Ace's point of view.
"Yes, my daughters are truly ready. Their mother, Milan, always said so. Only now do I grasp the full truth of her words."
My father's comment rang deeply after our flawless mission.
We had moved like shadows, dismantling the enemy's defenses with a skill that belied their rigorous training.
Territory after territory fell under our control.
Now, the diamond was within our grasp, yet out of reach. The vault, no larger than a briefcase, held the prize, but its security was strong: the wrong code meant detonation.
That first night back, we made no attempt to breach it. Patience dictated we wait until the following day.
Before sleep claimed me, Father sought me out, his words meant for my ears but spoken in front of the others.
He reminded me of my lifelong fascination with computation, and how my hacking abilities had became ease.
His words were a carefully chosen key, meant to unlock my confidence.
"Ace," he began, his voice firm, "I remember the text you sent, asking me to pick you up from school. You had bypassed the school's entire computer system, even your teacher's phone, just to send that message."
He spoke of feats I had accomplished at seven, memories lost in the fog of childhood.
The weight of their expectations settled on me. They yearned for a declaration, a simple "I can" or "I cannot." Instead, I retreated into the silence of sleep.
The mission's intricate strategies flowed through me effortlessly. Father's initial directive – to draw all security to a single point before our assault – was elementary.
The true anomaly was Mince, caught in the crossfire of her own sister, Helen.Despite the chaos, we each executed our roles.
When the plan that Mince would be shot by Helen came up, we were all surprised.
We were looking at each other like we misheard father.
When he further explained the strategy, and said it was the only way to get the attention of the security members, we understood, but not that relieved.
Mince wore a bulletproof vest that will save her from the bullet penetration into her abdomen.
Mince anticipating danger, she had double-layered her bulletproof vest, a sight that had drawn nervous laughter.
In the aftermath, we all got out of the curtilage, saved, except for Vesta, who bore a nasty bruise.
This morning, the air was thick with anticipation.
Mother's breakfast was a hurried affair. As I ate, I felt the collective gaze, a silent spotlight. All others were done with their meal, their attention fixed on me, the supposed key to the vault.
I had faith in my abilities, but their doubt was palpable, save for Father's unwavering belief. They likely mistook my deliberate pace for apprehension, a fear of the seemingly impenetrable lock.
My hacking skills were not in any formal setting, just the basic decoding at school. Perhaps that fueled their doubts.
The vault's security was actually mighty, designed to resist any conventional breach. But I wasn't conventional.
The family waited, their patience wearing thin.
I observed Oscar's simmering frustration, a storm about to break.
True to form, her voice sliced through the quiet. "The only reason I'm not hitting you right now is because you eat like a snail, and it's the one thing I can't stand about you."
Her anger crackled. She recounted her time at the orphanage, where speed at the table was a survival tactic – the first to finish joined those still eating. It was a stark revelation, finally explaining her frantic eating habits.
I had always attributed it to her resemblance to Father, a fellow speed-eater. But Oscar was in a league of her own.
Her words tumbled out, a torrent of frustration. She spoke of the nuns' rigid rules, the swift discipline for any deviation, even as Mother tried to interject a calming word.I felt Mince's gaze on me, a slow, unsettling sweep."What?" I asked, the question sharp. She bit back a retort, urging me to hurry
.
Then, she shifted tactics, her words suddenly laced with the allure of the prize. Diamonds. She heard tales, dreamt of their brilliance, but had never seen one. Now, the only barrier between her and that sight was my leisurely breakfast.
Her eyes locked onto mine as she finished the sentence.
Frustration tightened my chest. I sighed, a puff of disappointment."Just finish eating," she said, her voice intense, her eyes unwavering. "Then, just open the vault so I can finally see those shining stones."
Her impatience was a tangible thing, yet I refused to be rushed. They hovered, a silent pressure to swallow faster.
"It doesn't matter how small the portion is," Swiss interjected, exasperation lacing her tone. "It always takes her a damn age to finish. Don't expect anything from her while she's eating; you'll just be waiting."
Their words underscored the weight of their anticipation. I understood. We had risked everything; failure now was unthinkable.
"Right from the mansion's entrance, I was suddenly on the ground, a searing pain in my head, blood trickling down. I couldn't touch it, couldn't even rub it. I just had to play dead," Vesta recounted, her bandaged head a stark reminder of the mission's cost.
I turned to her, a weary look in my eyes. "Not this again." She met my gaze, her plea clear: "Don't fail."
The previous night, while they slept, I had worked. Under the cloak of darkness, I had carried the vault and my laptop to the living room. I navigated the labyrinthine files on my hard drive, the vault's defenses falling before my digital touch. It was surprisingly straightforward.
Once inside, I reprogrammed the lock, replacing the six-digit code with a five-letter sequence: V. E. S. T. A.
A small act of solidarity, a silent acknowledgment of her sacrifice.Hearing her words this morning spurred me to action. I finished my meal swiftly. Just so their anticipation would not give them a heart attack.
As I moved to clear my plates, my sisters descended, eager to help. In a blur, Mince placed the vault before me.
The family gathered over me, a silent semicircle, Vesta the only one absent from the immediate circle.
"Vesta," I called out. "Your turn, input your name on the keyboard". A ripple of confusion spread through their faces.
"Go ahead," I urged. She typed her name, but the vault remained stubbornly locked.
"My apologies," I said, a small smile playing on my lips. "Try again, in block letters."The click echoed in the sudden silence as the vault sprang open.