Mira

My fingers caress my name, written on the paper in fountain pen. The return address belongs to the Vale Company.

Strange. I grab a knife to slit open the top of the envelope.

With trembling fingers, I pull out a folded sheet of paper. I can't believe my eyes.

Owen Vale sent me a letter! It's dated before his accident, back when we were putting the finishing touches on our project for Nebula Land.

Dear Mira,

I apologize in advance if my words are muddled. Condensing my gratitude here is no easy task, but I will try, because you deserve to know how much you have influenced my life. Even an old fellow like me can learn a few new tricks, or be reminded of things he forgot long ago.

Owen Vale is expressing his gratitude to me? I'm the one who should be grateful for the time he took to work with me!

Before I met you, I was going through a dark period. For the first time in many years, I felt lost. When you burst into my office with your enormous smile and an imagination still waiting to be explored, I was immediately impressed by your lively mind and kind heart. It took me a while to understand why I felt connected to you, but I now realize it's because you remind me of myself when I was younger. Someone not yet touched by money, fame, and the expectations that numb even the strongest creative minds.

I'm overwhelmed by what I'm reading, and my emotions threaten to spill over.

I know you aspire to join the creative team. When you finally feel worthy of it (whatever that means,I did quite well without attending a prestigious university, and you can too), I want to help you achieve that dream. So wherever you are and whatever you're doing, know that you will always have a position as a creator at Wondervale if you want it. All you need to do is contact my secretary, Diane, and she will give you your contract. No interview necessary.

Tears spring to my eyes. Owen supported my dream without fail, even though I kept telling him no. He would surely be proud if he knew how much progress I've made over the past few months.

I have one small favor to ask in return. In my will, I asked my grandson to serve as director of Wondervale for six months and devise a plan to improve the park.

He did what?! I clutch the paper in my fist, stunned.

I personally selected you to serve on the voting committee. You will be asked to approve or reject Elliot's proposal.

Me? I must be hallucinating! Has Elliot known all this time that I would be on that committee? A sudden urge to vomit comes over me, but I take a few deep breaths to calm myself before continuing to read.

You reminded me why I founded Wondervale. I had lost the passion you feel for the park somewhere along the way. Your original ideas rekindled an enthusiasm in me that had long been extinguished. So I know you are the person I must ask for help one last time. This request may seem rather enormous, but I want you to contribute to the change Wondervale so badly needs. I therefore ask that you join my committee and vote for the park's future.

My hands trembling, I read the end of Owen Vale's letter, which lays out the details of the process. I scan it twice more, then it slips from my hands and lands on the floor.

Was Elliot informed that his grandfather tasked me with approving his proposal? Is that why he hired me?

No, impossible. He can't know.

But why would he hire a girl like you, with so few qualifications, who also tore Wondervale's most expensive attraction to shreds?

He could have hired anyone to make sure Wondervale was in the best possible hands to win the vote. The reason he gave me for pretending to be Grant seemed reasonable at the time, but now I wonder if it was another scheme to snoop around and see whether I would mention the voting committee. And what if that entire speech at my desk yesterday was merely an attempt to placate me so I wouldn't turn against him?

With every question that enters my mind, my doubts grow.

What if our entire relationship was a lie?

Elise pulls the pillow off my face and sits down, hugging it against her stomach.

"What's wrong?"

"The fact that Elliot was born."

"I thought we'd banned that name from being spoken in this apartment!"

"That was before I received a letter from Owen Vale that exposes his grandson."

My friend's eyes widen so much they look ready to pop out of their sockets.

"WHAT?!"

I tell her about the vote before laying out all my theories. I also tell her about the exchange with Elliot in which he tried to invite me to his house despite everything he's done to me, which only strengthens my suspicions.

Elise manages to control her emotions until I finish my story. Then she springs off the couch to fetch her phone from her bedroom. When she returns, she paces while typing something on it, her cheeks flushed and her hair sticking up wildly.

"What an asshole!" she mutters, stabbing hard at her screen with a frown.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to calculate how long someone survives bleeding out after being castrated."

I laugh out loud.

"Violence is never the answer."

"Oh, Mira," she says, patting my hand once she sits beside me again. "Your view of the world is so innocent. It's adorable."

"What do you mean by 'innocent'?"

"It's as if no one ever told you Santa Claus doesn't exist."

My mouth drops open in shock.

"What?! Santa Claus doesn't exist?"

"Idiot," she replies, rolling her eyes with a smile.

"You know, mutilation and murder aren't really what I'm looking for."

"Only because you couldn't afford a good lawyer afterward."

We burst out laughing, and I give her a playful kick.

"But seriously, castration?"

"You know what they say: dickheads lose their dicks."

"Nobody says that!"

"Then maybe it's time we did. I mean, does that bastard really think he can manipulate you like this? Does he even have a conscience?"

"That's debatable…"

I sigh. At one point, I thought he did, but now… who knows? Even though Elliot seemed sincere when he came to see me at the office, I can no longer be sure of anything where he's concerned.