Page 17 of Behind These Four Walls
With that, Isla and the ever-protective Lyft driver, Kim, said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, with Isla heading to the waiting sedan, where the driver had already opened the door for her.
The other side of the gates was like entering a new world. They followed the road deeper onto the property, the guard gate and the rest of the world becoming faint behind her. The tree-lined road to the main house led a half a mile toward the actual property.
Lights from the inner grounds and sprawling $15 million mansion loomed ahead just behind the crest of the hill like sunrise, and even though Isla was not there just to return the keys she’d taken, she couldn’t deny how beautiful the estate was. It wasn’t like being on the tour buses in LA. Isla reminded herself that behind all this beauty was something bad at its core. That she was there to infiltrate the family. To insinuate herself into their good graces using whatever means necessary.
She didn’t ask questions as she took in the scenery, committing even the most minor thing to memory. The driver didn’t point out any landmarks as they drove past the staff quarters and maintenance buildings, then guest quarters—the buildings becoming more ornate and regal the closer they got to the main house, though all of it lookedfancy to Isla—the small lake and personal golf course designed by Victor himself, perfectly manicured acres of lush green lawn and shaped bushes, trails where staff would transport any guests, staff, and family members in golf carts without making conversation as they drove, remaining as serious and wordless as Secret Service. But that was okay. Because Isla Thorne had gone further and quicker than she’d anticipated. What a stroke of luck. But her work wasn’t nearly done.
She’d only made it inside.
Chapter Twelve
Isla adjusted the strap of her bag again and rubbed her damp palms over her knees as the sleek sedan slowed while it wound along the long driveway and through another set of inner gates to the main house. She’d prepared herself for what she’d see if she made it in, but she still couldn’t help the feeling of entering a whole other world. Her stomach churned with a mix of anxiety, curiosity, and anticipation. The beauty of the Corrigan property was undeniable. She looked out the window like a kid on her way to Disney World. Her eyes traced the gates that loomed in front of the car and began to open automatically, but Isla saw no guard station.
“How?” she marveled to herself because they hadn’t spoken throughout the entire drive.
“Each registered vehicle has coded access that scans automatically when the car is in range,” the driver explained, his eyes never leaving the road in front of them. “Similar to a gated community.”
Unlike the new guards back at the perimeter gates, Isla’s driver did not wear a name badge, so unless he volunteered his name, she would know him only as Mr. Driver. The car rumbled forward between more lines of trees that cast long, wavering shadows in the dimming light. Isla held her bag tighter. It was her thread to reality in this very unreal place.
As they approached, the estate’s true scale came into view, and Isla couldn’t pretend any chill. Better to get it out before she saw Hollandor any of the other Corrigans, especially Myles. Isla wondered if he’d be there too.
The actual property sat on thirteen acres. The rest of the twenty-seven stretched in a circular radius around them, most of those areas remaining untouched.
The main house was illuminated with landscape lighting and surrounded by meticulous gardens. The cobblestone drive split into a circular driveway, and in its middle was a fountain with statues she couldn’t make out just yet. The driveway was large enough to park dozens of vehicles but only had a few at the moment. Isla guessed these luxury cars were the private cars of family members, with a spare or two for drop-ins like her. She already spied Holland’s BMW gleaming as the lights bounced off it.
The car slowed, and Isla’s face was nearly pressed against the window as she caught her first real close-up glimpse of the King’s Vinings stucco-and-stone mansion. According to Google, the design was a blend of French Normandy architecture and modern luxury. Its front was grand, and it extended out in symmetrical wings on either side, which she knew wrapped around to make a square with an inner courtyard and other amenities. That was just for the family. Outside the main home, there were a building for staff housing, guesthouses with their own pool, a golf course, and a lake on the farther regions of the property that fed into a creek in the outer community. But none of that cursory research had prepared Isla for seeing it up close and personal. She couldn’t wait to tell Nat and maybe Miss Lydia all about this home of the ridiculously rich and pretty damn famous.
Before she knew it, the car door had opened, and the driver was waiting patiently for Isla to gather herself and get out. He didn’t rush her, even looked ahead of him like he didn’t notice how dumbstruck she was. He was used to this reaction and allowed her time to have it. Isla appreciated that. And this was only the outside. She didn’t know how she was going to act when she saw the inside. If she was allowed past the front door. Who knew?
“Unbelievable,” Isla muttered to herself, one foot firmly planted on the ground. She shook herself out of her stupor and got out, noticing the faint scent of flowers from the manicured hedges framing the driveway and along the mansion. The smell reminded her of the days in Daytona with Eden and Elise. And then again during a much sadder time, when only the two of them remained. Eden and Isla had sat on Eden’s mother’s lanai with glasses of lemonade in front of both, just like Elise would have served them, trying to enjoy the scent of Elise’s meticulously tended garden, which in her absence was becoming less and less cared for.
Your mom has a real thing for gardenshad been Isla’s obvious observation one day.
Eden had replied,You think? It’s one of her most precious, beautiful things.
But Eden was letting it go to waste. She had been changing since the death of her mother weeks ago. She was hardening, and the garden under the harsh Florida sun and heat was suffering for it.
Did I ever tell you where my name came from? After the Garden of Eden?Eden said after a long silence.Yeah, my mom always said that when she found out about me it was the happiest moment of her life. And when I was born, I was the most beautiful thing she and my father had ever created. She wasn’t very religious, but she remembered reading about this garden God created for the first man and woman. It was the most perfect place on earth. And she said I was the most perfect creation she’d ever made and would ever make. So she named me Eden. She said I was her Garden of Eden.Eden half laughed, half cried, fingering the delicate locket chain her mother had never taken off until her last day. It matched the delicate bracelet with the tiny key that Eden also never took off.Corny, huh?
It wasn’t corny at all. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.
The memory took her up the steps, and the double doors flung open before she had a chance to register she’d walked up herself. She had been right. The outside was one thing; the inside, entirely another.This was where traditional met modern, she thought as she was led in by one of the house staff.
Isla didn’t have a chance to admire the high ceilings and extraordinary chandelier, or the impressive curved double staircases leading up to the family’s living quarters. Expensive rugs with intricate designs softened the glass walls and reflective glass panels that gave a more sleek, edgier look. And the array of African and Black American artwork gave the home culture. This was unexpected, and Isla felt an immediate kinship, the African art reminding her of her father and his culture, which he’d tried hard to instill in her. But she couldn’t afford to think of him, or what had happened to him, now.
She had come tonight for a clear reason, because returning Holland’s keys served two purposes. The first was to connect with more of the family and find an opportunity to gain access to them. The second reason was to upload the Trojan horse malware so Rey could hitchhike into their computer system.
Chapter Thirteen
“Isla!” Holland squealed as she thundered down one of the long staircases. She launched herself at Isla as if she was five and not taller than Isla, younger, and full of more energy. Plus, she fenced, right? So the girl had power under her couture athleisure. She nearly knocked Isla over.
Isla froze, temporarily forgetting herself and nearly shoving the girl off in reflex. Isla wasn’t a hugger. Or much of a toucher. But she let Holland do just that, and she awkwardly wrapped her arms around the young Corrigan.
“Hey there, Holland,” she said hesitantly. She was muffled by Holland’s shoulder. She gave her three pats to signal time to tap out and get off. Holland didn’t seem to get the signal, so Isla gently wiggled some space for herself and pushed Holland off with as soft a touch as she could.
“You don’t know how glad I am that you’re here.” Holland’s words tumbled out in her usual rush, no different from the night before. “I didn’t even realize I lost my ID. I was so focused on not getting in trouble for the car and with getting a new phone.”
Holland had priorities, and losing something as important as her school ID and keys was apparently not one of them.