by M. S. Willis
Day after day, Arianna worked through her daily routine with the boys, teaching them to read, to play music, allowing them outside so they could run and play like normal children. Her freedom to roam the grounds had been given back to her through the years, and on days where it was warm and the boys had energy to expend, she would walk them down to the stream. It broke her heart every time to see them playing on the rocks, and bravely exploring the cave where they pretended a dragon lived. With sticks held in their hands like swords, they would venture into the depth of that cave, fighting an unseen force while Arianna sat on the outside, drowning in the painful memories of Connor.
Aaron concerned her. Unlike Xander, who behaved like a normal child for the most part, Aaron had a violent streak to him, one that she attempted to temper through music. Even at the age of six, when he was prone to fits of rage, she would drag him, sometimes kicking and screaming into the music room and sit him down on the bench. As soon as her fingers touched the keys, he would calm and by the time he was four, he would place his hands beside her in an effort to elicit the same music from the ivory that she daily played for him. The music she’d written for him never left the stand above the keys, and she tried in vain not to think about the man who had snuck that music out of the mansion to have it transcribed and bound into a book for the baby that arrived shortly after she’d written it.
Xander liked to play the piano as well, but he was content with sitting back and listening to Aaron and Arianna. The boys’ bond was unlike anything she’d seen. Xander and Aaron both looked out for each other even in their young age. It made her smile. There were times when they bickered like children will do, but for the most part, they protected each other, one never allowing the other to be pushed around. When one cried, the other one stood silently nearby, attempting to provide comfort by their mere presence in the room. Arianna was pleased to see that they provided each other with a sense of normality even in a place that was anything but normal.
By the time they turned five, Joseph had insisted they attend the network meetings in the ballroom. He believed that they would be made stronger if they were exposed to the dealings of the network from a young age. The first meeting left the boys shocked silent. Xander especially hated to attend, his young mind remembering what he’d seen done to his parents, to his sister, the first time he’d entered that room. It broke her heart to see them scared, utterly defenseless in a room of madmen. But when Aaron started to take on a bored expression, when he’d studiously watched the executions and the violence, and when it appeared he anticipated the death of the men condemned by Joseph, Arianna’s heart broke. She would take the boys back to the rooms following the meeting, would sing Aaron to sleep while cradling Xander. It was the only bit of light she could provide to the boys – a mother’s love.
And Joseph. She wouldn’t have believed it possible for such a bright man to fall so far into madness as he had. His punishments became ridiculously cruel as the years went along. He reveled in the pain he caused, the looks of shock and satisfaction on the faces of his men. She never knew what he would do next and the constant fear of the unknown weighed heavily on her, aging her faster than normal.
Pushing herself up from the floor, she got dressed before walking to the boys’ room to prepare them for their day. Like any day, they were difficult to wake, but once up, their energy levels exploded and they ran around the suite playing out games of cops and robbers, or pretended to be knights fighting against some unknown evil. After forcing them to sit and eat, she took their hands and led them to the music room. She allowed Xander to play first, but his interest in the instrument wasn’t as deep-seated as Aaron’s and after twenty minutes he’d had enough and chose to play with the scattered toys in the room while Aaron crawled up onto the bench and took a seat by his mother. Although his hands were still small, Aaron obviously carried her talent, having quickly learned the music and mastered an instrument as much as a young boy could. It was normal, it was good, and it was something that Joseph had started to despise.
. . .
“His features change daily, more and more I see the face of Connor. And his eyes, Joseph, have you not noticed how they’ve changed.” Emory spoke quietly, hesitant in his agreement with something Joseph had suspected for the past year and a half.
Molten grey peered down at a recent photograph of the child he called his son. A small smile shown back at him; one that curled the ends of the child’s mouth underneath a head of black hair and eyes the color of emerald. Dropping the photograph to the desk, Joseph sat back in his chair, folding his hands over each other. Every time he looked at the boy, the pride he’d had for the child dissipated and dissolved into a bitter resentment. His greatest achievement, the person that would make him immortal was not his. He knew it in his heart, in his very bones. Connor’s ghost haunted him, a man that had intended to steal his wife, who had succeeded while pretending to be a loyal man that Joseph could trust. It sickened him, angered him and fueled the insanity that threatened to consume him.
“She embarrasses you, Joseph. How many more of your men does she fuck while you’re not watching? How many of your personal guard walk the halls of your mansion, laughing to know that your wife is an unfaithful whore? She uses you and she no longer benefits you as she had before.”
Emory’s words rubbed against Joseph’s nerves, grating in their truth. Arianna was like a living ghost, an empty shell of the woman she’d been when they’d first married. Contemptuous and cold, she laid like a limp rag beneath him when he visited her at night, stood silent by his side, never appreciating the life he created for her. Picking up the photograph once again, he crumpled the image between his fingers, tossing it aside from the rage that was building in his mind.
“Where is Arianna now?” Joseph’s voice was quiet, but a dark edge hung to his words when they were spoken.
Emory smiled.
“She’s teaching the boys music, wasting their talents on something that won’t make them strong, that will only make them weak, unable to manage in a world as powerful as the one you’ve created. They’ll embarrass you eventually.”
“They embarrass me now!”
Emory sat back in his chair imitating Joseph’s posture. A look of contentment spread across his face that finally, Joseph was listening to what he had to say. “Then kill them, Arianna…and the boys. Start over with one of the other women within the network.
Joseph remained silent, thoughtful. He couldn’t kill the boys, couldn’t risk doing something that would be undisputable proof of his failed marriage, of the unfaithful nature of his wife. “No. If I do that, it will be a weakness that the men could use against me.” Sitting up, he opened a desk drawer containing the drug to which he’d become accustomed over the years. Scooping out a small dose, he prepared the drug before injecting it into his body; just enough to sooth the violent thoughts that battered at his mind.
Emory watched Joseph’s face, waited for the drug to take affect, making Joseph’s mind more malleable and ready for suggestion. When he saw the familiar haze creep into the steel grey gaze, he said, “It can be done quietly, so that nobody but those closest to you know the truth. Even then, I can lie; make up some reason why she no longer serves her purpose. The boys are at an age where she’s not needed, they are at an age where they can become weak like the parents that made them, or strong – like you.”
Smiling, Joseph sat back once more. Memories of a man who’d betrayed him flickering through his mind. “I kept Xander as a punishment to his parents. I could see the hatred they had for me in their expressions, the contempt towards a network that had fed them over many years.” He chuckled. “The look on his father’s face when I told him that his son would be raised by me, molded into the perfect soldier…”
“It was brilliant, Joseph. They’ll never rest knowing their son will become like the man they abhorred.” Emory finished the thought for Joseph, continued suggesting pure evil to a mind that was so obviously cracking. “And as f
or your wife, she’s given you nothing that she promised, but rather she’s handed you bitter lies and a child to raise that is not your own.”
“And what do you think would be a fitting punishment?”
Emory’s eyes glistened with anticipation. “I’m sure I could figure something out.”
The two men sat silently as Joseph considered Emory’s words. A decision finally settling in his thoughts he instructed, “Bring Arianna to me. I need to have to have a conversation with my wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“That’s perfect, Aaron. Very good!” Arianna hugged her son to her side after he played the song she’d taught him perfectly. Pride shown in his green eyes, accomplishment of a task he’d been attempting for over a year. In truth, it wasn’t his lack of intelligence or talent that had taken so long for him to learn – it was that his developing fingers hadn’t been long enough to play, at least until now that he’d grown enough to master the keys.
Laughter and the sound of two small hands clapping sounded behind them and they turned to see Xander sitting on the couch in the room, covered completely in toys, his small face delighted to not have to share at that moment. Picking her son up from the bench, she placed him on the floor, her back protesting against the added weight of the boy who’d grown rapidly in size. They walked hand in hand towards where Xander sat, Aaron immediately grabbing some of the toys when he approached his friend. A small grimace broke out across Xander’s face and Arianna laughed at his expression.
When the click of the door handle echoed across the walls, and when the hinges on the door creaked as it was pushed open, Arianna turned to look at the face of Emory, her eyes immediately traveling to the large, angry scar that ran from his ear to his chin; a reminder left behind by Connor on the night he’d attempted to help Arianna escape.
A sick smile spread across Emory’s face as his eyes slowly traveled between Arianna and the boys. Bringing his demented gaze back to her, he said, “Joseph would like to see you.”
Her eyes widened in surprise at the request. Joseph never asked to see her during the day and rarely did he still visit her at night. Dread crawled along her spine, but she plastered on a fake smile when she turned back to the boys. “I’ll only be gone a moment, I’m sure your father just wants to check in and see how well the two of you are doing.
Aaron’s eyes darkened, a blank expression painted across his small face when he walked to his mother and hugged around her waist, his little arms squeezing her tightly before letting her go. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead and turned to Xander to kiss him as well. Xander laughed, he was such a happy child regardless of the circumstances of his life.
Turning to Emory, Arianna nodded her head and walked out of the room, replaced by two guards to watch over the children. Their footsteps sounded rhythmically as they traveled the halls, the large doors creaking when they entered the ballroom. The room was empty and Arianna turned to Emory with a confused expression on her face. “He waits for you in his suite on the west side.” Her eyes widened impossibly more; Joseph had never allowed her into that wing since the year after they’d moved in. Her steps faltered, but Emory roughly grabbed her arm, dragging her to the doors on the opposite side of the ballroom.
When they entered the wing, her stomach roiled, fear and the remnants of morning sickness causing her insides to cramp painfully. The halls that were perfect mirrors of those in the right wing were deserted, and Arianna wondered how a group as large as the one she knew lived on this side could be completely absent.
Being led through the dead silence of the house bred more dread in her small body, her path more like a death march than a quick trip to visit Joseph.
Entering Joseph’s suite, she looked around at the alcohol bottles and half empty glasses that filled the counters, tables and shelves. She winced at how a once beautiful room that she’d decorated with loving hands had been turned into what looked more like a bachelor pad than the family home she’d envisioned. Much like the halls, Joseph’s suite was a mirror of her suite in the right wing. It was unnerving to step into a space so similar, yet so opposite to hers at the same time.
“He’s in his office.”
She didn’t look back at Emory when he spoke. She hated him more than Joseph, knew that whereas Joseph had fallen into the state of insanity, Emory had been born like that; not a single cell within his body carried goodness or purity. Squaring her shoulders, she tilted her chin up, knowing that whatever she walked into would be bad.
. . .
Joseph looked up to meet eyes with the wife who he knew had never really loved him. He questioned her motives for having married him; a woman who came from meager beginnings to find herself attached to a man who had it all. He didn’t want to believe it at first, didn’t want to acknowledge that she used him for the life he provided her. And now, with the photograph of a child that looked more like a man he’d known than himself, he had proof that there was never love in the heart of his wife for him. Anger slithered along his mind, his nerves reacting, heat saturating his skin from the rush of blood.
“Sit down, Arianna.”
She sat down, her crystal blue eyes opened wide while the skin on her brow furrowed in confusion and fear. Yes. Let her sit there quivering. If she wouldn’t love him, she would at least submit to him – she would know that her value only lies in the husband to whom she was attached. He laughed to himself, the sad truth that he’d been stupid all those years a screaming realization within his thoughts. He’d provided everything for her, had rescued her from a life where she had no one except for a cousin who’d introduced her to the better members of society – to a life she didn’t deserve. And now that the green eyes of truth shown back at him from the set of photographs that sat on his desk, Joseph accepted that she’d failed in her only duty, the only thing he’d asked of her in return.
It was a creeping embarrassment on the edges of his thoughts, the idea that through the years he’d never fathered a child with the woman who sat across from him. He thought he had, had pride in the son that he’d created. But she lied. His pride was shredded, his ego injured by the realization that he hadn’t fathered a son, that he was somehow less of a man than a lowly guard.
It ate at him. Every time he saw her face, saw the flat expanse of her stomach despite the thousands of times he’d attempted to get her pregnant. It was a painful reminder, one he wanted eradicated from his life, from his home. He imagined her laughing at him, her knowledge of his failure a subject that brought amusement and joy. His eyes took in every detail of her face and body. The years had caused lines to cross her forehead; worried markings also surrounded her eyes and mouth. Her once shimmering hair hung limply by her face, and her skin hung off her body, the once toned muscle, lost over the years. It was a shame. She’d let herself go; and it was another mark against her.
He settled into his chair thinking Emory had been correct in his assessment. She had no purpose accept as a leach that fed off his efforts and his achievements.
Emory stepped into the room, walking towards the desk, stopping once he stood at Arianna’s back.
With an expression that spoke of malice, Joseph said, “I was looking at a picture of our son this morning. It’s his most recent – I’m sure you’ve seen it.”
Arianna was silent but he saw her shoulders tense, her jaw suddenly clench at his words. It was all the proof he needed that she was aware of what he was about to say. Body language, it was the most honest thing about a person, it was the small hints that trickled from their brain to the outside. If a person knew what to look for, they would know they truth to what a man said, or the sincerity of the words they spoke. Her body language spoke of betrayal, of guilt – of fear. The fury that rolled through him was painful, his muscles clenching through his torso, his shoulders and his arms. He wanted her dead, he wanted to see the life drain from her eyes.
“Every time I look at my son, I’m reminded that the woman who was supposed to be my wife f
ucked another man. Not only did you dishonor me by fucking him, you had his child and allowed me to raise it as my own. You’ve managed to destroy me, Arianna; slowly, methodically, you’ve embarrassed me to my network and you’ve made me look like a fool for believing your lies.”
He stood up from his chair, walked around the desk and sat against the wood surface so that he was directly in front of her. “I wanted one thing, one FUCKING thing from you for everything I’ve given you. And what do you give me?! Some fake bastard son?
“Joseph…”Arianna’s voice trembled as she tried to interrupt.
“No! I do not want to hear anything you have to say. Everything that comes from that mouth of yours is a lie, a filthy fucking untruth that you use to continue taking from me.” He laughed, his rage clouding logical thought. The taste of violence covered his tongue, his desire to punish, to ridicule and condemn. Her was drunk on power, but he still craved more.
With a bored expression, he leaned back on his desk. “You’ve outgrown your use, Arianna. You’ve become nothing more than a walking reminder of how I was betrayed in my own home, that I was deceived by the one person who should have loved me the most.”
“Joseph please listen to me.” Arianna pleaded with him, moved forward to place her hands on his knees and he backhanded her in response. She fell against the chair, blood splashing out at the corner of her mouth. Her bottom lip swelled where he had struck her and a small bit of satisfaction snaked its way through his veins.
Speaking over her sobs, he continued. “I have to keep Aaron, you know. You trapped me into raising the boy, hoping to God nobody notices that he’s not mine.”
