by Rina Kent
Lucien’s condition to let go of those shares was partnering up with King Enterprises for import and export between the United Kingdom and his main factories in France.
Since I needed to get my hands on his H&H shares, I agreed. Sebastian will probably complain if he finds out, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
His reason for hating Lucien is foolish in the first place, and absolute blasphemy in the business world. If he didn’t want his wife to fall in Lucien’s hands, he shouldn’t have divorced her.
But I digress, slightly.
Now that the core pieces have fallen into place, all I have to do is sit and wait until Aurora shows up.
Harris is with me in my home office, going through data for the joint project Ethan and I have been working on for the Rhodes Conglomerate.
Sooner or later, I’ll buy him out of it. Or, more accurately, kick him out.
The problem with Ethan is that he’s too tenacious and doesn’t give up.
We’ll meet again.
His words to Aurora today play on a loop at the back of my head.
I tighten my grip around the glass of cognac, then place it on the table.
There will be no seeing her again. Ethan’s fucking nerves know no limit. How dare he get close to Aurora after everything that happened with Alicia?
Sooner or later, he’ll pay for driving her to her death, and no, the years he spent in coma don’t count. But before that, he and Aurora will remain continents apart.
I’ll make sure of it. That will be my new mission — aside from the usual one that includes squashing him.
There’s a soft knock on the door before Margot appears, carrying a tray full of appetisers and a coffee.
She puts them on the table and steps back, placing both hands over her stomach. She’s a plump woman in her mid-forties with soft features and a kind nature. Margot was never married and has no family so her entire focus is on work. “Dinner?”
“In an hour. We’ll have a guest.”
“For three?” she speaks with a slight Irish accent.
She’s been with us since Alicia was alive and was Levi and Aiden’s nanny. They certainly show her more affection than they would ever show me.
Which is fine.
Those two punks would never admit it, but it’s because of their upbringing that they are who they are today. King blood runs in their veins and they’re born to rule, not to be stomped on.
I ignore the coffee and take another sip of my cognac, letting the burn settle in. “For two.”
Margot throws a peculiar glance at Harris. He shrugs and focuses back on his tablet as if he were born with it attached to his hand.
“Do you fancy beef?” she asks me.
“I have no preferences, Margot. Just make it perfect.”
“Always.” She nods and retreats.
Am I doing this to impress Aurora? Probably. She needs to be impressed in order to be intimidated. They’re weaker and easier to handle when they’re put out of their element.
She seems to be the type who’s not easily threatened, which is fine by me. The process of subduing people is more thrilling than watching from the top. It’s what happens after their fall that bores me.
Harris slides his tablet into his leather briefcase and stands up. “I’ll be leaving as well.”
“You can have dinner here.” Since Levi moved out two years ago and Aiden followed a year after for university, Harris has most of his meals here. He also spends all-nighters sometimes. Needless to say, he has no life outside of work, which makes him efficient.
“I’ll have to decline, considering you’re having dinner for two. Last I checked, I’m not one of those two.”
“You’re being petty.”
“Me, sir?” He raises a sarcastic brow. “Never.”
“Leave.”
He smiles a little, but then his expression goes back to normal. “Sir?”
“Yes?”
He readjusts his glasses. “There are some rumours.”
“What type of rumours?” Harris does a lot of media play on my behalf, so he knows most rumours are lies. He even uses them for King Enterprises’ favour when needed, but if he mentioned it, there must be something behind it.
“In the juridical circle, there’s talk about granting Maxim Griffin a trial for parole.”
“I thought he wasn’t eligible for parole because of the nature of his crimes.”
“He’s not, but there’s a new psychotherapist on the line. Apparently, his lawyer is playing the mental health card. Or it could be new evidence.”
I plant my elbows on the table and lean forward. “Who knows about this?”
“The inner circle.”
“Your source?”
“Dr Lenin. The new psychotherapist works in his facility.”
That’s close enough to be chalked up to false rumours. Dr Lenin has no reason to lie to Harris, considering he gives him the best investments – on my behalf.
Since Aurora disappeared right after Maxim’s trial, I had to at least keep an eye on him in case she went to visit her father.
She didn’t. Not once.
Considering how she ended things with him, I’m not surprised. That woman has so much stubbornness in her, it sparks in her stormy eyes like waves. However, there’s a slightly broken quality to her, too. A vulnerability I’ve caught a glimpse of whenever Maxim’s name is mentioned.
“Keep me updated on that. And, Harris?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I need eyes on her.”
“Consider it done.” He nods again and leaves.
I rub my forefinger against my chin, contemplating where Maxim’s call for parole is coming from. Does it have to do with Aurora’s reappearance?
The image of her murky blue eyes returns to memory. The way she trembled in fear but still held her ground when I gripped her chin.
I’ve had grown men shake in front of me, yet Aurora didn’t shy away from giving me a piece of her mind. Even after she knew I had her and H&H by the throat.
Literally and figuratively.
If I choose to, I can blow her little company to irredeemable pieces.
I won’t, though.
At least, not until I have what I want from her.
I sip my cognac, letting the strong liquid burn my throat as I recall the slight twitch in those red lips while she stared up at me.
She held my gaze, I’ll give her that.
Now I’m tempted to see how far I can push her before she stops doing so.
I’m no saint. I’ve had my fair share of women after Alicia’s death, but each and every one of them were gone within the night. Harris made them all sign NDAs that ensure they’ll run the other way the moment they see me again.
This is the first time I’ll keep someone close. Not because I want her close, but because I’ll untangle her piece by each bloody piece.
Aurora Harper might be a carbon copy of my wife, but I’m beginning to see they’re nothing alike.
Clarissa – Aurora – was a wild child. She sang off tune and danced sporadically when she thought no one was watching, then hid behind Alicia’s wedding dress when people were around.
Something tells me she’s still the same. She’s hiding something, and as it happens, I’m good with riddles and wars.
Especially wars.
I stand up and stop by my glass chessboard on the coffee table. It has an unfinished game from when I played alone this morning.
Now that both Aiden and Levi are gone, I have no one to play with but myself. There’s Harris, but he’s too obsessed with his tablet to pay enough attention to chess.
Usually, I make one of my sides lose just so I can win afterwards.
Let’s say it’s a vicious cycle.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I retrieve it.
Aiden. Speak of the devil.
“Jonathan, finally.”
“Hello to you, too, son.”
“Forget about that. Why h
aven’t you been answering my calls?”
“One, you’re on your honeymoon on my island, and if I might add, you still didn’t thank me for it. Two, some of us have work to do.”
To say my relationship with my son is strained would probably be putting it lightly. He’s hated me since his mother’s death. Not that I mind. It’s his hatred for me that’s made him grow up into the man he is today.
While I do not approve of his taste in women, I have no doubt King Enterprises will be in good hands twenty or thirty years from now.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line before he speaks quietly. “Who is she?”
“Who is who?”
“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Who the fuck was that woman who looked like Alicia’s ghost? And don’t even try to tell me you don’t know everyone who appeared at the wedding.”
This is long overdue. Aiden’s been trying to reach me since the wedding, and I know it’s not because he misses me. Avoiding his question is only delaying the inevitable.
“She’s your aunt.”
“My aunt? Since when do I have an aunt?”
“You always did. Aurora is Alicia’s half-sister. She was born after an affair between your grandmother and a commoner from the North. That’s why no one likes to talk about her existence.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“Because neither Alicia nor Aurora wanted you to.”
“As if that explains everything. Why is she back now?”
That’s what I would like to find out, and I will. She’ll also tell me all about the shitstorm that went down after Maxim Griffin’s arrest.
‘I saw the devil today, darling. I think he’s coming after me.’
At first, I thought Alicia said that as a result of her hallucinations. She often woke up in the middle of the night and roamed the house, scribbling words everywhere. However, more recently, I’m starting to think that maybe there was something different going on. Maybe she did see the devil.
The look on Aurora’s face whenever I mention Maxim’s name is too similar to Alicia’s horrified expression to write it off as a coincidence. Not that I ever believe in those.
A knock sounds on the door. I check my watch. Ten minutes early. Impressive.
“I have company,” I tell Aiden and hang up before he says anything. After slipping the phone back in my pocket, I say, “Come in.”
But instead of being faced with the stormy blue eyes that look ready for trouble, my driver appears at my doorstep. His white-gloved hands lie inert at his sides and his bald head shines under the light.
“Sir.”
“What is it, Moses? Why are you here?”
“The lady sent me back.”
My fingers strangle the glass until I nearly break it. I was so sure she’d accept. She should have. All the facts point in that direction, yet she went straight against that possibility.
Well played, Aurora.
She’s taken me by surprise for the second time since her reappearance.
There will not be a third.
11
Aurora
The fact that I’m cornered doesn’t mean I'll bow down or drop to my knees.
It also doesn’t mean that I will needlessly provoke a much stronger opponent than me. My survival instinct has taught me to pick my battles and learn my worth.
Just because I collapsed once doesn’t mean I will allow myself to be broken again.
So tonight, I sent away Jonathan’s driver. I also didn’t give him a reason. I have no doubt his tyrant boss will not be pleased. I just hope he doesn’t take it out on him or something.
It’s not a vain provocation. It’s my way to tell Jonathan with no words that he doesn’t get to order me around.
I might be willing to do this, but it will be on my terms and my terms alone.
I step out of my flat and lock the door. The cold air from the corridor creeps into my bones, despite the beige coat that I’m wearing over my black knee-length dress. The one I reserve for funerals.
My face is makeup-free and I spent no effort in being presentable.
Screw Jonathan. I’ll never get done up for him.
Not only did that tyrant push me into a hole, but he’s also burying me alive.
Layla still insists on starting anew; however, my decision has been made. I’ll play Jonathan’s game, but unlike what he plans, I won’t be the one coming out of this in pieces.
He broke my sister beyond repair and if he thinks he can do the same to me, he has a surprise waiting.
I’m the wrong sister to come after.
Where Alicia was soft and caring, I’m hard and unfeeling.
Since I was a kid, I’ve learnt to build stone around my heart because that thing will only lead me to doom. It will only push me into a path filled with wires and vacant eyes and…duct tape.
So much fucking duct tape.
I shake my head as I take the lift down.
I promised myself not to think about that time again. I’m not Clarissa anymore.
Clarissa is buried with those vacant eyes.
“Ms Harper,” our building's concierge calls my name.
He’s a short bald man with bushy brows and a beer belly. His cockney accent is noticeable when he speaks. He also always watches the Premier League games on the hall’s TV with Shelby, the old man who resides next door to me.
When Layla and I first started out, I used to rent a room in a dangerous town in Eastern London. As soon as I could afford to, I moved into this building. The security is brilliant and most of the tenants are businessmen, lawyers, and doctors. The location is safer as well.
“Good evening, Paul. Shelby.”
The concierge nods and stands up, his attention temporarily away from the game. Shelby doesn’t even acknowledge my presence, deeply focused on the TV screen. Not that he ever returns my greetings. Since we moved in almost at the same time, I always try to be friendly, but it’s rarely reciprocated.
Paul reaches behind the counter and retrieves a packet. “This came for you.”
“Thank you, Paul.” I take the small wooden box. I wonder what it could be. It’s not large enough to be the new notebooks I ordered online.
As soon as I’m in my car, I check the box. Weird. My name and address is on there, but the sender’s isn’t.
I shake it and hear a faint sound coming from inside. When I open it, I find a flash drive.
That’s all.
A flash drive.
Along with a note printed in a computer-generated font.
PLAY ME.
Curiosity gets the better of me, so I plug it into my car and hit Play.
At first, there’s no sound and I’m about to chalk this up to a prank or something. Then I hear someone breathing and I freeze as a soft voice follows.
Alicia.
Oh my God.
It’s Alicia!
“Hey, Claire. If you get this, it means I’m no longer with you. I debated about whether to leave you this, but I decided that I need to warn you. I need to protect you like I wasn’t able to when I was alive. Claire, baby sis, someone is trying to kill me and I probably will die. I —"
The recording is cut off.
I hit Play and Forward, but it cuts off at the same point every time. I press the player again and again, my fingers shaking.
Damn it. A whole body shudder grips me, and tingles erupt all over my skin at the words I heard straight out of my sister’s mouth.
Someone was trying to kill Alicia.
I knew it. I knew that her death was suspicious.
Now, I have to bring my sister justice.
Just like I did with those vacant eyes.
The moment I’m in front of the King mansion, the metal gate automatically opens like in some horror film.
I drive inside, watching my surroundings as if something or someone will jump me.
The silence of the night is deafening as I slowly go down the road that’s faintly lit by tall stree
t lamps.
A fountain sits in the middle of the garden with imposing grandiose. There’s a statue of an angel pouring water from a jar as the virgin Mary holds him at a tilted angle.
I hit the brakes, staring with wild eyes of the statues. Both the woman and the angel are crying, their expressions wrenched.
I touch my watch, the one Alicia gave me as a present. That same image is engraved on the back of it.
This can’t be a coincidence. There must’ve been something she wanted to tell me. Something that has to do with crying angels and the person who was after her life.
A shiver creeps down my spine as I hit the gas. I don’t stop until I’m parked outside Jonathan’s house.
Inhaling deeply, I step out of my car and stand in front of a large wooden door that appears ancient but elegant with an ornamental design that looks handmade. Not that it should be a surprise, considering this is the tyrant’s residence.
The mansion stretches across a vast piece of land, accentuated by towers on the eastern and western sides. It’s like a glasshouse from the amount of glass visible. Tall windows occupy the three floors and none of them have lights on.
That’s not creepy at all.
This will be the first time I’ve stepped foot into Jonathan’s house. After all, Alicia was the one who came to find me when I used to live in Leeds, not the other way around. The only two times she brought me to London was after Mum’s funeral and during her wedding, and that didn’t happen here. I think it was at her father’s house.
The door opens on its own. Again.
I nearly jump when a petite woman appears at the entrance in utter silence. She’s wearing a black skirt, a white shirt, and matching apron. Her brown hair is held in a stiff bun at the back of her head.
“Good evening, Miss,” she speaks with an Irish lilt. “Mr King is expecting you in the dining room.”
Of course he is.
She motions at my coat and I shrug it off, then awkwardly give it to her. I’m not used to people serving me, considering I was forced to fend for myself since I was sixteen.
