by Amarie Avant
“We will figure this out,” Liam told his longest friend. Her anger melted as he pulled her into an embrace. She began to reason with him. “Let’s just go back to the day before yesterday, the day before you heard your parents argue.” She put her hands to the back of his neck and caressed his favorite spot. “I’ll forget all about Charlene.”
Liam felt her search his eyes, but he gazed straight through her. Not seeing anything, mind consumed with how to fix this. Yes, he needed to fix this. Brain working in overdrive, Liam thought about how they’d deal with the situation. Just give me time to think… He watched as people meandered in and out of the hotel, some with a content smile, as if departing to home after vacation. Some guests were blissfully commencing a new vacation. Then there was them.
~~~
When Liam used the hotel key card to open the suite, he was not expecting his father or mother to be sitting on the loveseat in the living room. Both appeared exhausted.
Elise unfastened the top pearl button of her blouse, softening her appearance. She stood and moved toward her stiff-legged son.
“Oh, Liam, what have you been up to?” Elise embraced him. He didn’t return her hug.
“Why are you here?” Liam moved her arms from around him.
With dramatically big, green eyes, Elise recoiled from her son’s cold reaction. Reclaiming her position next to Jonathan, she took his hand–had to show an alliance. She had to save the new legacy from…from himself. Had her papa not completed their training? Had Liam not been molded into the image of perfection? Into the image of Pierre? Mouth tensed, her pearly white teeth clamped down on her bottom lip so as not to show any further anxiety.
She loved Liam more than anything; the truth perched at the tip of her tongue. And then disappointing Pierre flashed before her eyes.
There's no disappointing Papa. I'm just a worried mother. That is all.
Elise tried to caress her son’s jaw, but he swatted her touch. A mini heart attack clutched her heart. She detested calling her son the legacy, but Papa got what he wanted. Or so, Pierre did before Liam collided with Raven.
“Liam, please,” Elise said. “You…disappeared.”
“Disappeared? How does one disappear? Actually, isn’t it odd, you’re my parents but I don’t live with you? Besides, you cut me off. I thought you both were through with me.”
She held her tongue instead of slapping the idiocrasy off her son’s face. Through with him? A Delacroix? No, she’d allowed him time to vent. Evidently Liam didn’t understand her generosity in offering him ample time to grow tired of Raven. She’d never truly hated the girl. If Raven hadn’t associated with Liam, there’d be no ill will on Elise’s part. If he continues with the madness, I’ll have to consult with Papa. Then they'll all know the truth about Jonathan…
A lump formed in her throat. “You are my child, Liam. You will always be my son. There is no washing my hands of you.” Liam gave her an apathetic glare. Then he looked through his jaded mother, and then at his father. Jonathan had that annoying smug look on his face, but any display of emotion identified that his father hadn’t disappeared into the many facetious corners of his mind. Jonathan was in the here and now, and he was pissed off about it.
“The courier showed proof you received your check,” Liam said to his father.
“Humph. I signed said proof, and then ripped the severance check to shreds. You shouldn’t deal with that amount of money…” The words slipped out before he was able to catch them. He was still ashamed, knowing that Pierre was sending his wife money every month!
Elise stopped herself short of rolling her eyes. She’d gotten her portion, too. The check was comical, though if not as much, more than a poor man’s lifetime income.
“Should I step out?” Raven stood in the door. They turned to stare at her as if finally noticing the shocked girl. Elise held onto the need to frown. I should have gotten rid of you years ago! She started to back away into the hallway, but Liam took her arm, preventing her escape.
“No. Everyone is going to sit. Dad, you start talking, because all of this mess starts with you!” Liam pulled Raven to the small table and chairs.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you!” Jonathan frowned at his son. “I’m still your father. I do not like your attitude!”
“Yes. We both owe him an explanation, Jonathan,” Elise interjected. Yes, this was the part where the Delacroix in her governed. Her good-for-nothing husband had only served two purposes in life; two very imperative purposes of which he never knew. People were like chess pieces, Papa had always said, set them up correctly, and they’d follow your lead. Just being in her son’s presence at this instant hurt her to her core, but she had to do it. For his sake.
Jonathan huffed as his wife endeavored to play the “good” cop. “I was dating Charlene–”
“We learned that from Charlene,” Liam said. “Tell us something we don’t know.”
“Let me explain. I was in love with Charlene for years. I didn’t cheat on her…until your mother came to town. Charlene and I were going to leave together, but…”
Elise closed her eyes, squirming in her seat. Occasionally, no matter how well the game had been orchestrated, her emotions slithered out of nowhere. In her younger years, Papa had attempted to train sentimentality in her favor, yet here Elise was, concerned for Liam instead of the greater good—The Delacroixs.
“You’re off subject,” Liam cut his father off again, bringing Elise back to attention. “I’m not interested in a love triangle. I only want one thing from you, then I’m through with the both of you! Charlene says that you might be Raven’s father. Are you?” His heartbeat slowed.
“I might be,” Jonathan said as three pairs of eyes pierced into his body.
Her lips set. There’d be no need to smile now. Jonathan had just sealed her son’s fate. Elise’s own secrets were safe. There’d be no need for familial intervention.
CHAPTER 22
The small town went about their daily lives while Raven’s life was at a pause. She had parted ways with Liam’s parents at the airport. He took her home in silence. As he drove, she kept her face toward the window, watching the world go by. Liam carried her suitcase to the porch, but never looked her in the eye or tried to kiss her good-bye.
For the next couple of days, Raven waited patiently for her mother to call about Otis, though her gut told her Charlene wasn’t going to make good on her promise. In the meantime, she prepared for her high school graduation and waited for the paternity test between herself and Jonathan. For the past two months, her life was consumed with learning about her paternal lineage. The last thing she wanted to learn was that Jonathan was her father. That would mean an end to her relationship with Liam as she knew it. Best friend. Lover. To be the half-sister of the man she loved and having to look into his face for the rest of her life without being able to pursue that love made her feel empty. Charlene had snatched a piece of her soul away.
The alternative? To be the daughter of a psychopathic rapist. Do I have his striking blue eyes?
At this point, it was either gouge out her eyes or cut out her heart! Be the rapist’s child or be related to the man she loved.
She felt too humiliated to tell Annette about her mixed emotions. So far, Annette spent most of her time at the hospital. When she came home after Raven arrived from L.A., they didn’t do much talking about the visit with Charlene. It was evident that she wanted to ask more questions. Instead, she had listened to Raven talk about meeting her mother and the paternity test. Raven’s body had been frozen while she spoke about the trip. Then Annette had good news. The pneumonia has passed, and the doctor was hopeful that Otis might be strong enough to start radiation therapy soon. Hopeful.
That day she picked up her phone to call Liam, but hung up before it had the chance to connect. They hadn’t seen each other since returning from California. He hadn’t called, nor had he left any romantic songs on her voicemail like usual. During the last week of schoo
l, she hadn’t even put her cell phone on silent. It never rang.
CHAPTER 23
Pierre Delacroix beheld the lush green view from the window of his Gulf-stream jet as it prepared to land. Elise had called him from Los Angeles a few days ago. The investment board of the Delacroix Corporation was in a dilemma, and he wasn’t his usual confident self. He wanted to tell his daughter to just come home and send his grandson back to France. Forget all about that no-good husband of hers. Elise wasn’t being as receptive as normal. Trouble was brewing in North Carolina, and he’d be damned if his wayward daughter believed so much in herself. Elise wasn't fit to handle this situation herself. He’d send someone, but Elise was the overseer of his legacy.
Yes, I’ll force Elise to leave the fool. Liam will come willingly, of course. Jonathan wasn’t competent as a lawyer, anyhow. To make matters worse, Jonathan was ruining his image. Pierre heard from various business partners he’d been gracious enough to send his son-in-law’s way for business, that Jonathan was cheating on Elise. He would deal with that soon. Besides, he had important business with his grandson, and forcing Liam to move to Paris wouldn’t help his legacy.
The legacy had to act on free choice. With a dose of persuasion, he planned on returning to the north of France with his grandson by the end of the week. He hadn’t molded the boy for years for nothing. Bringing him home had always been in the cards.
Pierre unstrapped his seat belt, determined that Liam would be the son he never had. Liam would be better than the son-in-law he did have. Liam, will be my Number One. Pierre grinned. He’d let Elise think he was coming solely to help her with her “little issues.” Anything she currently dealt with couldn’t be that important, could it?
The Lemaître’s chauffeur was already on site with the family–technically, Pierre’s–Phantom. His personal butler had his luggage in the trunk of the Rolls Royce before he stepped foot off the jet.
His first plan of action was to talk with that no-good Jonathan, give the guy a little scare. If only he’d left Elise in Paris when coming to visit his college buddy George. It’s too late to admit regret. We never admit regret now, do we, Pierre? Pierre sighed. His conscious was correct, as always.
When he arrived at the mansion that he had built for his daughter, Elise was in the living room waiting. The “talk” with Jonathan would have to wait. She bestowed him with kisses and a hearty hug, looking as beautiful as ever. For a moment, he was transported back to Paris. Elise was a toddler, blunt-cut platinum blonde hair to her chin, framing an angelic smile. She’d never been angelic to anyone but him; not the maids, her many au pairs, not even her mother. And yet, she had a smile that brightened her porcelain skin. She wore pink fluffy pajamas, the ones with enclosed feet. How adorable. She’d smile, and those green eyes would take his breath away every time he came home from a business trip or a vacation with one of his many mistresses.
Yet, now, his daughter didn’t hold him in such reverie. Though she hid it well, Pierre detected a bit of worry. Worry as to why her father made the impromptu visit. And did he also sense fear, a minute sense of fear?
~~~
“My darling little girl, I come bearing gifts.” Snapping his fingers, Pierre signaled for his butler. The butler placed the luggage on posh carpet and stood at attention, white-gloved hands holding a cherry oak box. With a fifty-thousand-dollar veneer smile, Pierre showed his daughter his latest antique discovery.
“Oh, Papa.” Elise gave him a blank stare. I have more important things to worry about. Unable to stop herself, Elise inquired, “What are those distasteful rings in that gaudy container?”
“They’re spoon rings that date back to the early 1800s from the King of England. Do you see the authentic family crest?” Pierre pointed to the design. “Servants stole silverware to construct their own wedding rings. Suppose I should mention their worth?”
Elise folded her arms.
Frowning, he waved to the butler to take away the box immediately.
She signaled for the double doors. “We must talk privately, Papa.”
Pierre looked around. There was no one in sight, at least not besides his butler. Though each of his servants signed a confidentially clause, written in blood, Pierre nodded. The butler pardoned himself, as Pierre took a seat on a French Louis XVI walnut chair.
“Papa, we have a problem.” Elise played with the pearls of her necklace.
“It’s the girl,” he stated knowingly.
“How’d you…” Elise’s throat constricted, she attempted the tiniest gulp so as not to let on how imperative the situation was.
“Raven Shaw. My grandson adored her, he mentioned her on numerous occasions as a child. Estella had a hard time persuading him not to call her, when you first brought him to me. The maids were advised not to mail the countless letters addressed to her, and…” Pierre rubbed his thumb against his lapel. “Should I have—”
“No! Don’t you dare arrange anything of the sort. Papa, it’s puppy love,” Elise again tried to downplay the situation. She’d heard the whispers before, about her not having a heart. Fuck it they were right, but not regarding her son. She wouldn’t allow her father to rid Liam of Raven indefinitely. “Raven is a child, murdering her isn’t—”
“And Liam is my legacy!” Pierre’s fist slammed down onto the pillar beside him. The crystal vase atop the pillar went clattering, yet didn’t crash to the floor.
Elise recoiled like the wayward juvenile she once was, he composed himself. “I understand that Liam is bullheaded, like you. He’ll need a level of independence before fulfilling his duties, which has obviously been granted, seeing that I allowed him to return to the States! One day, he’d like to head the D-Hotel Corporation, I admire that. The architectural design, the makings of tranquility have always made this portion of our businesses a delight. No little whore with money-signs in her eyes is going to force my legacy to deviate from his path!”
But Liam is smart. Elise knew that one day Liam would find out of her murder, it was a given. You don’t become a powerful entity without exhausting the competition or, those who slow you down rather. You wouldn’t allow me to be close to Liam, while raising him, but my son won’t forgive me of this, that’s unallowable.
“Papa, I implore you to listen to me,” she said. Her thoughts of losing the only son she had and loved evident in her eyes. She knew her father didn’t operate on emotions. But had faith that Pierre gave a damn about her, instead of some idiotic legacy.
“Listen to me, please. Liam is the apple of your eye.” Her own eyes glistened with tears, but it had been years since she cried, and even more since she had to use tears to her defense. “Liam is your legacy. He is not becoming your legacy. You have worked so very well with him, Papa. I have another way…”
Pierre listened intently. It was indeed a very big problem; it had the potential of ruining their family name. Scandal like this would be front page on gossip magazines that rivaled Delacroix Communications. He would have to talk to Jonathan at once.
~~~
Yesterday, Elise hadn’t been entirely truthful with her father. She’d mentioned Jonathan possibly being Raven’s father. As persuaded, Pierre connected the dots of a very sordid affair. Yet, the only wrong Liam had done was love someone beneath him. There were no issues with them being related.
Years ago, she’d set a plan in action so it would appear that Jonathan was the father of her son, Liam.
Liam was not a Lemaître. But he was Delacroix, through and through.
The boy was a lover just like his father–his real father, Zane Anderson.
Zane was an Aboriginal singer from Australian, on tour in Paris. The most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. They fucked quick, hard, and just as the secret affair launched, the very married with guitar and hand, and sultry voice, Zane swept out of the teenage Elise’s life. Though she never saw him again, her soul fed off those memories.
Almost two months later, with a dose of morning sickness, Elise became
worried. Though her father owned many of the gossip magazines in Paris, his competition always had a field day whenever she did anything wrong. At the age of thirteen, there were shots of Elise drinking and snorting coke at a pub in London. It was on the first page of the gossip magazines rivalling Delacroix Communications. She was spotted dancing on tables, high as a kite in a Russian nightclub at the age of fifteen that was front page news, also. Her family sought blood for each captured indiscretion. Elise didn’t want Zane’s head on a platter at Pierre’s bidding, or her father forcing an affluent young man to be her mate. Or worse, no Liam at all. In a world full of maids, a supermodel mother, an ever traveling father, she only had love when throwing cash around. Liam would be the first person who loved her unconditionally.
Pregnant, Elise noticed Jonathan Lemaître, the spitting image of Zane Anderson, with his family picture framed in Pierre’s office. It was next to an old picture of both their fathers in college; she remembered her father’s talk about his old friend, George. Pierre had an altruistic nature. George hadn’t made much of himself after college, well, besides small town politics. Her father helped his old friend. Elise helped remove all obstacles while helping herself to his son.
~~~
Pierre said he’d spoken with Jonathan, and though Elise knew not the specifics, it would seem that everything worked out fine. Sitting at the vanity in her master suite, Elise determined it was time to be productive. The Brinton Museum Annual Gala had Elise’s name all over it, which meant it must be perfect.
“Lucinda!” Elise snapped, applying blush to a porcelain-carved cheekbone.
The maid was at the door frame within seconds. “Yes, ma’am?” She gasped for air.
“Go to the attic and bring me those spoon rings.”
The spoon rings that her father brought from England made for a great art subsection. The image of her many friends commending her made a genuine smile perk the edges of her thin lips. The maid scurried away, only to return in record time with the lacquered box. Lucinda’s eyes were guilty as sin as she opened it.
