameras are spread from the main entrance and the hall to the elevator and the back exit. It’s fairly easy to hack into them, given that Mom’s favorite pastime these days is hacking into shit.
She’s the one who taught me the basics, and I perfected it over time.
The only camera access inside of the apartment I have is hidden well in the collar that is constantly around Arson’s neck. I’d installed it the moment my butterfly officially took in the cat, and Arson had been my partner in crime for quite some time.
Arson likes me.
If anyone but Blair or me tries to pet her, she hisses and scratches. But she allows me to pet her, purring whenever I’m around. Apparently, cats are very specific on who can touch their belly, and I’m honored that she allows me to pet it.
Blair brought her laptop with her, and as soon as she turned it on, I gained access to everything she was searching for and looking up.
I sit up in my chair, brows narrowed as I look at the screen. She’s looking into articles, trying to find an invitation for the banquet I’ll be attending. The only people aside from politicians and reporters that will attend are people personally invited by Nelson Adams.
Of course, someone is bound to sell the ticket at a high price, and as of right now, they go as high as five grand per ticket, with the bid still being on-going.
Why the fuck is she trying to get into that place?
It’s not safe for her. That night, I’ll need to approach Nelson’s wife, and keeping an eye out for Blair will be next to impossible. Over sixty people will attend, and she’s bound to get lost in the crowd at some point.
When I first started doing research on Blair, I couldn’t find anything on her close or distant family. Her mother and stepfather have no ties to Nelson, because that’s something I looked for specifically.
Her biological father isn’t in the picture. Thomas Smith is named as the father on her birth certificate, but the name is as fake as they get. I did a DNA test with a strand of her hair but came up empty. Her father is either irrelevant or dead, given that he’s not in any US systems.
Blair’s life story is inhumane.
She called the police on herself when she killed her mother and stepfather, and although she tried to explain her side of the story and defend herself, no one believed her. No one believed in the horror stories of her sexual, physical, and mental abuse.
No evidence.
Motherfuckers.
But the horror stories she said are her past. Something she had to endure, experience, and put up with for a long time, something that will haunt her for the rest of her life.
I believe her.
Even if no one else does, I do.
The website she opens is a sketchy one from the dark web. Finding one of those is fucking rare, and Blair either has the worst or best luck in the world – I’m yet to determine which one.
I tap my finger along the side of the desk, following her movements from my personal laptop. With ease, I kick out the other participant and take his spot, bidding against Blair for the ticket.
I would kick her out too, but knowing her, she’ll find another way in. Instead, I’ll just offer a bigger price until she gives up.
At the bottom right corner of the screen is a small chat box icon, which I don’t want to open at all until I see a message come through.
“It’s best if you give up. I’m getting that ticket.’’
With a chuckle, I type in the response with my free hand.
“Sorry, butterfly. I can’t let you get that ticket.”
For a moment, she starts typing, then stops.
There’s a minute left before the official bidding begins, and I already know how much money she has saved up. I’ll offer double, get the ticket, and leave the website, deleting it from her laptop altogether.
“Do you make it a habit to give nicknames to strangers?”
With a heavy heart, I ignored her message.
