Contains strong language, please be advised.
Daphne has always been a perfectionist. “There are two sides to a person.” She would often tell people. “The perfect and the imperfect.”
“Is this your perfect side?”
“Ha,” Daphne would laugh her signature bell laugh to get out of answering the question.
Now, at a quarter after eight in the morning, Daphne, the normally dressed and made-up Daphne, is dragging her feet out of her bedroom, down the hall to the door. “All white all white,” she meant “alright, alright,” but with her retainers in her mouth, her words came out garbled. “I-a comin’.”
She groans, stop pounding on my door. This better be an emergency or I’ll never forgive the asshole.
She wrenches open door and found herself face to chest with an olive skin bald guy. Before neither of them can get a word out, a glass-shattering scream erupts from Daphne and she slams the door shut. The second she slammed the door, she slaps both hand over her mouth as her eyes grows two sizes. Who the hell is that?
Slowly, she moves her hands from her mouth. Okay, deep breath, now. One, two, three, four, five…
When her hands are no longer shaking, she removes and pockets her retainers and quickly runs her fingers through her tangled hair.
Knock, knock, knock.
Now, she’s ready.
This time, instead of olive skin bald guy, she finds herself face to face with a stubby old man with white thin hair and a grumpy attitude. “Daphne Waters?”
“Yes?” Daphne answers.
“I’m here to pick you up to the Millionaire’s Mansion.”
“Wait, that’s real?”
Bloop, Daphne had rolled her eyes when she received the email the day before. She was in the middle of a pedicure. “Blech, an email, who emails anymore?” Swiping her unlock her phone, she opened the email – Subject: Congratulations!!!
“Congratulations to what?” She scanned the email and tapped the trash can. “Del-ete,” she dragged the word into two syllables.
“Yes, that email is very real,” Baldy says, zapping Daphne back to reality, and fishes a pocket watch from the breast pocket of his suit. Just how old is this guy? Daphne grimaces. “Time is of the essence, we must go.”
Daphne lifts her head with an air of authority, “give me 30 minutes.”
“Sorry, don’t have the time. We must go now.”
Theme: The Mystery of the Millionaire Mansion
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