"For the last time ma'am, this certificate is real. Our records have confirmed it."
The assistant at the desk told Zara for what seemed to be the hundredth time. The poor lady had expected Zara Blake to leave after just 2 rounds of confirmation, but the stubborn heiress insisted that she didn't have a husband.
The idea of a woman denying the existence of her husband would have been absurd enough for the consultant to do further investigation, but this was not her first time handling escaped psychiatric ward patients, or cheap women who wanted to play victim and steal their partner's money.
This was why she got increasingly frustrated by the girl's presence. Had her friend not called her to take a seat at the reception area and calm down, she might've had to call security.
At least now she knew she wouldn't have to deal with her. Someone else had taken that responsibility.
But Zara was not having it.
"What do you mean I have to tag along with him Bertha?" Zara pointed an accusatory finger at her friend: "I'm still slightly angry at you for agreeing upon a contract without consulting me, and putting me in a position where I had no choice but to sign it!"
Zara clawed at the loose strands of her blonde hair. Her blue eyes—which usually mirrored inner peace and beauty—grew stormy.
Her one bargain at freedom had been completely flushed down the drain at the Bureau of Records.
To Zara's surprise, they had claimed that she was actually married, even showing her the records in their database from when the marriage certificate was created.
Zara couldn't believe her eyes, partially because she couldn't imagine how her step sisters and mother had managed to pull that off. Pulling strings within the Bureau itsel required massive political connections and wealth. Something that you could safely say most nobles did not have.
The only connection that existed was between them, a connection of wealth and power. But the real higher ups where the ones with political connections.
These people were the type to be close enough to the Prime Minister himself of Imperial City, having him change a law to fit their personal interests, or the type that could bribe anybody into their submission, even though they were law enforcers.
Those were the people with real power.
People like Kai Frost. Zara perked up as a brief thought flashed in her mind.
Could he be the one?
It would only be straightforward to assume that Kai Frost fabricated this certificate since he was one of those few people with that much power to do so, but it wouldn't make any sense.
And Zara dismissed the thought.
There was no motive behind it? What could he possibly gain from seeing her fall and then helping her rise again. Of course, powerful men like him only did things if there were gain.
Then who was it? Zara thought to herself. As much as she tried to, she couldn't wrap the entire thing round her brain without having a headache.
She needed to unravel this mystery or else her life was ruined, forever bound to the side of man for half the day.
Zara shuddered as she thought of what he could demand of her when he began to feel comfortable.
"Ma'am I think we found something that could help your case. Come have a look."
Zara and Bertha quickly rushed behind the desk and the consultant turned her desktop computer for them to see.
"You claim not to know who your husband is, correct?"
"I claim that he doesn't exist." Zara corrected.
The consultant rolled her eyes.
"Well, I just did some slight digging, and there was something a bit weird about you and your spouse's (she made air quotes) details. Something that someone could easily overlook."
"And what is that?" Zara questioned.
"Here." The consultant pointed to a section of the database: a column for home address. Zara followed her finger to the spot where her record was entered for address, and that was when she saw it.
The other addresses had good enough details for navigation, like the street name and house number, but the address of Zara's supposed marriage home only had one thing.
The name of a small town at the outskirts of Imperial City called Bay Area.
As the name would suggest, it was the side of Imperial City that had access to the open sea.
As a child, Zara had gone there on vacations with her intial family before all the step drama came in. It was her mom Emily's favourite spot to visit during the summer holidays.
And now, this record claimed she lived there, when she had never even been there as an adult.
At least she knew where she was going next for an investigation.
"Thank you." She told the consultant and the woman responded with a smile and a nod. Although, she was just happy that Zara was leaving.
"Bertha. We have to go there and check it out."
Zara had already begun to move, but Bertha was hesitating.
"Actually. A text just came in. I need to get home and finish up with a design real quick. Sorry it's an emergency."
Bertha told her. Zara sighed. She would have to do this alone then.
"Yeah it's no problem. Will meet you back at the penthouse?"
"Yeah sure"
Bertha got into her white Mercedes, the car that had brought them both there, and zoomed off.
Meanwhile, Zara was already calling an Uber. Of course, it was the one that came with the best plan: a good car, a smooth air conditioning, and soft cushioned chairs.
Even though Zara was at a loss in terms of finances, she was still capable enough to put a middle class person to shame.
Unfortunately, she had no idea that the Bay Area would be filled with people from the middle class.
And she truly was putting them to shame.
She drove round the town with her Uber, knocking on neighbourhood doors and asking for a Vasquez family. Most of the residents didn't receive her warmly, quickly giving her a once over and dismissing her like she was the most irritating thing that set foot on their doorstep.
This was because Bay Area had a grudge with
Imperiopolis, the central part of Imperial City. Imperiopolis hoarded all the nobles, resources and wealth, while Bay Area, even with its better tourism, had nothing in comparison.
The residents hated that place, and no one could've better represented it than Zara, so they instinctively hated her.
It was finally one old lady that provided Zara with a helpful reponse.
"They used to be my neighbours. We lived together in this apartment right here."
"Used to? What happened?"
Zara asked in the most polite manner that she could. She had finally got a lead and she was not going to screw it up.
"They moved out 10 years ago, all the way to Stormholt Province, even. It was a full blown relocation." The woman responded.
Zara's mind was reeling. There should have been no way that this certificate was real provided the information she had just gotten from this woman.
The original residents bearing the Vasquez name weren't even in Nexus Province. And they had left ten years ago. Zara was still a high school student then.
Or would a family be too cruel to make a certificate and just leave the country?
"I guess not." Zara thought to herself.
However, she needed to know one last thing before she called it a day.
"How old were they? The residents, I mean."
"Just a single mother and her two daughters."
The old lady replied sweetly.
Zara's mouth hung open.
However; she quickly hid her shocked expression with a smile as the woman began to show signs of worry.
"Thank you, madam." I really appreciate your help.
"Anytime sweetie."
Zara was about to turn and leave when she saw the lady's gaze lingering on her purse. Her mouth, twitched as if she was trying to speak but hesitating.
"Say that's a mighty fine purse you got there. You're from the mainland aren't ya girl?
The old lady asked and Zara squirmed. This was the part where she would be chased off her porch by some crazy dogs she had kept on a leash somewhere.
Nevertheless, she answered, mustering the most innocent face she could.
"Thank you madam.", she replied.
But the lady's gaze still lingered on the purse and Zara realised what she wanted.
"Say, you mind sparing an old lady some change. Life is tough enough with you nobles stealing our money so it's only fair if you give it."
Zara felt herself lose all respect she had gathered from this lady.
If not for the fact that she had trained herself to control her tongue, she would've replied with a sharp statement to the woman. Something like: "Not with that attitude."
But at this point, she was drained beyond measure, and if the old woman had spoken up since instead of longingly staring at her purse like a hypnotised gold digger, they would've ended this conversation much sooner.
Zara handed her 500 bucks, to which the lady did not show much appreciation.
But Zara did not care, she was already off, thinking of going home and taking a nice long nap to forget her worries.