The Millionaire's Secret

by Susan Stevens

  He had no qualms in how he had made their money. He didn’t shoot and kill people, he didn’t make choices to inject lethal amounts of medication or pull the trigger. People were inherently bad, he knew that, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, whether they dealt in legal goods or not.

  “Why did I get a media request form for Behati to be interviewed?” Rick appeared in the room at last, having shut himself away most of the night. At least, when he was working hard, Adam didn’t have to worry about him. Rick’s head was always in the game when he worked. How could he even consider not working when it clearly saved Rick from his dark thoughts? And it would provide Keith with a fortune long after they were all gone.

  “Oh, it’s just for ballet. She was often interviewed before,” Adam said, with a shrug. “She’s broken dance records, and she’s a well known name.”

  “How long have you known her?” Liam asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought this was a recent flame.”

  “I know how to use the internet, brother, believe it or not,” Adam replied, casually. “And how do you think I met her in the first place? Now, enough chatter. Mother is arriving tomorrow, we have a ball in 2 days, and I don’t think enough is done. For one, I have inside information that gold is going to go up several dollars tomorrow, so we should be taking this new found fortune and investing. Make a note to sell on Tuesday,” he looked at his brothers, expecting action. “Well, don’t just stand around.”

  “You’re a slave drive, Adam,” Liam said, at last, but followed his brother’s orders. They certainly didn’t make money by being lazy. When he was gone, Rick leaned against the mantelpiece.

  “Did you see what they want to interview her about?”

  “Hmm?” Adam asked, replacing a couch cushion. His mother did like to have things perfect, although no doubt it wouldn’t last. “No, what?”

  “Drugs in the dance world,” Rick said. “Apparently, there’s a surge of them, especially in the former soviet countries. Dancers being examples and role models and all that. Rather ironic, don’t you think, considering. Do you think that’s wise?”

  Adam paused a moment, and then his brain clicked into gear.

  “Oh my God,” he said, speaking slowly as the thoughts fell into place. “She is the most ironic person in the world to be giving that interview, isn’t she? I’m an idiot for not seeing it. Oh my God.”

  “What?” Rick asked, but he got no answer.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Yes, Adam, it’s true. But it’s once in awhile, it’s not that big of deal,” Behati smoothly lied to him on the morning of her interview. “You need to calm down.”

  “I am calm,” he replied, and indeed he was, at least on the surface. “I’m just concerned, is all.”

  “Well, you don’t need to be. And if you didn’t grow up such a boring stick in the mud, you would have done a line or two once in awhile,” Behati kissed him on the cheek. “Now, your mother is going to be here this afternoon, and the sooner I get this done, the better, so scram.”

  “Out of my own house, am I?” he asked with a faint smile. “I think I’ll stay, if you don’t mind.”

  “Suit yourself,” she shrugged, and checked her hair one more time. “Let’s go then.”

  Downstairs, in the sunroom, a camera crew was already set up and waiting for them. Behati had not let them do her makeup, insisting that she was fine. Ballerinas were known for being to do their own faces, and the makeup artist had just smiled and let her do it. Adam had to admit, she did a great job, even with shaky hands. She had lost even more weight in the past week, and he was sure she hadn’t heard a word that he said at the audition for Kulanu. But regardless of what her spaced out head and dilated eyes were in taking, she had radiated at the audition, impressing everyone. They had heard nothing yet, but he secretly hoped that she got it. Not for her, selfishly, but for himself. He realized he didn’t want her to go out into the world, not like this. He didn’t know how to address the situation, but he knew he could keep her safe if she was just close by.

  She was radiant, in her uneven skirt and high heels, her red hair a sharp contrast to her green outfit. Adam thought she looked like a Princess as she took her place under the camera lights. She certainly out shone the interviewer, who introduced herself as Amy, and was almost plain, in a brown dress and black flats.

  “Any questions, before we get ready?” Amy asked and Behati smiled easily, crossing her long legs and glancing up at Adam.

  “Nope, go ahead.”

  Keith snuck in, to stand beside his brother, a wide grin on his face. He had mostly been kept out of the spotlight, kept in school and on a good track. Despite his mischief, Adam had to admit he was turning out to be a pretty good kid. His grades were high, and he saw the world from such a different view. One day, when he was old enough, he would have an empire to take over, and Adam didn’t doubt that Keith would have made their father proud.

  Now, the teenager was shining with excitement as he watched every movement on the TV shoot.

  “Alright, let’s roll,” Amy said, putting on a TV smile as the red light went on. “Welcome to Etalk. I’m your host, Amy Porter, and we are here with Latvia’s Top ballerina, Behati Dane, in her American home. Now, Behati, you have to tell me, this is the home to the Katz Brothers, Europe’s richest family. What’s the connection there?”

  She smiled easily, as if her secret was in no danger of being exposed.

  “The Katz’s have been patrons of the arts for quite some time, and I’m honoured that they have chosen to support the Latvian National for many years. I’m currently in auditions for Kaluna theatre, for some experimental work, and so it’s a good home base.”

  “So there’s no romance?”

  Adam sucked in a breath, but she didn’t even look at him. He wondered whether she would just blurt it out, and it alarmed him to wonder if it would be so bad if she did. Then, there wouldn’t be all this sneaking around, hiding, and whispers in a corner.

  “No,” Behati replied, a twinkle in her eye and a casual laugh. “I wish there was, they are quite beautiful, aren’t they?”

  Amy laughed.

  “Their faces are what keeps the general public buying magazines like Business Insider. Now, Behati, let’s get down to the meat of this. There’s long since been a history of drug use in the dance industry, for various reasons. Dancers want to stay skinny, dancers want more energy, or they simply just want to be a part of the trend. Now, the Latvian National has been under scrutiny several times for allowing, and even encouraging drug use. What do you think about that?”

  “I think those claims are stupid,” Behati replied, and sub consciously turned her arm down. Even though the bruise from the needle was hid by her sweater, she wondered if they could see it. “The Latvian National is one of the best companies in the world, and people will say anything when they are jealous, anything to make up for their short comings. The company is made up of wonderful people who are hard working, and I’ve never known anything bad to come of it.”

  “But there are claims, Behati, that those around you are fueled by chemicals constantly. And even your own face has been splashed across the national media for it.”

  “Well,” Behati laughed but Amy wasn’t easily persuaded. She turned her attention to a television monitor that had been set up between the two of them.

  “We’ve got some pictures of you throughout your career, shall we have a look at them?”

  “Go ahead, I’ve got nothing to hide,” Behati said, but now her smile wasn’t so relaxed.

  The TV screen went completely black from its fuzz, and then images began to come up. At first, they were professional images, of a young Behati as she sailed towards the height of fame. Adam smiled at the youth in her face, the brightness in her eyes. He remembered her like that, so many years ago, with that teasing smile and that pealing laugh. They included videos of her leaping across a stage, showing great talent, from the very first day she was cast.

  But then, t
he images and videos turned to a different story, and he saw what Amy was portraying. Behati, at dark parties, with questionable material around her. Behati, losing weight, skeletal, dark bags under her eyes and bruises on her arm. Dressing rooms with bottles of alcohol in the background, and ballerinas holding themselves up.

  He saw the tabloids that he had always dismissed as lies, and he saw the evidence. The girl in front of him was a shadow of the one he had married, and he realized that if she continued down this path, she would not be here in a year, married or divorced. This wasn’t a once or twice thing; this wasn’t a social calling. He was losing her, and he was losing her fast.

  Amy’s next words, however, struck fear into his heart.

  “And now, underground sources are saying that the Katz brothers are working with Maurice Richelieu, a king pin of the American drug trade…”

  Behati’s head snapped to Adam, who’s jaw fell open. Keith choked, and turned to his brother.

  “What?”

  “Enough,” Adam said, stepping forward. Amy looked shocked that her interview had been interrupted. “Enough. This is over. Get out of my home before I have you thrown out.”

  “Mr. Katz…”

  “No! Get out,” Adam snapped. “Now! Rick!” He bellowed down the hallway. Rick should have been supervising this whole thing, but he was God knows where instead. If Rick had been watching, perhaps they would have ended this mess before it started.

  Now, the regent Katz strided into the room, looking confused as to why everyone was standing there.

  “Get them out,” Adam said. “Before I sue them for slander. Out, now.”

  Rick nodded, unquestioning as Behati rose from her chair, facing Adam.

  “Is it true?” she asked, and he grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the room. Keith tried to follow, and for the first time in his life, he shut his brother out so he could speak to Behati in private. It was never supposed to come to this, this red headed ballerina was never supposed to take such a place in his heart. But it had happened before he could stop it.

  “Don’t we all have secrets,” he snarled at her, and reached to roughly roll up her sleeve. “I could ask you the same thing, Princess.”

  She pulled away.

  “You’re working with Maurice? Adam, what the hell is wrong with you? That man is a monster!”

  “And how would you know?” he spat. “Unless you’ve also been in contact with him. For different reasons, I assume.”

  “What I do isn’t any of your business,” she replied. “And we agreed on that from day 1.”

  “And my business isn’t yours, you made that clear. What is it you are really here to take, Behati? Is it a divorce you seek because there could be money that comes with it? So much money, I imagine. Half of 10 years income is a lot.”

  “No,” she looked appalled at this. “Your fortune has never interested me, Adam.”

  He made a face.

  “Such a good and faithful wife, aren’t you. Only interested in my citizenship.”

  “Why,” she demanded. “Has this become a fight. And when did this become something it’s not?”

  “What is it not?” he asked, and she looked like she wanted to throw a chair at him.

  “This is not a real marriage, this is not a love affair. And this certainly isn’t a tough love situation. We knew those things when we went in, and you made it quite clear the whole time that you didn’t love me, that you could never love me. So why am I standing her being screamed at?”

  He sputtered at that, trying to find an answer.

  “I didn’t say that I never cared for you. And if you never cared for me, why do you care whether I’m shot in a back alley? Maurice is good money, Behati, more money than you can ever dream of. And that’s all it is, business. It’s not personal.”

  “Like this marriage,” she replied, with crossed arms.

  “Like this marriage,” he echoed, although it was less convincing.

  They stood there, their chests heaving and arms crossed for quite some time before he finally spoke again. Outside, he could hear his brothers throwing out the TV crew, Amy protesting all the way. He knew this was going to be a nightmare to handle. And not so long ago, he would have been out there with him. But at the moment, he felt his priority was in front of him, living and breathing.

  “If it’s money you need, to get help…” he started, and she glared at him.

  “I don’t need help. Aren’t you all high and mighty, suggesting I need help when it’s people like you who are helping fuel the situation.”

  “What?” this comment didn’t make any sense to him.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Adam, working with Maurice? Do you think that the bags your transport go off to some happy land with rainbows and fairies? Some land where no one exists to take it and snort it, or liquefy it into their veins? You’re bringing it to people like me, so we can have a god-damn good time and not travel half way around the world to get it. You’re not on some moral high ground, your highness, you are on the floor with the rest of us.”

  Adam choked. He hadn’t expected such a speech to come out of her. And he certainly hadn’t thought about it that way before. But it was true, wasn’t it. He hadn’t thought about where the shipments were going, or who they were going to. For all he knew, they were coming full circle and going right back into Behati’s veins.

  The thought of her exchanging money, with Maurice or any of his associates, made his skin crawl. And she didn’t have that much money to begin with, he had seen her bank accounts. He knew how much the drugs cost, which made him wonder if she was exchanging any other favours. It made him physically shiver and he felt his stomach threaten to turn over, imagining this.

  People like Maurice had made her the way she was, collapsing on bathroom floors, finding true love with needles and energy from chemicals. People like Maurice, and people like him.

  “Behati,” he said, stepping forward, his voice soft. She waived her hand.

  “Forget it.”

  “No, Behati, I…”

  Her cell phone chose that moment to ring, annoyingly. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she realized she hadn’t turned it off for the shoot. It rang again and they both looked at it, the silence between them roaring. Finally, Adam spoke.

  “Answer it.”

  She thought about not doing it, defying him just for the sake of it. But glancing at her phone, she saw that it was an American number. She wondered if it could be her supplier, with a fresh shipment. Behati snorted slightly at the thought that actually, a supplier was standing right in front of her, in a well tailored suit.

  She brought the phone to her ear, daggers in her eyes.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, can I speak to Behati please?” came a female voice.

  “This is she?” Behati said, wondering if their epic fight was going to be interrupted by a telemarketer.

  “Behati, my name is Terri Turner, I’m the casting director for Kulanu.”

  “Oh, hi,” she replied, surprised. She didn’t think the Kulanu audition had gone very well. She was so used to traditional theatre, that the experimental dance movements through her for a loop. Her soul craved performance like that, but she ached for a full two days after the audition.

  “Behati, we were all very impressed with your audition, and your resume, of course. We’ve contracted the Latvian National about your loan agreement, and we’d love to have you on stage with us for the run of the show, as our Prima Donna.”

  “Really?” she grinned, the tension disappearing from her body. “Actually?”

  “Is that a yes then?” Terri’s voice was pure and happy.

  “Yes, send me the details, but I probably accept,” Behati replied, stunned. While she knew they would be impressed with her resume, she wasn’t sure her outdated style was what they were looking for. They said their goodbyes and she turned to Adam, who was waiting patiently. “That was Kulanu. They want me as their prima donna.”


  “I suppose that means you’ll be staying here then,” he said, his body still rigid.

  “Uh…” Behati replied, having not thought that far. She felt euphoric, happy, as if everything was going to work out. She felt like she was floating on a cloud, and for once, it wasn’t about the chemicals. It was a natural high, of happiness and life.

  “Well, you’re welcome to,” he said, softening. “Congratulations, my dear.”

  They were interrupted by a cry from outside the door, and both turned.

  “Oh boys! I’m home! Where are my sons?”

  “Mother,” Adam said, and glanced at her. She stood stock still, wondering whether he wanted her to hide. “Come Behati. You thought things were bad before, you haven’t met mother yet.” And he took her wrist, and pulled her out into the hallway.

  CHAPTER 6

  Evangeline was everything that Adam had described and more. Overbearing, vain, and constantly in a struggle for power, she annoyed Behati for the moment she met her. She clearly did not approve of her oldest son being the ballerina, despite not knowing much about her. Apparently, it was enough for Evangeline to just look Behati over once and know everything about her. She had called her shameless, a hussy, trash, harlot and just about any other name in the book. It was clear that she thought Behati wasn’t good enough for her family, and that suited the ballerina just fine. They had made more progress in their divorce case. Their marriage had been 10 years after the fall of the Soviet Union, but the country was still in a process of rebirth. Their previously lost documents were starting to emerge, and it looked like, but the end of the week, they might have the proper paperwork needed, including their actual marriage certificate, to go through with a divorce. She would be free and clear of the Katz name before Kulanu went down.