The Yes Game Ended My Survival Mission Chapter 03

The Yes Game Ended My Survival Mission Chapter 03

On Diane Cole’s birthday, Weston insisted I show up.

“My mom knows about the launch. She’s dying for us to patch things up.”

I scrolled through Instagram and found a post Diane had just made.

In the photo, a strand of pearls sat wrapped around her wrist.

The caption read:

[A gift from Sienna. I love it.]

Those were the pearls I’d bought her, a tiny “R” engraved on the inside.

Weston had let Sienna take the credit like it was hers to give.

After dinner, he brought it up again.

“Sienna’s place is getting renovated. She’s been staying at mine.”

“Clear your stuff out of the master bedroom. The guest room’s too loud from the street, and she’s a light sleeper, so she’ll take the master.”

Diane set her teacup down and cut in.

“Weston bought that house. He can let whoever he wants live there.”

Not one relative in that room thought it sounded insane.

They all just nodded along.

I set my own cup down.

“Give her the room. Everything of mine will be gone by tonight.”

“I’m not coming back after this.”

Before anyone could react, I went upstairs and opened the safe.

That was the real reason I’d shown up tonight.

I’d started suspecting there was more to the fire than anyone had told me.

Inside the safe sat the recording equipment that had been running the day it happened.

To document Wildfire while I made it, I’d set a camera in the corner of the studio to film on its own.

That camera had kept rolling the whole time the fire burned.

Later, the fire hoses wrecked the body, and Weston had just handed me the wreckage.

He’d told me there was nothing left worth saving.

I plugged the old memory card into my laptop.

Most of the files wouldn’t open. Only three photos survived.

One showed Sienna carrying a bucket of alcohol into the studio.

Another showed her hauling off the wax mold of my unfinished Wildfire.

The last one only caught half the frame.

A woman’s right hand braced against the doorframe, a ruby ring on her finger.

That was the ring Sienna got for her eighteenth birthday.

I remembered the night before the fire.

My advisor had just told me Wildfire had won the school’s one and only recommendation slot for the international jewelry exhibition.

Sienna’s piece had been cut in the final round.

That night, she’d asked if I’d give her my spot.

When I said no, she’d stared at me for a long time, something strange creeping into her face.

“The professor’s always favored you. Weston’s always taken your side too.”

“You’ve already won so many times. Why does it have to be this one you won’t let me have?”

I’d just thought she was being unreasonable.

That piece had always been mine. I’d never taken a single thing from her.

The next day, the studio caught fire.

After the accident, she’d sworn up and down she’d never even gone inside that day.

A handful of photos couldn’t prove the whole truth, but they were more than enough to blow a hole through her story.

I sealed the memory card in an evidence bag.

On my way downstairs, Weston blocked the doorway.

His eyes landed on the bag and stayed there a beat too long.

For that one second, I couldn’t read a thing on his face.

A few seconds later, he stepped aside.

He never asked what I’d found. It was like he already knew.