Bound by The Will

Isabella

Three hundred hours, one thousand eight hundred minutes, and twenty-one thousand, six hundred seconds.

That was how much time I had left to make things right. The big problem? My brain was in freaking overload, and I had exhausted most of my options. My parents were no longer alive, my brother was a barely functioning alcoholic, and my friends—scoff. Which friends? The ones who were the reason I was in this mess in the first place?

A sudden draft in the room took me out of my thoughts. I rubbed the goosebumps on my arms before looking around the room. With its pink hues, the giant bean bag, and comforting air, this had become my refuge and given me a host of memories. I would miss it with an intensity that I could not even bring myself to articulate. After sighing for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour, I stood up straight.

A quick pat on my back, and I was out of there. It felt like a goodbye before the end. It was not going to be final, though. That was the only promise I could give myself. I had failed this time around, but it was not the end. My comeback was going to be epic.

My phone ringing pulled me out of my thoughts. I frowned when I saw that it was an unknown number. I could count the number of people who had my number on one hand, so this was strange. I hesitated so long that the call ended. But before I could let out a sigh of relief and clear the impending anxiety that came with phone calls, it rang again.

With a frown, I swiped right and put the device to my ear.

“Miss Long?”

It was a female voice, and it sounded soft but firm. If that made any sense at all.

After clearing my throat discreetly, I responded, “This is she.”

“Great! We’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a while now.” Before I could even think about the implications of her sentence, she continued. “I am Edna Huang, solicitor, and I’d like to invite you to discuss the late Mr Pearson’s will.”

My confusion grew even stronger. Was this some sort of prank? Or one of those scam calls?

“Mrs Huang, I am going to hang up now because I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. Have a great day.”

“Please do not hang up, Miss Long. I have sent you several emails that have gone unanswered, so I had to take drastic measures and call you.”

“If this is some sort of prank call, I need you to know that I am the wrong person. My credit cards are maxed out, my score is low, and I am up to my neck in debt. Look for someone else to play these tricks with.” I heaved a breath after letting that out and stifled a chuckle.

It felt liberating to say all of that out loud, considering that I had no one to talk to about it.

“Miss Long, I am not asking you for anything you cannot give me. I just need you to show up tomorrow at the Pearson HQ by 2 pm.”

She was determined.

“You know what? Fine,” I said finally. At least, nobody was asking for my credit card information or Social Security number. Plus, what was I even doing the next day? Another mope session? Crying over spilt milk?

“Thank you very much, Miss Long. Have a great day,” the woman on the other end of the call chirped, then she hung up.

I was baffled. That was such a strange encounter. But for some reason, my energy lit up after the call. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I had something to look forward to. Whether it was good or bad, I did not know. However, at least the hours were going to pass a lot quicker now.

1:45 pm.

I was standing in front of Pearson HQ, feeling like a fraud. The building was even bigger than in my imagination, and it was all I could do not to walk in the direction of the bus and go back to the comfort of my bed.

It was 1:45 pm, and I was already in front of Pearson HQ. My neck was craned up so high that I still couldn't see the top. But what struck me the most was the movement. I felt incredibly out of place, even with my hair tied back in a bun, sensible shoes, and the best dress in my closet. Everyone else looked expensive and busy; I was even scared to touch their clothes in case I was hit with an insane dry-cleaning bill.

After the initial intimidation passed, I took out my phone and called Edna Huang. The speed of my heart rate slowed down a little when she picked up on the first ring and chirped out a very happy-sounding, “Hello!"

"Hi, Mrs Huang, this is Isabella Long. I am currently in the lobby of Pearson HQ. How do I get to you?”

“Oh great, you’re early. Take the elevator to the sixteenth floor. Introduce yourself to the receptionist, and she’ll show you to the meeting room.” For some reason, I liked this woman already and found myself nodding as she spoke.

“Got it. Thank you,” I added, then hung up.

After repeating the information to myself several times to ensure I wouldn't forget, I walked into the building and went straight to the elevator. Immediately after I got in, so did someone else. I was so engrossed in my shoes that I didn't pay them any attention. Not until the car stopped and all the lights went out.

As soon as that happened, I let out a small scream and looked up. In the dark, I could not make out any of the other occupant’s features. However, if the broad shoulders were anything to go by, it was a man. A tall man. A very large man. I was stuck in some unknown elevator with a strange man.

“Hey,” he said in a low voice that sent frissons through my body. “Are you okay?”

My eyes were already shut by this point, and I was trying to focus on controlling my breathing. “I’m claustrophobic,” I managed to let out audibly.

I heard some rustling before feeling a touch on my hand. At that exact moment, I forgot all about my claustrophobia. All I could think about was how electrifying that simple contact felt. In the enclosed space, my sharp intake of air sounded really loud. I hoped the man did not make the connection.

“Hold on to my hand. It might help ground you,” he told me. There was some authority in his voice, and I found myself complying without brooking an argument.

Blindly, I found his hand and clasped it tightly, fervently hoping that we would not be stuck in this situation for much longer. Like an answered prayer, the lights flickered on almost as soon as I held on to the stranger’s hand. I was loath to let go, so my eyes remained shut for a few more seconds. When I finally did, he tightened his hold for a moment before letting go of me.

Almost as if he, too, could not bear to let that happen.

“Thank you very much,” I muttered, trying not to look up at him.

It seemed the man was not going to allow that to happen, as he called for my attention. “Are you alright?” His question was laced with that same authority, and it almost prompted me into telling him just how horrible I felt.

Instead, my gaze finally strayed from his chic dress shoes—that probably cost more than six months of rent in my apartment—to his face. The man was already staring at me with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. His beautiful grey eyes seemed to see right through me, and it was impossible for me to remember what I had wanted to say.

With a tremulous swallow, I looked away from him, trying to catch my breath again. “Yes,” I finally managed to say firmly. “I am fine now. Thank you very much for your concern.”

The man’s gaze was weighing on me, and it was all I could do not to stare in his direction. There was no need pining over a man I would never see again, no matter how attractive he was—from his chiseled jawline to the dark hair that almost fell into his face.

I shook my head at my silly thoughts and tried not to stare into the mirror in front of us. My breath had quickened, and my palms felt disgustingly sticky against each other. I wiped them furtively on my dress before clasping them together and hoping I did not embarrass myself further before reaching the sixteenth floor.

Luckily for me, the doors opened soon after, and I bounded out, not giving either of us the chance to say anything to each other. I was certain that my behavior was ridiculous—and I felt even more so. There was no explanation for my absurd actions. I had met a man I was greatly attracted to, and he had helped me. Instead of thanking him properly, the first thing I did was rush out of the elevator. As if he had some sort of contagious disease.

With a shake of my head, I walked to what I presumed was the receptionist’s desk. She was staring at me really intensely, and the look in her dark brown eyes made me somewhat on edge. “Good morning. Isabella Long for Edna Huang.”

“First door down the hallway. She’s expecting you.”

I bristled at her cool tone, then with a practised smile, said, “Thank you.”

That got no response apart from an unsettled smile, which I did not understand. After taking a deep breath, it was with stilted steps that I went towards the hallway. The excitement from the previous day had faded, leaving me with a heaviness in my chest that I could not shake off. The door of the meeting room was slightly ajar. After settling my spirits, I pushed it open, staring at my shoes.

When my head lifted, I stopped in my tracks. There he was. The man from the elevator. Staring at me with that same intense gaze. What was he doing here? What was going here?