Edinburgh – England – 2 years before Uther´s death
Morgan perched on the edge of the school roof, her legs dangling over the side as she unwrapped a sandwich from its foil. The sun was high, glowing warmly over the cityscape sprawling before her. She took a bite, savoring the taste of turkey and cheese.
Below, the schoolyard buzzed with the chaos of lunchtime. Students clustered in their usual groups lost in teenage drama and laughter.
But up here, Morgan was alone, and that's just how she liked it.
Morgan followed her own course while they worried about fitting in and following rules.
Her reputation as a rule-bender was well-known, but she wasn't reckless. She knew the importance of boundaries, even if she tiptoed along their edges. Her teachers often found her challenging their views in class, pushing the limits of debate and discourse. Yet, she never crossed the line into disrespect.
Her backpack lay next to her, half-open, revealing a stack of books and papers. Among them laid a shiny plaque. It was a certificate with her name etched in the elegant script—evidence of her academic prowess. Over the years she had won countless awards, aced every test, and still found time to question every rule.
The teachers knew her well. They saw her potential, her fierce intelligence, and her unapologetic thirst for knowledge. So, they turned a blind eye when she skipped the cafeteria for the solitude of the roof. After all, how could they reprimand someone who represented the best of their institution?
A gentle breeze ruffled Morgan's hair. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, feeling the air filling her lungs. The thrill of being so high above the world coursed through her veins.
Slowly stepping forward, her boots made a soft thud on the concrete as she stood up at the edge of the roof. Morgan's heart raced with the excitement of the moment. She stretched out her arms, finding balance as she walked along the edge.
Without warning, a sudden gust of wind swept across the surface.
It was strong and forceful, hitting Morgan with an intensity that made her stagger. Her arms flailed, seeking to regain equilibrium.
Morgan's heart skipped a beat.
Her boots scuffed the edge of the rooftop. She bent her knees, lowering her center of gravity, and leaning into the wind. The gust passed as quickly as it had arrived, leaving behind a trail of swirling leaves and a newfound silence.
But it was abruptly broken by the sound of footsteps approaching. Morgan, still feeling the remnants of adrenaline from her encounter with the wind, turned to see a figure emerging from the access door.
"Living on the edge, I see," Baobhan called out, her voice tinged with humor and concern.
Morgan´s cheeky friend has arrived. The vibrant pink hair seemed to capture the essence of her spirited personality.
Morgan stepped back from the precipice, her heart rate finally slowing to its normal rhythm. "Just catching a different perspective," she replied with a nonchalant shrug.
Baobhan walked over. Her boots were clicking on the concrete. She stood beside Morgan, following her gaze into the horizon.
"You know, one of these days, you're going to give me a heart attack," Baobhan teased, half-jokingly.
Morgan chuckled. Baobhan Sith leaned against her best friend, her pink hair catching the golden rays of the sun.
"So, how's the ice queen doing today?" she asked, a playful smirk on her lips.
Morgan returned the smile. "I'm doing well, Baobhan. How about you?"
Baobhan's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Oh, you know, just trying to survive another day of school. But seriously, you've been so busy lately. I've missed our talks. How's everything at home?"
For a brief moment, a shadow passed over Morgan's face, but she quickly masked it with a laugh. "It's the same as always. Busy, but manageable. I've just had a lot on my plate with family responsibilities and school."
"Really. So, what's next on the agenda for Edinburgh´s most notorious rule-bender?" Baobhan inquired, her tone curious.
Morgan picked up her backpack, slinging it over one shoulder. "A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Maybe start a revolution... or just finish my physics homework," her grin slowly fading.
"Time to descend from your lofty throne?" Baobhan quipped, her hand resting on the door handle.
Morgan nodded, her silver-white hair a shining spot in the view
"After you, Your Highness," Baobhan replied with a theatrical bow…
Morgan rolled her eyes but smiled, pushing the door open. The stairwell was dim, lit only by the emergency lights that cast long shadows down the flights of stairs. They began their descent.
Morgan's boots thumped rhythmically against the metal steps, while Baobhan's lighter steps provided a melodic counterpoint.
Halfway down, Baobhan's voice broke the monotony. "You think we'll get caught?"
Morgan considered the question, her hand sliding along the cool railing. "Maybe," she admitted. "But it wouldn´t be the first time, right?"
They shared a small chuckle while they reached the bottom of the stairwell. At the bottom Morgan pushed open the heavy steel door that led back into the main school building.
The school was quiet now, the hustle of the lunch break over. Their voices seemed too loud as they continued their conversation, walking side by side through the empty halls.
"Hey, Baobhan," Morgan started. "How have you been holding up?"
A smile wide smile appeared across Baobhan´s face.
"Oh, you know, just the usual school grind. Projects, assignments, the works," she replied, trying to sound upbeat." I've been working on this new piece for art competition. It's a bit out there, but I think it'll turn heads."
Morgan listened, nodding along. "I've no doubt. Your work always has that 'wow' factor."
The conversation flowed naturally, the exchange of words as comfortable as the companionship they shared.
As they neared the classroom, they exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. Morgan reached for the handle, pushing the door open with a gentle nudge. They slipped inside, the room buzzing with the chatter of their classmates
They were ten minutes late, but they were in luck. The teacher's desk was empty, the usual stack of papers and textbooks untouched.
The teacher, Mrs. Hokusai, was known for her punctuality, which made her absence all the more conspicuous.
Baobhan let out a soft sigh of relief, her pink hair falling over her shoulder as she looked at Morgan. "Talk about good timing," she whispered, a grin spreading across her face.
Morgan nodded, her expression one of resignation.
They made their way to their seats, weaving through the desks with practiced ease. The room was filled with the ambient noise of pre-class energy, students swapping stories and notes, completely unaware of the close call Morgan and Baobhan had just experienced.
As they settled in, the door swung open. Mrs. Hokusai strode in, her arms full of materials for the day's lesson. She didn't seem to notice the two latecomers as she began to organize her things.
The school's art room was a riot of color and creativity, with canvases and paintbrushes scattered across the tables. Baobhan and Morgan sat side by side, their latest projects laid out before them. Baobhan was adding the finishing touches to a vibrant abstract painting, while Morgan sketched out a complex geometric design.
"What do we call it?" Baobhan said, her brush dancing across the canvas. "I'm leaning towards 'Chaos and Order.' It seems fitting, don't you think?"
Morgan chuckled, her pencil pausing mid-stroke.
Baobhan set down her brush, "Considering the duality of our lives, it's perfect. Speaking of which, how's your training going? You know, for the successor position? I know your dad has high expectations for you to take over the firm after him."
Morgan sighed, glancing away for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. The mention of her father's rigorous expectations brought a tinge of anxiety. "It's... a lot," she admitted, her voice softer. "He's been pushing me hard. Sometimes it feels like there's no room to breathe."
Baobhan's brow furrowed with concern. "That sounds intense. Are you managing okay? It must be overwhelming to balance that with school and everything else."
Morgan forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, it's overwhelming, but I'm managing. I just have to keep reminding myself that it's all for the future, right? If I can get through this, I can handle anything."
Baobhan's eyes softened with sympathy. "That's a lot of pressure, Morgan. Don't forget to take care of yourself too. It's okay to take a break and breathe."
Morgan nodded, appreciating her friend's concern. "I know, and I'm trying. But you know how it is with my dad. He's very... demanding."
Baobhan gave her a knowing look. "Demanding is putting it mildly. He's always been so strict with you. What kind of work is he making you do?"
Morgan sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's mostly paperwork, finances, and all that boring stuff. I'm doing the behind-the-scenes work for the firm. Dad wants me to understand every aspect of the business."
Baobhan's eyes widened. "That sounds like a lot of responsibility. Do you enjoy any of it?"
Morgan shrugged a hint of resignation in her voice. "Some of it's interesting, I guess. But a lot of it is just... tedious. It's not like I have a choice, though. Dad expects me to know everything inside and out."
Baobhan smiled warmly. "Sometimes I wish he'd see how amazing you are without all that pressure."
"Thanks, Baobhan. Your support means a lot to me."
Baobhan grinned. "Good. That's what friends are for. Now, let's plan that girls' night, shall we? We both could use a break."
Morgan chuckled, feeling lighter than she had in days. "Absolutely. Let's make it happen."
Edinburgh – England – 1 week later
Morgan sat at her desk at work, a neat stack of paperwork spread before her. The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated her workspace, casting warm light over the rows of numbers and figures she was meticulously analyzing. The hum of the office around her was comforting, a steady rhythm of productivity that she had grown accustomed to.
As the day progressed, a few of the workers passed by her office. Each one offered a friendly greeting, their faces lighting up with genuine smiles.
"Goodbye, Miss Morgan," one of them said, waving as he headed towards the door.
"Goodnight, Morgan!" another called, her voice cheerful.
Morgan returned their waves. "Goodnight."
The office gradually emptied, the noise level dropping as one by one, her colleagues left for the day. Morgan glanced at the clock, noting the time.
A familiar figure appeared at her door. Merlin, his coat draped over his arm, leaned against the doorframe with a concerned expression.
"Morgan, still here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You should take it easy. You've been working non-stop."
Morgan looked up from her work, her smile widening. "I'm almost done. Just a few more things to wrap up."
Merlin shook his head, a fond yet exasperated look in his eyes. "You always say that. Don't forget to take care of yourself too, okay?"
Morgan nodded. "I will. Promise."
Merlin lingered for a moment as if debating whether to say more. Finally, he sighed and straightened up. "Alright, I'll hold you to that. Have a good night, Morgan."
"Goodnight, uncle," she replied, watching as he turned and walked down the corridor, his footsteps echoing softly.
With the office now completely silent, Morgan took a deep breath and returned to her work. She swiftly scanned the numbers and figures on the pages in front of her.
The evening light gradually faded, casting long shadows across the office.
Morgan settled back into her chair, her focus sharpening as she sifted through the last few documents of the day. She flipped through the pages with practiced ease, her eyes looking at the numbers and descriptions with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times before. Her pen paused over a line, and she frowned.
The price of one of the items seemed off. It was a minor irregularity, but it caught her attention nonetheless. The discrepancy was approved, but in a company as large as theirs, even minor irregularities could hint at larger issues.
Setting the pen down, Morgan pulled the document closer, scrutinizing the details. The item in question was a batch of electronic components, and the price listed was changed last minute. She decided to investigate further.
Turning to her computer, she typed in the item number, searching through the digital files for any records related to it. The minutes ticked by, the office now illuminated only by artificial light. Morgan's search turned up nothing. There were no records, no invoices, nothing that could explain the price change.
Her frown deepened. She knew their filing system inside and out, and it was unusual for anything to be missing, especially something as important as financial records. Leaning back, she pondered her next move. Perhaps the physical files would hold the answers.
Morgan stood up and walked over to the filing cabinets, her fingers running over the labels until she found the one she was looking for. She pulled open the drawer and began to rummage through the files, flipping through folders with methodical precision.
As she dug deeper into the cabinet, her frustration grew. There were no documents related to the batch of electronic components. It was as if the records had vanished into thin air.
Determined to get to the bottom of it, she sat back down and made a few notes in her notebook, detailing the irregularity and her unsuccessful search. She knew she would have to bring this up with higher-ups in the morning. For now, though, she had done all she could.
Morgan leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. The office was eerily quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm her mind.
As she opened her eyes and looked at the clock, she realized how late it had gotten. She gathered her things, locked up the office, and stepped out of the building into the cool night air.
The irregularity was a small one, but Morgan knew better than to ignore it. The next morning, Morgan arrived at the office earlier than usual She was determined to resolve the anomaly that had troubled her the night before.
The office was quiet, the early hour leaving the space serene and undisturbed. She made her way to her desk, placed her bag down, and booted up her computer.
Morgan decided to start by checking the physical inventory. She made her way to the storage area where the batch of electronic components should have been stored. As she walked through the rows of neatly organized shelves, she kept her eyes peeled for the specific item.
Eventually, she found the section dedicated to electronic components and scanned the labels until she found the batch number in question.
To her relief, the components were there, neatly stacked and accounted for. She noted the quantity and confirmed it matched the original order. The problem, then, lay not with the physical inventory, but with the financial records.
Returning to her desk, Morgan took a deep breath and began to methodically go through the digital files once again. She searched through emails, transaction logs, and internal memos, looking for any clue that could explain the discrepancy. Hours passed, but she found nothing unusual.
Her frustration grew, but she refused to give up. She decided to take a different approach and cross-referenced the batch number with supplier invoices. As she was going through them, something caught her eye. An email thread between one of their suppliers and a junior employee, dated a few months back, mentioned a price adjustment for the same items.
Morgan's eyes narrowed as she read through the thread. The supplier informed them about an increase in price due to a surge in demand for the components, but there was no record of this adjustment in the official invoices. She printed out the email and added it to her notes.
Morgan's mind raced with possibilities. She needed more information. When she looked up the retail price of the components, her eyes widened in shock. The retail price was three times lower than what they had paid. This was more than just an oversight; something was deeply wrong.
The office was beginning to fill up with employees as the day progressed.
Hours passed as she meticulously combed through the files. Finally, she found an email from a senior executive instructing the junior employee to proceed with the transaction at a higher price. The email was vague and did not explain the inflated cost. Morgan printed the email and added it to her growing stack of notes too.
Morgan knew she needed to escalate this issue. It was no longer just about a minor discrepancy; it pointed to potential corruption or mismanagement within the company.
Determined to uncover the full extent of the irregularities, Morgan painstakingly cross-referenced invoices, compared prices, and scrutinized emails. Her eyes grew weary, but she pressed on, driven by a mix of concern and curiosity. It wasn't long before she began to notice a troubling trend. Several invoices contained items priced significantly higher than their retail value.
Morgan's heart sank as she compiled a list of these suspicious transactions. The pattern was clear—this wasn't an isolated incident. The same senior executive who had authorized the overpriced electronic components had also approved other transactions with inflated prices.
In every instance, the justification for the inflated prices was vague or nonexistent, and the instructions always came from the same higher-up.
She printed out copies of the incriminating emails and compiled a detailed report, highlighting each instance of overpricing and the associated communications. The stack of evidence grew, painting a damning picture of systematic financial misconduct.
Morgan decided to approach Merlin about the issue. She needed his guidance to navigate this troubling discovery.
When she finally spotted him, Morgan quickly approached him. "Merlin, I need to talk to you. There's something seriously wrong with our transactions."
Merlin glanced at Morgan as he swiftly sped through the office. "Morgan, I wish I could delve into this with you right now, but I've got to dash to a meeting that simply cannot wait. Your father, though, has the time to assist you. Off you go, and tell him to add a dash of fun to the day's ledger!"
Merlin's laid-back/professional attitude was a bit of a sting to Morgan, but she didn't let it ruffle her too much. With the files in her arms, she made her way to her father's office.
She reached a massive door, the wood of the door cool under her knuckles as she knocked firmly.
Uther´s gruff voice called her in. He was seated behind his large mahogany desk, his presence as imposing as ever.
"What is it?" Uther asked, looking up from his paperwork.
Morgan took a deep breath and handed him the report. "I found multiple instances of financial misconduct. Several invoices have significantly overpriced items, and the approvals all trace back to the same senior executives."
Uther's eyes scanned the report, his expression unreadable. After a tense silence, he looked up, his gaze piercing. "And what do you propose we do about this?"
"We need to investigate this executive thoroughly and hold him accountable. This is damaging to the company's finances and reputation."
Uther leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "Very well. I'll look into this. But understand, Morgan, this is a delicate matter. Keep quiet about it."
Morgan left Uther's office with a heavy heart, the weight of his unyielding gaze still lingering. Despite her determined front, a small seed of fear had been planted. Uther's reaction had been colder and more dismissive than she had hoped for. It was a reminder of his formidable presence and the consequences of challenging him.
Over a month had passed since that fateful day. Every time Morgan tried to broach the subject with her father, he would usher her into silence or deftly change the topic. The dismissal was both infuriating and disheartening. It was clear that Uther was not taking her concerns seriously, and his inaction gnawed at her.
One evening, after a particularly frustrating day at work, Morgan approached Uther in his study. The dim light cast long shadows on the walls, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. She steeled herself, determined to get answers.
"Father," she began, her voice steady but edged with resolve. "It's been over a month since I brought the financial discrepancies to your attention."
Uther looked up from his papers, his expression hardening. "Morgan, I have more pressing matters to deal with. This isn't the time."
Morgan took a step closer, her frustration bubbling over. "But it's been weeks! We can't ignore this. The integrity of our business is at stake."
Uther's eyes flashed with irritation. "Enough, Morgan. Drop it."
Morgan opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. She knew pushing him further would be futile. Defeated, she turned and left the room, her heart heavy with disappointment.
In the following days, Morgan kept a close eye on the senior executive responsible for the discrepancies. To her astonishment and dismay, she learned that he had been promoted. The news hit her like a punch to the gut. How could Uther reward someone involved in such blatant misconduct?
The realization was a bitter pill to swallow.
Morgan spent sleepless nights pondering her next move. She couldn't let this slide, but confronting Uther again felt like a losing battle. She needed to find another way to expose the truth and protect the family business from further harm. As she sat in her room, surrounded by the documents and evidence she had meticulously gathered, Morgan resolved to take matters into her own hands.
The soft glow of her laptop screen illuminated her expression. She spent countless hours going through the company's records and her notes, but now it was time to dig deeper.
Determined to uncover the truth, Morgan decided to follow the money trail. She traced the transactions back to their origins – the firm selling the components.
Slowly, she began to see a clearer picture. The overpriced components were just one part of a larger, more intricate plot. The firm and the executive were orchestrating a series of transactions to siphon money from her family's business.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she began scouring the web for more information about the firm that sold the overpriced components.
The firm had a sparse online presence, typical of private companies looking to keep a low profile.
As the results loaded, she leaned in closer, her eyes scanning the screen for any useful information. However, one piece of information stood out: the firm was co-owned by another company and an unknown individual.
"Who are you?" Morgan muttered to herself.
She clicked on the link to the co-owning company's website, hoping to find more details.
The site was polished and professional, showcasing various business ventures and partnerships. Morgan navigated to the "About Us" section, looking for any information that could lead her closer to the truth.
She sat back in her chair, rubbing her temples as she tried to recall where she had heard the firm's name before. The familiarity nagged at her, a puzzle piece just out of reach.
As she reviewed the details once more, a sudden memory flashed in her mind—her father, Uther, had mentioned this firm during one of the phone conversations she accidentally overheard at home.
"He was talking about this firm," she whispered to herself, eyes narrowing as she pieced together the fragmented memory. Her father seemed unusually guarded during that phone call.
Her heart pounded as she considered her next step. She considered asking him directly, but Uther's recent behavior made her wary. Confronting him might not yield any answers.
A more drastic solution crossed her mind: sneaking into Uther's office at home and looking through his papers.
Morgan made her decision. She would wait until Uther left the house, then she would sneak in there.
The following evening, she watched Uther from a distance as he prepared to leave for a business dinner. Her heart raced as she saw him grab his coat, and head toward the door. As soon as the sound of his car faded into the distance, Morgan sprang into action.
She moved quickly and quietly through the house, her footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floors. Reaching the office, she hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open. The room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn against the evening light. She closed the door behind her, taking a moment to steady her nerves.
Morgan approached the large mahogany desk, her fingers trembling slightly as she began to sift through the neatly organized papers. She kept an eye on the time, knowing she had a limited window before her father might return.
As she went through the files, a thought struck her. She remembered her mother used to tell her about a hidden safe behind a painting in her father's office. Uther had always been meticulous, leaving nothing to chance.
Her heart pounded as she moved towards the painting—a grand portrait of Uther himself. She hesitated for a moment, then carefully lifted it off the wall. Behind it, just as her mother had told her, was a small safe.
The safe was digital, requiring a passcode. Morgan stared at the keypad, her mind racing. What combination would her father use? It had to be something significant, something personal.
Her fingers hovered over the keypad as she thought. What was important to the father? What would he choose as a code? Her mind flashed to specific dates and names but discarded each as too simple.
She quickly typed in the numbers corresponding to her mother's birthdate and initials:
0-5-0-8-I-C-P.
Her breath caught in her throat as she waited.
The safe beeped, but it did not open. You can never be too sure.
"Cariad Am Byth,"
A story. It was a simple story her mother had told her. Uther had engraved a special message on Igraine's ring. A simple phrase in Old Welsh that symbolized their love and union.
Cariad Am Byth, meaning Love Forever.
Taking a deep breath, she typed in a combination that melded these elements: the date of her mother´s birth followed by the first three letters of the phrase in Old Welsh. The code would be 0-5-0-8-C-A-B. She hesitated, then pressed the last key.
The safe beeped, and to her immense relief, it clicked open.
Morgan carefully pulled the door open and peered inside. The contents were neatly organized—more documents, several USB drives, and a small stack of cash. She took out the documents first, her eyes scanning the pages rapidly.
Her eyes widened as she read through the papers.
Uther was not just aware of the scheme; he was actively participating in it.
The documents detailed a complex web of shell companies and offshore accounts to hide profits and evade taxes on a grand scale. The fraudulent transactions were designed to siphon money into these hidden accounts, making it appear as though the company was incurring legitimate expenses.
If the authorities were to uncover this, Uther would face severe criminal charges, potentially leading to a lengthy prison sentence.
Morgan's hands shook as she went through the papers. She had always known her father was a ruthless businessman, but this level of deceit and corruption was beyond anything she had imagined.
Morgan's hands trembled as she stared at the files spread out before her. The sheer volume of information was overwhelming, and she knew she didn't have enough time to go through it all here. She needed to move quickly; staying too long in Uther's office would arouse suspicion.
She pulled out her phone and started snapping pictures of every document. The click of the camera shutter sounded deafening in the quiet office. She tried to steady her hands, knowing that any blurry photos could be disastrous later. Her phone's memory filled rapidly.
The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. She glanced nervously at the door every few seconds, half-expecting it to burst open at any moment. Finally, she captured the last document and slipped her phone back into her pocket. She carefully placed the files back in the safe and closed it.
Before leaving, she ensured everything looked exactly as it had been before. She returned the painting to its place and took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.
Satisfied, she slipped out of the office, closing the door silently behind her.
She turned around to walk away.
But instead, she was met with her younger sister's face.
Artoria stood in the hallway, leaning casually against the wall and eating a brightly colored popsicle. Her lips and tongue were stained a vibrant blue.
Artoria glanced at her sister, her eyes wide with curiosity and innocence. "Hey, Morgan!" she chirped, her voice cheerful and slightly muffled by the popsicle.
Morgan forced a smile, trying to appear nonchalant. "Oh, hey, Artoria."
Artoria glanced at her sister, her eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. "What are you doing here, Morgan?" she asked.
"I was just, um, looking for some paperwork I needed to finish up." Morgan hoped her voice didn't betray her anxiety.
Artoria raised an eyebrow, her expression playful and inquisitive. "Paperwork? In Dad's office?" She tilted her head, studying Morgan with wide, sparkling eyes. "You usually do that stuff in your room. Are you on a secret mission or something?" She took a big bite of her popsicle, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.
Morgan swallowed hard, searching for a plausible explanation. "Well, there were some files I couldn't find in my office. I thought they might be in Dad's, so I came to check. Didn't find what I was looking for, though." She tried to sound casual, but she could feel the sweat starting to form on her forehead.
Artoria's eyes remained fixed on her sister, her curiosity undiminished. "You seem jumpy for someone just looking for files," she remarked her tone light and teasing.
Morgan shrugged, trying to downplay her nervousness. "It's just been a long day, you know? Lots of work piling up, and I'm a bit frazzled." She took a deep breath, hoping it would help calm her racing heart. "Anyway, what about you? Enjoying your popsicle break?"
Artoria nodded enthusiastically, her blue-stained lips stretching into a broad smile. "Yeah! It's super hot today, and I needed something cool. Popsicles are the best!" She took another lick, then fixed her gaze back on Morgan. "Just make sure you don't work too hard, okay? You always look so serious."
Morgan nodded, grateful for the change in subject. "I won't. Just trying to stay on top of things." She gave Artoria a quick hug, hoping to divert her sister's attention. "I'll see you later, okay?"
Artoria returned the hug, her sticky fingers leaving a faint blue mark on Morgan's shirt. "Okay! Just remember, if you ever need a popsicle buddy, I'm your girl!" She giggled again, her carefree laughter echoing in the hallway.
Morgan smiled and nodded, flashing a quick smile before hurrying away. As she walked down the hall, she couldn't shake the feeling that Artoria's innocent curiosity might lead her to ask more questions later.
Morgan walked quickly, but not too quickly, down the hall to her room. Her heart was still racing when she closed her bedroom door and locked it.
Once she was safely inside, she sank onto her bed and pulled out her phone. She began to transfer the photos to her laptop, her fingers moving with a frantic urgency.
Her room was dimly lit by the glow of her laptop screen as she began sorting through the photos.
The names of the shell companies and offshore accounts leaped off the screen. She cross-referenced these with public records, finding a tangled web of illicit transactions.
Hours passed as she meticulously examined each photo.
One company name in particular stood out: Avalon Holdings. She remembered overhearing a conversation between Uther and one of his associates about a major project involving Avalon Holdings. But she couldn't find anything about it on the internet and neither in the papers she photographed.
Edinburgh – England – at the same time
Uther was in the middle of a high-stakes business meeting when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it at first, focusing on the deal at hand, but when it buzzed again, he excused himself and stepped out of the room to check it.
A cold chill ran down his spine as he read the notification: "Safe accessed." The digital safe in his office was supposed to be impenetrable, its contents secure from prying eyes. Yet, someone had managed to open it.
The only people who knew about it were himself and... his thoughts trailed off, and his eyes widened in realization. Morgan. Of course, it was Morgan.
The documents in that safe contained incriminating evidence that could bring everything crashing down.
The documents were insurance. They were a failsafe against betrayal. If any of his associates ever tried to double-cross him or threaten his position, he would have the evidence to bring them down with him.
But now, it seemed that his daughter had turned against him. He couldn't afford to let that happen.
Uther drove his sleek black sports car down the winding road back home.
He pressed a button on the car's console, activating the hands-free phone system. After a few rings, a gruff voice answered on the other end.
"Yeah, boss?"
"We've got a situation," Uther said, his voice low and controlled. "I need you to speed up the cleaning. Get rid of any loose ends. Make sure there's nothing that can be traced back to us."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Boss, what's going on? Why the sudden rush?"
Uther's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "I've received a tip-off from an informant within the police. There's been some chatter about our activities, and they're starting to take an interest. We can't afford to take any risks."
It was a lie, of course. The real reason was Morgan and the foolish actions she could take.
"Understood, boss. We'll have it finished by tomorrow." the voice replied.
"Good. And make sure everything is done discreetly. We don't want any attention drawn our way," Uther instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Got it. We'll be careful."
Uther ended the call and let out a slow, controlled breath. His mind raced with thoughts of the documents Morgan had seen, and the potential fallout if she decided to go to the authorities. He couldn't let that happen. He needed to find a way to contain this situation, to neutralize the threat before it spiraled out of control.
Pulling into the driveway with a screech, he abruptly parked the car. Without a moment's hesitation, he stormed inside the house.
His heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway as he made a beeline for Morgan's room.
Reaching Morgan's door, he didn't bother knocking. Instead, he shoved it open with a forceful push.
*Bang*
Outskirts of Edinburgh – England – 4 months after Morgan left the Pendragon Estate
The early morning sun cast a gentle glow over the small hut near the lake. It was illuminating its weathered exterior and the surrounding foliage. The tranquility of the scene was interrupted by the arrival of a van, marked with the logo of a local utility company. Two technicians stepped out of the van.
The younger technician took a look around and couldn't shake off a chilling thought: "This is the kind of place where you could disappear, and no one would ever know."
The older technician, overhearing the comment, chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, it's just another hermit's hideout. We've got plenty of clients who prefer a quiet life away from town. It's nothing out of the ordinary." Their footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path, as they approached the door.
*Bang*
*Bang*
*Bang*
The older technician, a burly man with a grizzled beard, knocked firmly. "Hello? Is anyone home?" he called out, his voice carrying through the still air.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, from within, came a swift and emotionless response. "Wait a little bit."
The technicians exchanged glances. The younger of the two, a wiry fellow with a nervous energy, shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Well, at least someone's here," he muttered.
The door remained closed, but they could hear the faint sounds of movement from inside—footsteps, the rustle of fabric, the clink of a cup being set down. They stood in the quiet, taking in the surroundings.
The hut looks like it's been there for ages, with walls that have seen better days.
Though modest, it had an air of solitude about it. It stood nestled among trees, far from any town, and overlooking the serene lake. It was clear that whoever lived here valued their privacy.
After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open slightly, revealing a shadowed interior. The technicians' eyes widened in surprise.
Standing in the doorway was a stunningly beautiful woman in her twenties. Her long, straight white hair fell gracefully past her shoulders, framing her striking blue eyes.
She wore a black T-shirt with short sleeves and black sports shorts. The T-shirt appeared too large for her, hanging baggily over her slender frame. She looked as if she had just woken up, her expression a mix of fatigue and indifference.
The technicians were momentarily speechless, taken aback by her unexpected appearance. Finally, the bearded technician found his voice. "Excuse me, miss," he began, his voice tentative. "Are you Viviane Lefay?"
The woman, standing just inside the shadowed entrance of the hut, gave a slight nod. "Yes," she replied, her tone still carrying that same emotionless quality.
The younger technician stepped forward, trying to mask his curiosity with professionalism. "We're here to install your satellite internet," he explained. "Shouldn't take too long."
Viviane stepped aside, allowing them to enter. "Go ahead," her eyes briefly meeting theirs before drifting away as if lost in thought.
The technicians nodded, picking up the tools from their van and entering the hut. They moved inside, the bearded one offering a brief, reassuring smile as they passed her.
They moved through the small space, noticing the signs of ongoing renovation: a can of paint in the corner, a half-finished wall, and a toolbox left open.
The younger technician set down the equipment and began to assess the best spot for installation. "We'll need to set up the dish outside and run the cables through here," he explained, mostly to fill the silence.
Viviane gave a barely perceptible nod, then walked over to a small table where a few documents lay spread out. She busied herself with them, though her attention seemed distant, her thoughts elsewhere.
The technicians continued their task in relative silence, occasionally exchanging a few words about the setup. As they drilled, connected, and adjusted, Viviane remained at the table, a silent figure amidst the noise and activity.
After a while, the younger technician returned from outside and spoke up again, his tone more relaxed. "This should be a pretty good spot for the dish," he said. "You'll get a strong signal here."
Viviane looked up from her documents, her gaze briefly settling on the technician before shifting back to her work. "Thank you," she said quietly, the words sounding almost automatic.
Finally, after one and a half hours, the younger technician straightened up and wiped his brow. "All done," he announced. "You should have a stable internet connection now. Just need to test it and make sure everything's working fine."
Viviane nodded, standing up and moving to a nearby laptop. She opened it and watched as the screen flickered to life. After a few moments, a notification popped up, indicating a successful connection.
"Looks good," she said, her voice flat but polite. "Thank you."
The bearded technician offered a nod and a brief smile. "Glad we could help," he said, packing up their tools. "If you have any issues, just give us a call."
Viviane watched as they finished up, her expression unreadable. "I will," she replied, standing by the door as they made their way out.
As they left, the younger technician couldn't help but glance back one last time. "Take care, Miss Lefay," he said.
Viviane gave a slight nod "You too," she murmured, closing the door behind them.
The technicians walked back to their van, the older one shaking his head slightly. "That was... different," he said.
As they sat in, the younger one glanced back at the hut, a frown creasing his brow. "Wonder what her story is," he said quietly.
The bearded technician shrugged, his face thoughtful. "Everyone's got their reasons for wanting to be alone. Best not to pry."
With that, they drove off, leaving the lady of the lake to her quiet, solitary life.
Viviane returned to the small table after the technicians left, their van's engine sound fading into the distance. She sat down and focused on the papers she had been working on.
She tried to concentrate, but the jumble of numbers and words seemed to blur together.
After a few minutes of fruitless effort, she sighed deeply and pushed the papers aside. She needed a break. And what better break than some online surfing? It had been so long since she had access to the internet.
With a sense of both trepidation and longing, she moved to her laptop and connected to the newly installed satellite internet.
She hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Then, with a determined breath, she began to browse. She checked her emails first, sorting through the old and new messages that had accumulated during her self-imposed exile. The inbox was a mixture of mundane notifications, spam, and a few personal emails from people she had once known.
As she read through them, memories flooded back—some warm, others painful. Each message was a thread connecting her to a past she had tried to leave behind.
One email, in particular, caught her eye. It was from Baobhan Sith, her old friend from school, dated a few months back. The subject line read, "Thinking of you." Morgan hesitated, then clicked on it.
"Hey Morgan,
I know it's been a while since we last talked. I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing. Things haven't been the same without you around. I miss our chats and your advice.
If you ever feel like talking, you know where to find me. Take care of yourself.
Love, Baobhan"
The weight of her isolation, the choices she had made, and the pain she had endured pressed heavily on her. She knew she couldn't stay hidden forever, but the thought of facing the world again was daunting.
For now, she turned off her laptop and set it aside, retreating into the quiet solitude of her lakeside hut. The past was a ghost that haunted her, but she needed more time to decide how—or if—she would confront it.
Edinburgh – England – c. 8 months after Morgan left the Pendragon Estate
The sterile, brightly lit delivery room at Edinburgh Hospital buzzed with activity as doctors and nurses prepared for the imminent arrival of a new life. The atmosphere was charged with both anxiety and excitement. Monitors beeped rhythmically, and the soft hum of medical equipment filled the air.
After a few hours, in the soft serene light of the maternity ward, Artoria lay propped up against a mountain of pillows. She gazed lovingly at the beautiful baby girl cradled gently in her arms. The room was quiet except for the occasional rustle of sheets and the soft cooing of the newborn.
A soft knock on the door broke the tranquility, and Merlin stepped into the room, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Artoria and the baby. "Hey there," he greeted warmly, his voice filled with affection.
Artoria looked up, a tired but radiant smile spreading across her face. "Merlin, come in," she said, beckoning him closer. "I want you to meet someone very special."
Merlin approached the bed, his eyes full of curiosity and wonder. "Is this the little lady?" he asked, leaning in to get a closer look.
Artoria chuckled softly, the sound filled with a mix of joy and exhaustion. "Yes, Merlin, this is her." She lifted the baby slightly, adjusting her hold so Merlin could see her more clearly. The baby girl had a shock of golden hair and tiny, delicate features. She was swaddled in a soft pink blanket, her little hands peeking out as she moved slightly.
"Merlin," Artoria began, her voice playful and filled with warmth, "meet your niece. This is Mordred." She turned her gaze to the baby, her smile growing even wider. "Mordred, this is your uncle Merlin. He's going to spoil you rotten. I just know it."
Merlin gazed at the tiny bundle in Artoria's arms. He reached out tentatively, brushing a gentle finger against Mordred's cheek. "Hello, Mordred," he said softly, "I'm technically your granduncle. But yes, I plan to spoil you as much as I can."
Artoria laughed, a sound that filled the room with warmth. "I knew it," she said, her eyes twinkling. "You're already smitten."
Merlin straightened up, his eyes still fixed on the baby. "How could I not be? She's perfect." He looked back at Artoria, his expression softening. "You did a wonderful job, Artoria. She's beautiful."
Artoria nodded. "Thank you, Merlin. I couldn't have done this without your support."
Merlin shook his head, his own eyes misty. "No, Artoria. You've been the strong one. I'm just glad I could be here for you."
Artoria sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. "I just wish she was here," she said quietly, her voice filled with sadness.
Merlin's expression turned somber as he understood what she meant. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know, Artoria. I wish she was here too."
Artoria's eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them back, trying to maintain her composure. "It's just... she was always there for me, you know? Through everything. And now, even with Mordred here, I can't help but feel this emptiness where she should be.
Merlin squeezed her shoulder gently, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She loves you, Artoria. I'm sure she thinks about you every day. Maybe... maybe one day, she'll find her way back to us."
Artoria nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I hope so, Merlin. I hope so. I want Mordred to know her, to see how wonderful she is."
Over the past months, Artoria had thrown herself into the search for her sister with relentless determination. She had contacted every person Morgan had ever known, followed every lead, and left no stone unturned.
The days stretched into weeks, and the weeks into months, but there was still no sign of Morgan. It was as if she had vanished into thin air, leaving behind nothing but a trail of unanswered questions and shattered hopes.
But Artoria refused to give up. She would continue to scour every corner of the earth, till she found her.
She even began cooperating with the local police.
With her sharp deductive prowess and keen investigative skills, Artoria had managed to uncover valuable information that had helped solve several criminal cases the police had been struggling with.
Her knack for piecing together seemingly unrelated details and her unwavering commitment to justice had earned her the respect and admiration of the law enforcement community.
Just a few months back Artoria sat in the brightly lit office of the Edinburgh Police Department, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. She had been called in to discuss a potential opportunity.
As the door swung open, Detective Inspector Sherlock Holmes entered the room. He greeted Artoria with a nod before taking a seat opposite her.
"Ms. Pendragon," he began, "I'll cut straight to the chase. We've discussed it internally, and we'd like to offer you a position as a consultant for the Edinburgh Police Department."
Detective Inspector Holmes continued. "You'll have access to our resources and databases, and get paid. In return, we ask for your assistance with your unique insights and investigative skills."
"I accept," she replied without hesitation, her voice firm with resolve.
But in just a few months Artoria was forced to go on maternity leave.
After informing Artoria about it, Detective Holmes leaned forward.
"Artoria, may I ask you something personal?"
Artoria's expression tensed slightly, but she nodded. "Of course, Detective."
"I've noticed your dedication in our cases," Holmes began, his tone thoughtful. "Have you ever considered finishing school and becoming a detective? With your skills and determination, I believe you'd make an excellent addition to the force. I'd vouch for you myself."
Artoria's eyes flickered with excitement. Her breath caught in her throat. His words were stirring something deep within her. For a moment, she allowed herself to envision a different path, one where she used her experiences to help others, to seek justice for those who couldn't find it on their own.
A faint smile started playing at the corners of her lips. "You know, Detective Holmes, when I was younger, I used to devour detective stories," she began. "I was fascinated by the idea of solving mysteries, of uncovering the truth hidden beneath the surface."
Detective Holmes nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I can see why," he remarked. "There is something captivating about the allure of solving crimes, of piecing together clues to unravel the puzzle."
Artoria's smile widened as she recalled those innocent days of youthful imagination. "Exactly," she agreed. "I used to imagine myself as one of those brilliant detectives, fearlessly pursuing righteousness and bringing criminals to justice."
Detective Holmes regarded her with a sense of respect, his admiration evident in his expression. "And now here you are, on the brink of turning that childhood dream into a reality," he observed, his tone filled with encouragement. "You have the opportunity to become the detective you've always admired, to make a difference in the world."
Taking a deep breath, Artoria met his gaze. "I'm about to become a mother," she admitted her words carrying a weight of both joy and apprehension. "And as much as I want to help solve cases and make a difference, my child needs me. I want to focus on being there for them, especially in these early years."
Artoria hesitated, the memory weighing heavily on her heart as she recounted the turbulent emotions of that time. "You know detective. When I first found out about the baby," she began to open up, her voice tinged with raw honesty, "I hated it. I resented the life growing inside me. It was a constant reminder of the pain and trauma I'd endured."
Detective Holmes listened attentively, his expression compassionate as he absorbed her words without judgment.
"It wasn't until Morgan... my sister," Artoria continued, her voice faltering slightly at the mention of her sibling, "told me that the baby was a blessing in disguise. She saw hope where I only saw despair."
A pang of guilt tightened Artoria's chest as she remembered her reaction to Morgan's words, the anger and bitterness that had driven a wedge between them. "I lashed out at her," she admitted, her voice thick with remorse. "I pushed her away when all she wanted to do was help me see the light."
Artoria's words hung in the air, a somber reminder of the unresolved rift between her and her sister. "I haven't seen Morgan since then," she admitted, her voice full of regret. "I've been trying to find her. I wanted to apologize. But it's like she vanished."
Holmes regarded her with empathy. "I understand," he said gently. "It must be difficult not knowing where she is or if she's safe."
Artoria nodded, her thoughts consumed by worry for her missing sister. "It's like she fell off the face of the earth," she murmured, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. "But I won't give up on her. I'll keep searching until I find her."
"How about, when you return from your maternal leave, we'll look into it together," Holmes promised.
"Thank you, Detective," Artoria replied, a glimmer of hope lighting up her features.
"And I must say, I'm rather excited to meet the newest member of the Pendragon family. "
Holmes winked playfully. "Who knows, once the little Pendragon arrives, you might find the detective life irresistible. And I'll have you cracking cases alongside me before you know it."
Artoria smiled, warmed by his encouragement. "We'll see about that, Holmes. But for now, I will focus on bringing this little one into the world."
Author´s Notes
Hey everyone!
First off, I want to extend a massive thank you to each and every one of you. Your comments and feedback mean the world to me, and knowing that you're reading and enjoying the story fills me with so much joy. I truly appreciate all the support and enthusiasm you've shown!
I'm excited to announce that after I finish my finals, I'll be starting weekly uploads. I'll be alternating each week between this one and another fanfiction I'm working on, Crimson Tide(Azur Lane fanfic.). So, get ready for a consistent flow of new chapters and exciting developments in both stories!
At last. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this fanfiction. What do you think of the story so far? Are there specific characters, scenes, or storylines you'd like to see? Your opinions and suggestions are incredibly valuable to me, and I want to make sure I'm creating content that you love.
Thank you again for all your support, and I can't wait to share more with you soon!
Best,
OZARZ