Breaking Free, Loving Again -The Flash Marriage with Mr. CEO - Chapter 303
Chapter 303: Familiar handwriting.
Chapter 303: Familiar handwriting.
Arwen twisted the doorknob to push it open but unlike every other room, the door for this room didn’t open.
She tried a few times, twisting it back and forth, but no matter how she tried, the door didn’t even budge. She would have thought that the door had gotten jammed due to the infrequent use but given how new it looked, she heavily doubted that was the case.
And if that wasn’t, there only remained one possibility. The door was locked. She realized and then turned to gaze over the rest others.
Her brows drawing together in confusion. But why is only this room locked?
What’s so different about this?
The question rose in Arwen’s mind on its own, making her curious.
And it’s always known that curiosity gets the better of the people.
And she was no different.
She turned to look around, trying to think of ways to open the door.
She was about to give Mr.
Jones a call, asking him to bring her the master key when she spotted a helper around. “Excuse me,” she called without letting her walk away. The maid turned to look in her direction and then walked to her, bowing her head politely.
“Madam,” she greeted, “Do you need anything?” Arwen smiled and nodded at once.
“Yes,” she said.
“Can you go and bring me the Master Key of the house?” Neither did Arwen explain much, nor did the maid dare to ask.
She simply nodded to her orders and left to get the master key of the house. After a good few minutes, the maid returned and handed the key to Arwen. “Thank you,” Arwen said as she took the key from her and turned to look back at the door. “Madam, do you need my help?” the maid offered, but turning back to her, Arwen shook her head. “No,” she said, politely.
“I can manage on my own.
You can go first and finish your work.
I am sure earlier I interrupted you while you were doing something.” The maid shook her head.
“No, Madam.
You didn’t.
Following your orders is our duty.” Then bowing her head, she left. Once she was gone, Arwen turned to look back at the door.
Now that she has the Master Key, she doesn’t think opening the door would be a problem.
With that thought, she moved the master key to open the door and just as she did, the door made a soft sound, letting her know that it was now open. A soft smile curled her lips, and she slowly pushed the door open to enter. As she stepped in, she realized the room was slightly dark.
Her gaze turned to look towards the window, from where the light of the day was slightly seeping in, but given the thick curtains drawn together, it was not coming much to help. Walking towards the window, she drew the curtains open.
And the moment, she did, the room brightened up. Her eyes darted to look around.
And although the room was locked, she could see that it wasn’t abandoned, given how neat and tidy everything looked around.
There was no bed around which meant it wasn’t a bedroom.
There was only a study table, a few wall shelves and a cupboard in the room. Even though there seemed no purpose in the room, it still seemed to be kept with such care that it screamed importance. “Was this Aiden’s study room?” she questioned herself under her breath as she walked to the study table to see what was there.
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But except for some old high school books, there seemed nothing else.
“Seemed like he used this room when he was back in the school.
But didn’t Alfred say that he only returned to the family after his mother died?
Does that mean she left him when he was still in high school?” She deduced and realizing that her deduction could be possibly correct, she felt bad for him.
He must have been very young at that time.
How did he manage such a big loss? As she flipped open a book, her eyes caught notes written above some of the paragraphs and on the empty corners of the pages.
It seemed like a diligent effort made to understand the subject, but what surprised her was not the method, but rather the handwriting. It wasn’t Aiden’s writing for sure.
She has seen his cursive writing before.
It might have good matured with his age, but even young, she doubted it would have looked like this. On the contrary, this writing looked familiar to hers. But how was that even possible?
How could she have written these? She flipped the book and checked it.
This surely wasn’t her book.
She never read this book in her life.
When she was in high school, her books were different and if she remembered right she later went to donate them all in the orphanage. This definitely couldn’t be her book, nor could this be her writing. “Maybe this is some coincidental similarity,” she thought and mumbled to herself, but the furrow between her brows didn’t ease.
Closing the book, she looked at the desk once again and her attention turned to the drawers on the side. She opened the first one and found it empty.
She moved to the next one and there was only a few stationery kept.
She then turned to the third one.
She expected it to be also empty, but she paused when she caught a glimpse of a wood frame kept inside. Her brows raised slightly and she reached out to take it out.
Since the photo frame was kept flipped, she hadn’t seen whose photograph was there.
She was about to flip it to see when the door of the room was pushed open from outside, momentarily startling her. She looked up, only to find Mr.
Jones standing at the door, looking out of breath. “Mr.
Jones,” she asked in a slight tone of suspicion.
“Is everything alright?”
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