by Marian Tee
Perfect, Silas thought, and if his plans would proceed without fail, this goddess and all her money would be his.
Straightening, he walked towards Kalliope, and in what he hoped was a hard, authoritative voice, he said, “I asked you a question, Ms. Antoniou.”
Kalliope slowly turned towards him, and her large, violet, all-seeing eyes focused on his face.
Silas could feel himself flushing under the girl’s gaze. It was as if she knew exactly what he was planning. Which was rubbish, the doctor told himself. He had been exceptionally careful, and never once had he slipped in the presence of Mila Antoniou when she was still alive. No one knew that he had unintentionally learned the truth while listening to the old woman’s maudlin ramblings when she was under the power of heavy sedatives. From there, it had been ludicrously easy to confirm the facts. Although all files about Kalliope’s past and her medical history had been destroyed, people’s memories remained, and those memories could always be bought.
Silas grimaced at the thought of how much he had paid for those memories. Half of his life savings blown away, but he had to think of it as an investment he could recoup, the doctor comforted himself.
When his gaze returned to Kalliope, the 18-year-old girl said in an exquisite lilting voice, “No.”
Silas was confused, having forgotten what he had asked. “No, what?”
Her violet eyes unblinking and steady on his face, she said clearly, “No, I wasn’t listening to you. I don’t like listening to foolish talk.” Her voice took on a patient note. “I told you that already, didn’t I, Dr. Korba?”
Silas could feel himself flushing at the heiress’ words. “Y-you mustn’t speak to me that way,” he managed to bluster even though he was more humiliated than furious. There was just something about the way Kalliope Antoniou looked and talked that made one feel like he was facing an angel. A real angel, one that hadn’t sinned and never would – how could anyone lie to an angel?
The heiress’ head inclined to the side, a puzzled look on her face. “What way, Dr. Silas?”
She really was mad, Silas told himself. She had no sense of propriety, no sense of right and wrong. If he didn’t do his duty by intervening, she could be completely out of touch with reality and maybe even end up killing herself or someone else.
Ultimately, he would be doing Kalliope and the world a great favor by taking her under his wings. The thought made the doctor unconsciously puff his chest out and condescension turn his voice oily when he said, “Never mind that.” He smiled at Kalliope. “Even though your grandmother has unfortunately departed this world, I want you to know that you are not completely alone.”
Kalliope’s violet eyes blinked, once. “How can I be alone when I have the entire staff with me, Dr. Silas?”
The doctor’s laugh was high-pitched. “I don’t mean just physical companionship, Ms. Antoniou. I meant that with Mila Antoniou gone, who will be there to take care of you?” He paused before sliding the first knife into her back, saying, “The staff is paid to cater to your needs, but they don’t love you.” Every word was calculated to poison, the way only people born with the capacity to be treacherous could. “I hope you didn’t fool yourself into thinking they have gradually come to care for you just because of the years you’ve spent together?”
Kalliope didn’t speak, but Silas observed in satisfaction that the young woman now sat tensely on the sofa, her back ramrod straight and her elegant fingers curled into fists on her lap.
“You’re an exceptionally intelligent girl,” he murmured. “You know I’m saying the truth, don’t you, Kalliope? May I call you that—”
“No.”
The doctor started at the girl’s cold voice, and when he glanced at her, he almost found himself rearing back at the fierce intensity in her violet eyes. A shiver ran through him, and he suddenly realized that this girl would be more than happy to dance on his grave.
She disliked him that much, Silas thought, and this angered and offended Silas’ great pride so that it pushed him to reveal his inner emotions for the first time. “Don’t start putting on airs,” he said nastily, “when we both know who you were before Mila Antoniou dressed you in jewels and furs.”
Kalliope’s expressionless face didn’t alter at the doctor’s outburst, and her voice was mild when she said, “I don’t own any jewelry or fur, Dr. Korba.” She had only meant to correct the doctor’s misassumption about her wardrobe, but it only seemed to goad him further.
“You think you don’t deserve someone like me, don’t you?” Silas accused.
Since Kalliope couldn’t lie, she said simply, “Yes.” This time, the doctor looked like he wanted to kill her.
Throughout his years of being a physician to Greece’s rich and famous, Silas had struggled with insecurities fed by his greed and envy. The more he saw of their wealth, the deeper his sense of injustice became. He had every right to be as rich and powerful as all of them were. The only difference between them was that his parents had been born poor and theirs were not, and this had never been truer than with Kalliope.
If not for Antoniou blood running through her, Silas thought angrily, she would have remained the slave of a lunatic and maybe starved to death in a couple of years. She was nothing without her name but because she was an Antoniou, she was everything that Silas, despite all his hard work, was not.
In his self-righteous anger, the doctor failed to realize that he was completely wrong about the Antoniou heiress in one sense.
Kalliope, whose years with Madame had taught her perspicacity beyond her years, had never been fooled by the doctor’s obsequious manners. As such, she did not dislike Silas Korba. She simply did not trust him. And because she did not trust him, she did not believe she deserved him. How could she when she didn’t know him yet?
“I’m afraid you have no choice, Kalliope.” Silas used the girl’s given name with relish.
Again, Kalliope only cocked her head to the side in silent question.
“You are too young and sick to live alone. I will request the courts to put you under my care as you have no one—”
“But Doctor Korba,” she interrupted quietly, “didn’t I tell you? I am not alone.”
“The staff doesn’t count,” he said impatiently.
“But I’m not talking about the staff.”
“Then who? An imaginary friend?” The snide remark came out before he could stop himself, and Silas flushed guiltily at how childishly petty he had become. But it was all her fault, he told himself. She had insulted him first!
But when Kalliope spoke, it was obvious she hadn’t taken offense at all. “No, Doctor Korba.” Her beautiful face remained serene, her voice unruffled.
It was as if he had no power at all to affect her, and the doctor perceived this as another slight to his pride. Insecurities fed his hatred, and all his good intentions were forgotten as he said coldly, “I wonder, Ms. Antoniou.” This time, he spat her name out. “Maybe with your grandmother dead, you realized you’ve been living a lie all along? The greatest lie of all. Maybe you’ve come to know that without Mila Antoniou, you are nothing and you have to go back to Madame—”
A flicker in those violet eyes, and Silas wanted to laugh triumphantly at it.
“Yes,” he gloated. “I know everything about Madame, and if you ask me, I think she had it right on how to handle someone like you.” He looked at Kalliope, and this time he didn’t bother hiding behind a wall of professionalism. This time, he looked at her with all the lust he felt in his body ever since he saw her. He wanted to fuck her, but not as a woman to care for. He wanted to fuck her as his sex slave.
Kalliope’s face remained expressionless, but there was no hiding the sudden pallor of her skin, no disguising the way her body had become stiff as a corpse.
He had gotten to her, Silas observed in cruel satisfaction.
And he had.
Names had power, one either brought by fear or love. For Kalliope, she had unthinkingly given Madame’
s name power over her by steadfastly refusing to think of it, much less say it. For Kalliope, the name Madame didn’t exist and by thinking so, she had turned the name into a bogeyman that lived under her skin. And when the doctor had spoken the name, it was as if he had claimed ownership. In her eyes, in her mind and heart, Silas Korba was Madame reincarnate.
She believed this even if her logic, her much-lauded MENSA-level IQ, told Kalliope vehemently she was wrong.
A hungry, obsessed smile spread on Silas’ lips. He started to speak about his plans, and oh, how glorious they looked now, when the Antoniou’s butler interrupted them, coming forward and bowing before announcing, “Ms. Antoniou, you have a guest.”
Silas wanted to strangle the butler. The web of influence he had weaved around the girl disappeared in a flash. He saw it happen right before his eyes, with the way Kalliope Antoniou shook her head, as if she was brushing off the power he had started to wield over her, with dear old Madame’s help.
No, Silas wanted to howl.
Taking out his anger on the butler, he snapped, “She’s still in mourning, Mathias. You should—” He stopped when Kalliope came to her feet and walked out of the drawing room. “Stop, Kalli—”
And she did stop, turning towards him with burning violet eyes that made him recoil.
“You are not to call me that, Dr. Korba.” The girl’s voice was quiet, cold, and almost menacing, and Silas bitterly realized that he had been too hasty. He shouldn’t have showed his true colors right away. Kalliope Antoniou would never trust him now, and if he wanted to have her, it would not be with the girl’s voluntary support.
Silas’ fists clenched against his sides. So be it. Whatever it took, he would make sure that Kalliope and her fortune would be his. It was fate, he told himself, God’s way of giving him what he truly deserved.
When Kalliope walked away again, Silas and the butler followed her to the mansion’s receiving hallway. One of the front doors was open, and Silas slowed down when he saw a tall, black-haired man standing outside, his back to them. Who the hell was that?
He watched Kalliope halt by the door.
As if sensing her presence, the man turned around, and to Silas’ disappointment, the stranger turned out to be a lot worse than he thought. The man was not only younger than he was but also exceedingly handsome. Worse than that, this man wore a cloak of power and strength as if he was born to it. Watching Kalliope and the stranger gazing at each other like long-lost lovers, Silas experienced a crushing sense of fear.
“Kalliope!” His voice was sharp, the doctor wanting to tear his future wife away from the stranger but sheer cowardice making him powerless to do so.
Kalliope didn’t turn around.
Swallowing back his anger, he walked towards the couple. “Ms. Antoniou—” He tried to reach for the girl, but the way the stranger’s brilliantly blue gaze pierced him with blatant warning made the doctor’s hand fall back. Jealous anger made him grind his teeth as he watched Kalliope move closer towards the stranger before facing him.
Her violet eyes rested on him, and a sense of foreboding washed over him at the way the girl looked so damn peaceful.
Who the hell was this interloper, Silas wondered furiously.
As if hearing his thoughts, the stranger offered his hand, his voice deep and strong as he murmured in flawless English, “My name is Yuri Athanas.”
Silas’ foreboding worsened. Athanas…as in someone related to the billionaire Nelson Athanas?
He reluctantly shook hands with the stranger. “Dr. Silas Korba, and I am acting as Ms. Antoniou’s guardian, in loco parentis while we request the court—” He was forced to stop when the younger man shook his head.
“That is no longer necessary,” the stranger murmured politely. “As her fiancé, Ms. Antoniou is now under my care.”
Chapter Two
Anyone gazing at Yuri Athanas would be forgiven for thinking he was taking everything in stride, with the polite mask he wore over his sculptured features, and his tall, laconic but muscular form completely relaxed as he stood gazing outside the windows of the Antoniou estate.
No one would certainly guess that, at that moment, Yuri was still mentally reeling. It had been shock after shock, Yuri considered grimly, ever since Kalliope’s unexpected call yesterday.
The first shock was of Mila Antoniou’s unfortunate death. He mourned her passing, but at par with his grief was Yuri’s disquiet. From now on, for better or for worse, he would be responsible for an 18-year-old girl who was best described as...different.
The second shock was Kalli herself. His first sighting of his fiancée had stunned Yuri. As a member of the world-famous underground racing club Afxisi, Yuri was used to being constantly surrounded by beautiful girls. Even so, nothing could have prepared him at the astounding change a mere four years had wrought on his betrothed.
Beautiful didn’t even cover it, Yuri thought, with the first faint stirrings of unease. She was…exquisite, and Yuri wasn’t sure it was a good thing.
At the same time Yuri was contemplating the impact of Kalli’s presence in his life, Silas Korba was anxiously contemplating Yuri Athanas’ impact on his.
The younger man’s straightforward announcement of his engagement with Kalliope Antoniou had left Silas shaken even though he was loath to admit it. As he struggled to regain his composure, the doctor told himself to stop thinking of Yuri Athanas as a worthy rival. Perception was everything, and he had to stop seeing of Yuri as a man and start thinking of him as a boy.
A boy, he told himself firmly. Yuri Athanas might be one of Greece’s wealthiest scions, but at the end of the day, he was still a boy. Why, he was still in university even! In the real world, Silas’ word – as the adult – should and would have greater sway.
The thought giving him false courage, Silas cleared his throat, but the sound petered off when the so-called boy turned towards him with bright blue eyes that were eerily similar to Kalliope Antoniou. Whereas the girl’s disconcerted Silas with its unnatural transparency, the boy’s gaze was simply too…sharp. It made Silas feel like any lie he uttered now would be akin to signing his death warrant.
“You have something to say, Dr. Korba?” The voice was nearly angelic in its purity, which again bore an uncanny similarity to Kalliope’s own lilting tones.
Damn these two, Silas thought in sheer frustration. They were too inhumanly near to perfection, it just wasn’t right.
Squaring his shoulders in a desperate desire to establish his superiority and seniority, Silas answered, “I would need proof of your engagement to Ms. Antoniou—”
“Of course,” Yuri said politely, cutting the doctor off. Taking out a business card from his wallet, he handed it to the older man. “It’s the law firm the late Mrs. Antoniou, Kalli, and I have employed to formalize our engagement and upcoming wedding.”
Silas’ heart sank when he saw the name embossed on the card. It was indeed the law firm the Antoniou family used, and the lawyer’s name was also one he was acquainted with.
Not to be defeated, Silas tried another tactic, asking, “You are aware of Ms. Antoniou’s condition, of course?” He tried not to flush in discomfiture when the younger man raised a brow at his question, the simple gesture conveying just the right amount of courteous disapproval. It made the doctor feel like he had overstepped the line, and his dislike of Yuri Athanas increased.
He said defensively, “I have been employed by the late Mrs. Antoniou as Kalliope’s doctor—”
“Perhaps,” Yuri said very gently, “what you mean is that you have been employed as Mila Antoniou’s physician and not Kalliope’s herself.” During his flight to Greece, Yuri had made use of his time wisely, gathering as much information as he could on how the Antoniou family had gotten on in the past four years.
In front of him, the doctor was saying sullenly, “It’s almost the same.”
Yuri managed to keep his contempt from his voice as he answered in the same gentle tone, “No, Dr. Korba. It’s not
.” This man was a bully, but like all bullies, they were weak, timidly, and cowardly inside. He had a hard time accepting that someone as naturally intelligent as Kalliope couldn’t see that for herself.
Silas wanted to argue the point, but his cowardice got the better of him at hearing the note of warning in Yuri’s tone. It finally dawned on him that, boy or not, Yuri was the typical alpha Greek male. Since the boy considered himself responsible for the Antoniou heiress, challenging his authority would be the quickest way to failure.
For now, Silas decided, it would be best to beat a strategic retreat. Pinning a humble smile on his face, he made himself apologize, saying, “You’re right, Mr. Athanas. I apologize for misspeaking.”
Yuri only nodded.
“I can only say in my defense that being Mrs. Antoniou’s doctor for the past year has made me concerned about her granddaughter as well.” He sent a questioning glance at the boy. “But you do know about her condition?” Clearing his throat, Silas acted like the next words pained him to speak. “She isn’t all right in the head—”
Yuri Athanas’ eyes glinted, but his tone was as soft and bland as ever when he murmured, “You must exercise greater care with your words, Dr. Korba. I’m sure you didn’t mean to imply that my fiancée is in any way insane.” A pause. “Did you?”
It was a threat.
“Not at all, Mr. Athanas,” Silas said quickly. But inside him, his hatred festered, an emotion that allowed him to remain blind to the fact that it was really his own cowardice he despised. “Again, I only speak out of my great concern for Mrs. Antoniou’s daughter. She’s a very, ah, different person, and I only care about her well-being. It would be better,” he said hopefully, “if she were to pass her mourning period in our clinic—” He forced himself to stop when Yuri shook his head.
