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"Mason! Come on, put the s'mores down for your sister."The eight year old boy pouts, and rolls his eyes. "She's not my sister."Bethany looks down at her son and raises an eyebrow. "Unless you want a smack on your non existent bum, put that smore down for Cleo."Cleo puts her tongue out, snatches the snack, eats it one whole bite and runs away, Mason on her tail.Chara looks up from her magazine and laughs, her eyes wide with age. "That's how it is, they'll grow to love one another either way. Mason must be so happy, seeing how they're getting along."Bethany chuckles softly in remembrance. It'll be eight years in a few weeks since he passed on. It'll be three since Martha also left them behind...And in another few months, it'll be eight years since these cat and mouse delights have been born.Eight years old, Bethany's Mason and Eight years old Chara's Cleo Worth."Where's Arthur anyway?" Chara asks as she finishes the wine in the glass.Bethany chuckles... "He's..."Arthur comes
The news spreads faster than a regular tabloid scandal now that they are corporate world celebrities, but this time, the rumor is all true.Campbell Conglomerate isn’t just back on its feet, it’s pretty much untouchable.In less than a week since the press conference detonated Robert Matrick’s legacy into legal ash, Campbell’s shares have shot up by fifty seven percent. Their reputation, once hanging by a thread, is now gleaming now that the investors and shareholders are the ones showing up themselves, a win is always a win.And at this particular moment, at the very top of the building, on the 41st floor of the Campbell Conglomerate company building, the glass conference room is full.Bethany Worth walks in with a silk blouse tucked into a navy skirt and a slightly oversized blazer she hasn’t bothered to button, it’s fashion after all. And right behind her, Arthur follows with his sling finally gone, wearing a steel grey colored suit, specifically tailored for him, his hand resting
The hospital room is dim and quiet except for the steady beeps of the machine strapped to Mason’s body… According to the doctors, he’s already on his last lap.Outside, the sun dips low over the city skyline, casting the last sun rays of the day through the half open window blinds. It should feel warm. Comforting.But in this room?It feels like a countdown.Arthur stands near the foot of the bed, cast still wrapped tightly around his left arm, he had used it to cushion his fall that day and dislocated it, his face is pale, his jaw clenched, but his eyes fixed on the man lying in front of him, they had hated each other’s guts at first but now it’s the complete opposite, he’s family after all.Beside him, Bethany sits in the corner, unusually still. Not cold. Just... bracing. Her hands are folded tightly in her lap, white knuckled, and her lips are pressed together in silence, many things wanting to be said but there aren’t any words to convey them.Mason Campbell, the soldier who woul
The Grand Hall in the heartbeat of the whole country is buzzing.Security is doubled this early evening. Cameras line the red carpet almost like it’s a celebrity party. There’s an army of media reps, government officials, and high-profile investors all gathered in their very best suits and evening wear, murmuring with excitement. Reporters in neat blazers, cameras adjusting lenses, doing pre conference shoots and all of those. The stage is set with the usual blue velvet backdrop and a pair of flags on either side.At the front of the stage, a massive LED screen glows behind a glassy black podium. The country’s seal gleams on everything except the things it is supposed to be on and something else’s logo is on every other thing, ranging from the podium itself to the press badges to the water bottles being handed out.It's practically a coronation ceremony for someone, rather than the public announcement it is supposed to be.Because today, this conference?Robert Matrick is here to anno
“What were those shots? I have called for backup, they are on… holy moly.” Halloway exclaims as he whips his radio out and yells for an ambulance.Everyone in the room is frozen solid.A total of four gunshots. Two bodies down on the floor.Bethany stands motionless, the gun still warm in her hand, breath coming out in hard gasps, like she is struggling to breath. Her entire body is rigid, every nerve screaming as if they’d been burned from the inside out while her hands tremble the most, realizing what has just happened.Marsh slowly reaches for her and takes the gun out of her hand, wipes it off and puts it back in his holster, locking it in place. “Bethany?”The only sound is a faint groan.She turns. Slowly. Terrified.And there he is.Arthur, lying on the ground. Blood spreading across the white of his shirt. His hand is on his side, fingers sticky with red. His breathing is uneven. Bethany’s knees collapse and she falls to his side. She hits the ground beside him, hands going to
The tires of the black fake delivery van screeches very loudly as it pulls into the parking lot, and as soon as it gets to the frontm, the car stops, not bothering to park like a sane person would.Maybe because the person driving is not exactly doing it sane.Brie is just stepping out of the building, her iPad and folder in one hand, red heels clicking sharply against concrete, as her other hand is used to press her phone to her ear as she issues orders like a military commander. Outside, Brie is already descending the concrete steps of the run down building, a building that is very familiar to Marsh because he’s been there before.“Yes. The contract has been signed. Burn all the backups from befire, no need to do undercover anymore. I have the signature, we’re golden. This is checkmate. Also, have the legal team draft the press statement. No, I don’t care how aggressive it looks. The point is to make it-”The back of the van bursts open loudly and it catches her attention as she paus