KING (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (4 page)

“Daniel
,” Grandfather somberly mutters to me. “Grant,” he says to his first born, refusing to call him Jamie. “Sons, Gwen isn’t dead,” Grandfather slowly admits, and then drops his face into his open palms. “I’m sorry.”

“I…
I… what?” I stammer, shocked. In my periphery, Jamie is going insane, his fingers flying through the air. I’m pretty sure he is repeating
what
over and over again- stuttering with his fingers.

“She was a con-artist. Pregnancy wasn’t in her plan. She was to bilk money from us and leave. Accidents happen. She took her money and I received my heir- transaction concluded, no charges of fraud pressed. Her last wish was that we said she’d overdosed.
Priscilla and I agreed that it was the right thing to do. We didn’t want either of you to feel unwanted. You are our sons,” Daniel professes, leaning over his desk, staring me dead in the eyes, and then does the same to Jamie.

“Afterwards, Gwen
moved on to her next mark. It killed me when Regina told me you thought I’d killed your lover, and I couldn’t dispute it because I thought you’d died- died thinking I’d killed the mother of your child and stole your offspring to claim as my own. Yes, I flew into a fit of rage when Regina told me this, and I’m thankful that my daughter stopped me.”

“Why me?”
Regina’s voice cracks under the pressure. Without thought, my hand reaches for hers, offering her the comfort that she usually rejects. But she graciously accepts it this time.

“As cruel as I sounded, it didn’t make it any less true. My family was weakening, financially and genetically. No one will disput
e my son’s weakness now. Gwen is a crafty woman, I’ll give her that. She added something our family was lacking. Whitt used this to hide his true nature, and I’m not speaking of his homosexuality. He is like a chameleon, hiding his strength in plain sight. I’d found you through Mrs. Zeitler and my wife. You were bright, resilient, and strong. The farther you succeeded in your studies, the more I was convinced that you could inject what was lacking into our family. It was wrong, but I won’t apologize for it. You loved my son just as you love my grandson. You gave me two incredible grandchildren, and hopefully more in the future.”

“Don’t bet on that,” Regina snarls and I wince from the rejection.

“I’m sure Niel will create children,” he says smugly. “Perhaps Whitt will be persuasive or maybe Grant will get an itch he needs scratched elsewhere. I’m not worried. I see a lot of Whittenhower children in our future.”

Regina stares at Daniel in abject horror, no doubt envisioning the spawn Niel and Ava will create
, or maybe she is thinking of Jamie making more babies and leaving them to raise themselves. I hope to God the thought of my children didn’t put that look of desolation on her face. I’d never ask that of her, but I don’t want the thought of my baby growing in her belly to make her nauseous.

“For the record, I would have let you see the boys after I calmed down, but you never showed. I don’t blame you
… after all, I did try to kill you. My only excuse is the agony of grief turned to madness. As soon as I knew Marcus had spirited away my son, I was fine knowing he lived even if I didn’t know where. I was sickened, albeit not surprised, that he just left you all.”

Jamie’s hands
have been flying during the entire conversation, and finally Marcus calmly interjects in translation, “Cora?”

Daniel waves his hand in dismissal
at Marcus. “I understand him. I know his disabilities, and that he did it to himself. Niel taught me sign language,” Grandfather murmurs while settling into his chair, feeling relaxed now that he’s spilled his guts.

“If you want to know about Cora, you’re coming to the wrong person. I wasn’t going to stop you when you tried to leave. That stupid contract I had Regina sign was just a ruse to keep her here long enough to fall in love with you. I was proud that you were going to take your family and try it on your own
. I was shocked that you got Cora to divorce you. It gave me hope that you finally grew a pair of Whittenhower balls. I don’t know your reasons for harming yourself, and I don’t give a fuck, either. But if you have questions about Cora, the perpetrator of that crime will have to make him or herself known when they want to clear their guilty conscience.”

Do you know who murdered my ex-wife?

“Of course I do,” Daniel says in annoyance. “There is very little anyone hides from me,” arrogantly spills from his lips. “Anything else?”

“Why lock Ade away at WinterCrest Asylum?” Marcus asks, and I don’t know if it’s because he wants to know or if Jamie does.

“It was for her protection and sanity. There are things none of you know about our Adelaide. She needed help. She attacked a pregnant woman, if you recall. It was out of my hands after that. She could only be released if a doctor wrote off on it. She was deemed sane years ago. It was a self-committal after that. She was frightened to leave. Your coup drew her out of reclusion. Adelaide and Grant are very similar sometimes- it’s frightening,” he shudders. “Look,” he points to the sofa. “They’re both here, finally leaving their self-administered seclusions.” 

“How did you know about my coup?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“You already know the answer to that question, and I don’t think you want me to confirm your suspicions. Ask yourself… how did you know about my bid for retirement? Hmm… someone fed you that information, did they not? Perhaps that same someone was tired of having his family divided between three or four houses. He’s not my kid. I didn’t raise him to be a scary bastard, but I’m scared of him none the less. None of this was my idea.”

“The lunatics are running the asylum,” Regina murmurs under her breath to alleviate the need to scream bloody murder. How do I know she’s feeling that way?
Because I am.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Daniel reverently says as the devious shit prances in the room.

King?

Bull-fucking-shit.

My son has always worn that crown on his head. He only pretends to obey me. I’ll teach him differently… eventually.

Niel half-hugs me in apology, rubbing his cheek against mine. I wait for him to say something that will make me want to kick his ass to next year.

“You were all blinded, and now you can see… I’m not sorry,” he breathes into my ear.

“I’m beating you when you least expect it,” I vow.

“Bring it,” Niel
taunts, swaggering around the desk to stand behind his grandfather. The youngest Daniel makes the eldest Daniel look like a saint.

Niel is his own kind of chameleon. His bulk gives the illusion of lower intelligence. His pale, soft features and freckles, combined with that haystack of reddish-blond curly hair, make him look like
Raggedy Andy
on steroids. When he speaks in his soothingly calm voice you fight the need to close your eyes and sigh, that is until his words compute in your brain. Then you realize he tricked you with his appearance, and you’ve been fucked over by a cunning genius teenager hell-bent on familial peace and tranquility. 

“Conspiracies… intrigue… you all think the worst of each other. You’re all pretty bad, so quit l
ooking at me like I’m Satan,” Niel snaps. “How many times do I have to warn you I’m not right in the head?” He stares his mother down, pleading that she’ll understand. Regina’s answering whimper makes me ache.

“
Ade’s been telling Mom and Dad about perception for years, but would they listen? No, of course not,” Niel snidely hisses. “So now we’re in deep shit because we were too busy fighting amongst ourselves to notice. It’s time for Diane’s portion of the show and tell. We need to listen, and then the people in this room that still have a functioning brain need to help.” Niel dismisses his aunt and father with a wave of his hand, knowing they won’t offer anything constructive because they’ll cut and run as soon as the shit hits the fan.

~Chapter Four~

“If this isn’t about you, then who
is it about, Diane?” incredulity wafts from my tone.

Diane’s soft scoff reverberates throughout the estate’s study. “Yes, I’ll tell you right now,” she says with heavy sarcasm. “Any
one of those people you brought with you today could be a sleeper.”

“Yeah, they are dead on their feet. Barely can keep thei
r eyes open at this early hour,” I say with a roll of my eyes. I do sarcasm better than my father’s right-hand woman, the delusional fallen angel.

“Seriously,” Diane turns to my g
randfather and gives a long-suffering sigh that sounds like cracking glass. “You raised this boy. Does he have a brain malfunction?”

Several of my
sleeping
family members stifle various sounds of amusement. Niel barks out a laugh and holds his tummy. I shoot a glare at Grandfather for bringing this sociopath into our lives.

“Did you forget to take your meds today, Diane? That’s not very responsible of you,” I scold.

The woman in question bares her blocky, white teeth in a feminine version of a snarl. “I assure you, I have no need for medication.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to dampen the
crazy with medication, now would we?”

“I can’t deal with this insolence. I thought you’d trained him better,” she verbally slaps the eldest of my family.

“Son,” Grandfather says in defeat, “behave,” he lightly cautions me, and then turns to Diane. “It’s his birthday today. Give him some slack. He has a lot of emotional garbage that is going to surface.”

“I’m not your son,” I hiss.

“Genetically speaking, but I do believe I am the one who raised you after your dead-beat dad faked his own death. I understand your anger towards him, but not the anger directed at me.”

“Fuck you,” I shout and point at the bastard. “You’re the one who is delusional.”

“Children,” Diane admonishes with an eye roll. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Fine,” petulantly growls from my throat while Daniel says, “Thank you, Diane.” We simultaneously fold our arms over our chests, mirroring one another.

“Nothing alike at all,” Niel teases to drain the tension from the room.

“A long time ago,” Diane begins and I fight the nee
d to make that frustrated sound from my chest. I don’t think I can sit and listen to her shrill voice narrating a story of her own making. It reminds me of Ezra when Master Ez comes out to play- glass shards raking down a chalkboard while a herd of feral cats yowl in the background is the best way to describe the sound. It’s not a nice bell tone; it’s an annoying tinkling that never ceases.

“Rich people always banded together. I’ve known Olivia
and Daniel since birth. Our fathers were business partners long before we were born because their fathers were partners. Our fortunes grew from their ingenuity, and it wasn’t always legal. In our world there is always someone above you and someone looking to take your place in the hierarchy. Pierre Fontaine reveled in their criminal activities, becoming one of the people close to the top. Daniel’s father, Wilhelm Whittenhower, and my father, Byron Holden, found their practices unethical. They died abruptly, and not from old age. Both of my parents were taken from Pearl and I when their car caught fire with them inside it. Wilhelm suffered a brutal mugging inside our Catholic church… during Mass. Daniel and I were left to run our families. Let’s just say we weren’t as adverse to illegal as our fathers. We thought self-preservation outweighed ethics.”

Diane is quiet for minutes and not because she is waiting for our response, she’s fortifying herself for something she doesn’t want to say.

Minutes tick by and I start to worry about her mental health. Minutes later I fear for her physical health as a sickly sheen glosses her grayed out skin.

“If you didn’t kill me by now, this may just do it,” Diane finally speaks, directing her statement to Marcus. “Some families held out. Religious families
were the hardest to sway. Our benefactors found the Catholics easy to bend, but one religious sect was impossible to crack, no matter the brutal coercion tactics- the Jews.”

Marcus’ sharp intake of breath stops Diane’s narrative. The force of his lungs expels in a violent hiss as he tries to maintain control over his emotions.

“These men at the top don’t do the work themselves. They acquire your family and you’re in for life… or death. It’s a perverse pyramid scheme. The upper group draws in more families while the lower half modifies our behavior. We’re told what to do, what to buy, who to marry and befriend, or else. The mild infractions bring lower management to your house with crowbars as you watch them smash your belongings- bones and such… The second offense or if you’re being made an example…” Diane draws in a shaky breath and dabs moisture from her eyes.