“Lovely,” Isla mutters with disgust as she sneers at the portrait. She’s never liked my stepmother, for good reason, but now she downright hates the woman. I don’t blame Isla, though. My stepmother is awful. Like the women in fairytales that are terrible to the princesses.
“Where should we start?” Isla asks while spinning in a slow circle.
“Jessica said there was a hidden safe, so maybe start with the art and the shelves? Isn’t that where secret safes are usually hidden?” I ask, glancing at her. I know this isn’t a movie, but it feels like a scene taken straight from one.
Isla hums and walks over to the shelf.
Again, my nerves kick in. What if Jessica hadn’t been telling the truth? Was it possible that she knew I was listening to her conversation and gave Angela false information?
