Se connecter"Hey, watch your steps. Have you suddenly gone blind?” Fabiola yelled at Jenny for hitting him accidentally after she dashed out of Alvin's office angrily.
"Speak of the ruthless devil. Bullshit,” Jenny hissed angrily and motioned for her duty post before Fabiola could counter her words. "What the fuck is wrong with her? Did I do anything to upset her?” Fabiola asked rhetorically and pondered why she acted like that. Judging from her shitty attitude, he could discern that something was eating her up. These two weren't on talking terms. Jenny doesn't even find Fabiola fascinating as a person or as the managing director of Royal Gold Mine, but she hasn't for one moment spoken to him rudely aside now. "Her attitude speaks volumes. But whatever it is, I'm ready to go ask Dad,” Fabiola muttered and walked inside his father's office. "You should respect my privacy. You don't just break into people's offices as you wish. This is a reputable organization. Show some courtesy,” he scolded Fabiola for breaking in. "Easy on me, Dad. I meant no harm. I just had a nasty encounter with Jenny outside the office. She looked tense and angry. Something is eating her up, and I bet you know about it.” Fabiola sat down and popped the question. "And why would I know anything about it? You had the opportunity to ask her, but you goofed. I thought you'd never show up. What changed?” he ignored the question, but Fabiola wasn't ready to back out either. "I see what you did there. Stop running away from the question, Dad. A little explanation would do. Did you do anything to upset her? I haven't seen her that angry before. I bet you did something to trigger that provocation.” Fabiola kept pushing for an answer. "Okay, fine. I'll spill it already.” He bowed to pressure and explained about the stolen check. "Okay? I got the picture! She came begging you to drop all charges against her mother, and you refused, hence her anger? It wasn't your fault her mother stole from us. She deserves to be punished to set an example for those opportunists out there,” Fabiola supported his father's actions. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but there's a twist. I intend to drop all the charges against her mother. For some reason, though,” he unleashed the bombshell that left Fabiola astounded. "What reason could that be? Please come off it. This isn't you talking. When did you become this Nice? We both know this is a prank. I mean, her mother can't escape prosecution. A few years behind bars would help reset her head.” Fabiola laughed mischievously and doubted his father. Alvin Alejandro is known for one thing, except for forgiveness. He barely forgives, irrespective of the victim involved. Now, hearing his father speak about granting a pardon to a stranger who stole such an outrageous amount is what Fabiola doesn't seem to comprehend. “I need an explanation, Dad. You're making me nuts. Why would she be granted a pardon? Are you having a secret affair with her?” "What an insult! This is a slap on my face. Why would you even think of such? Come on, son. I can't stoop so low to have a relationship with a peasant. For your information, I've got no intention of having a relationship or getting married again. I demand an apology for that false accusation. You should know me better than the rubbish you just spew,” he slammed his desk in anger. Ever since he lost his wife, he has never considered getting another wife, let alone having a secret affair with one of his staff. "Apologies, Dad. Sorry, I said that. I just feel there's more to this. I know you too well. You just don't become so good and benevolent in one day. So I insist, why did you decide to drop all charges?” "I know this may sound so ridiculous, but you just need to know. She's gonna marry you for three years. Then she can file for divorce afterward…" "Wait, wait, hold on a sec.” Fabiola made an upraised hand to interrupt his father. "But I'm not done yet,” he protested. "What else do I need to hear? Just like you said, this is absurd. I can't even marry that godforsaken leper called Jenny for a second. I would rather become a priest than get married to her. If she was the only girl remaining in the world, I would rather stay single for the rest of my life. How did you even think of such a thing? You amuse me,” Fabiola stood up and sparked outrageously. He wouldn't stop yelling at his Dad as though they were mates. "Can you stop yelling and get your ass down? I'm still your father and not one of those numerous prostitutes you flock around town with. I deserve some respect.” he calmed the situation and asked Fabiola to sit. Reluctantly, he obeyed and looked at his father with a bombastic side-eye. Alvin sighed and revealed the multi-billion dollar deal, Royal Gold Mine could lose if Fabiola refused to get married to Jenny. "So this is what everything is about. Are you selling me out for money? How cruel can you be? You aren't even concerned about my feelings. Do you even bother to ask what I want?” "I care about your future, that's why I'm doing this for you. Remember you'd one day inherit my legacy? I need to lay a better foundation for you.” "And what if I decline?” “You dare not because you're gonna be affected. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you to do it because if you don't, you risk losing your inheritance to your kid brother. I'll transfer all rights to him, and you'd be reduced to a mere staff of Royal Gold Mine. Which means, he automatically becomes my heir apparent,” "This is the height of wickedness. Am I even your biological son? I know you never liked me, but this? It is cruelty,” Fabiola placed his head on the desk and bemoaned. He didn't see this coming. If anyone had told him his father would do this, he would have gotten the person arrested for trying to destroy his future. "Enough with the emotions. Are you in or not? There's no time to think about it.” "You speak as though I've got a choice. I'll do this. What about her, did she accept?” Fabiola agreed after a prolonged silence. “Awesome! Worry not about her. She's just proving stubborn. She'll come around,” Alvin assured. Moments later, LaJennyjenny walked inside with a file in her possession. The moment she saw Fabiola seated in the office, she made a U-turn to walk away. “I'm sorry I have to come back. I can't stand him,” "That won't be necessary. You two need to start getting used to each other since you'll be living together for the next three years,” Alvin announced with a smile. "What do you mean? I haven't accepted your proposal yet,” she asked with a cracked tone. "I don't have a problem with your acceptance. I was only concerned about Fabiola's, but he has accepted already.” “He did?” Astonished, she asked. “Oh, yes, he did. Shocking right? I knew you would be,” Alvin laughed. “This is unbelievable. I thought…" Jenny paused for a moment after her phone suddenly rang from a strange caller. “Sorry, I need to take this,” she frowned and placed the phone on her left ear. "Yes, it's Jenny. Who are you? My mom? What happened to my mom? I would be there immediately,” she screamed and got off the phone. “What happened to your mom?” with the deepest concern, Alvin inquired. "I just got off the phone with a cop at the station. It's about my mom. He sounded so urgent. I think she's in danger,” She replied hurriedly. “Damn! Hold on a sec while I drop you off,” he opted. “ I'll find my way,” Jenny declined his request and stepped outside. Despite the devastating news, Fabiola wasn't moved. He remained glued to his position as though it were nobody's business.The warehouse smelled of raw cotton and old coffee and the cedar of the furniture Harry had chosen because it was comfortable and not because it cost anything.He made my mother tea.She took it with both hands and looked around the apartment above the warehouse floor and said, "This is a good room," and settled into the couch with the quiet authority of a woman who has been assessing spaces her whole life and knows immediately whether one is honest.Harry showed me the guest room.A bed. A window. A small dresser. Nothing on the walls. The spare honesty of a space that was offering exactly what it had and nothing more."The lock works," he said."I know it does," I said.He stepped back and closed the door.I lay down in my clothes.The pillow was the kind that had been washed many times and had gone soft in the middle. The window showed the loading dock and the Atlanta skyline beyond it. The warehouse below was quiet. My mother was on the couch with her tea. Harry was somewhere on t
We walked out four across.Down the long hallway past everything Alvin had hung on the walls to tell the story of himself, the company milestones and the civic awards and the portrait of a younger man shaking hands with someone important, and through the front door and down the marble steps and across the white stone driveway in the May morning.The fountain was still going.Of course it was.Fountains do not participate in the endings of things.We stopped at the cars. Harry's truck. Fabiola's car. My mother's cab was long gone. She would ride with one of us.I turned around.The mansion blazed in the morning light the way it always blazed, every window lit, the pale stone warm, the hedges perfect. And at the window of the sitting room, behind the glass, Alvin stood with his hands at his sides.His hands were shaking.Small tremors. Barely visible from forty feet. But I had been trained by his own attention to notice things at distance, and I could see the tremor from where I stood.
He stood up slowly.The way he always stood when he wanted the standing to mean something. The controlled rise of a man reclaiming a room that had briefly stopped belonging to him.He straightened his jacket, looked at the survey document in my hands and smiled.Not the warm smile. Not the gala smile. Not any of the smiles I had catalogued in six months of watching his face. A smaller one. The smile of a man who has just decided to stop pretending he is anything other than what he is."Let me tell you what happens next," he said.His voice was very quiet."You will take that document to a lawyer. The lawyer will file a claim. My lawyers will counter-file within forty-eight hours. The counter-filing will challenge the chain of custody, the notary's credibility, the survey methodology, and the standing of a deceased man's estate to make a mineral claim on land that has been in commercial development for three years. The litigation will take four years minimum. You do not have four years
Harry drove alone to my mother's house.Twelve minutes there. Twelve back. We had calculated it in the hallway before he left, him and me in two quick sentences, because the document in the gray coat lining was the foundation of everything and every minute it sat in an east-side closet was a minute in which a man with resources and a phone could reach it first.My mother and I waited in the east corridor sitting room.Not in the main sitting room where Alvin was. Down the hall. The small room. The one with the window showing the garden where the fountain moved its patient circle.Fabiola came and stood in the doorway.He did not come in.He stood in the frame with his arms crossed, not blocking us in but not going back to the main room either, a man positioned between two rooms because he had not yet decided where he belonged.My mother was holding the photograph of my father.The one from the riverbank. The green flannel. The document in his hands instead of a fish. I found it on the
The sitting room was exactly as we had left it.Broken vase on the floor. Documents on the coffee table. Fabiola near the window. Alvin in his chair, which he had reclaimed the moment we had walked out, the posture of a man reasserting occupation of a room that had briefly changed hands.He looked up when we came back in.He looked at my mother.He looked at me.He arranged his face into something between patience and pity, the expression of a man preparing to be reasonable at someone who has lost the thread of reason.I did not let him speak first."You created the loan," I said.He opened his mouth."Not yet," I said. "You created the conditions for the loan. My father found something on that river that should have changed everything for our family. Instead of honoring the partnership you proposed, you had him killed and acquired his claim through a company with your name on it. You then spent six years watching our family disintegrate under the financial weight of losing him. You w
Harry drove fast but not recklessly, the way a man drives when he understands that speed matters and panic does not.My mother sat beside me in the back seat with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes on the road ahead. She had not spoken since we left the mansion. Neither had I. The city moved past the windows in the particular way it moves when you are seeing it differently than you saw it an hour ago, the same buildings and the same streets and the same morning light, but arranged now around a different center of gravity.I was doing the math.The math that had been sitting in pieces for six months, each piece delivered by a different hand in a different room, and was now assembling itself in the back of Harry's truck without my permission.My mother had stolen a check.A one-million-dollar check from a briefcase carried by Josh, who worked for Alvin, who had been watching our family for six years.The check had been for Royal Gold Mine.The bank where my mother cleaned floors w
The first call came on a Wednesday at nine forty-seven.Not the vendor contract line. Not the eight-dollar phone. A third number, new, that Harry had sent in a text that deleted itself thirty seconds after I read it. A number registered to a company name I didn't recognize that sold industrial fast
Harry called me on a Tuesday.Not the eight-dollar phone. The vendor contract number. The professional line that could ring through a board meeting and be explained. He never called that number. He texted it twice and used it for contract confirmations and left it alone otherwise, because the vendo
He came down the hallway at eleven fourteen.I know because the clock on my nightstand had been the only thing I had been looking at since his light went out at ten fifty-two. Twenty-two minutes of lying in the dark counting the ceiling and thinking about a pale yellow wall and a roller dripping pa
I heard it before I saw the light under the door.A low formless humming. Not a melody I recognized at first. Just the shape of one. The kind of sound a person makes when they are not aware they are making any sound at all, when the mind has gone somewhere private and the body is left to its own sm







