Ophelia (4 page)

The amethyst and silver slave bracelet on Ophelia’s left hand
momentarily distracted him. “That’s not your engagement ring,” Harry remarked.

“You are not the only one who makes stupid
decisions.”

Seeing her brother’s curious expression, she added,
“Eduardo broke off the engagement. He decided that I was too close
to David for his liking and that the possibility of marrying me was not
worthwhile.”

That might explain the change in bodyguard
, Harry
thought.

“You have failed to answer my question,”
Ophelia said after a moment.

“You implied that I was an idiot. You’re right.”

“I never said that you were an idiot. I said
only that you have made some stupid decisions in the past.”

“Regardless, there’s no excuse for the way I’ve treated you.”
Harry sighed. “You seemed to have a perfect life. Dad never made any secret of
the fact that sending you to Mom’s old school was the best idea since OsCorp.
He always said you were brilliant…”

“First in Irish, first in English, second in
Spanish, second in science, third in mathematics and second in history, art and
music,” she remarked idly.

Harry shook his head. “Then you came to the reading of Dad’s
will and the attorney tells me that not only have you been living virtually on
your own since you were fourteen, but that you are—or were—the second most
popular designer in Australia!”

“And then there is
Máthair
.”

“Mom? Yeah! The fact that she’s actually been alive for the
last nineteen years and no one has bothered to tell me just pisses me off!”

“Do you think that
Athair
would have
allowed you to see her, even if you
had
known?”

“That’s not the point!”

“True. You
were
heading for was a
complete admission of your jealousies.”

“Do I need to keep going?”

“I am beginning to wonder why you started,”
Ophelia replied. “It does not take a theoretical physicist to see your
shortcomings.”

“Huh?”

“You are transparent, Harry.”

“Oh.”

Ophelia glanced at the grandfather clock that stood in the
corner opposite them.
“I would like to push you into something
you are not prepared for, but I must request that we wrap this up.”

“What do you mean?”

Ophelia did her best imitation of people she had heard on the
street: “Look, are ya gonna apallagize or what?”

Harry laughed, then tried to mock her stately pronunciation:
“If you are requesting that I make an appeal for forgiveness in light of my
earlier errors, than I shall do so forthwith!”

He stood and made a funny little bow. “I humbly apologize for
my inadequacies.”

There was a knock at the door and Bernard peeked into the
room.

“Mr. Whitaker asked that I remind you of your ten o’clock
appointment.”

“I will begin preparing shortly,”
Ophelia replied. She turned back to her brother.
“Please stop
by the tower this afternoon—we have much to discuss.”

~*~

“It
has been nearly a month.”

Ophelia maintained her view of the Manhattan skyline.
“I am still unready to make peace.”

“You spoke to the brother you haven’t seen for nearly
nineteen years without coercion. I believe you’re ready to speak to me.”

“Harry is still unaware of the information
that you seek.”

David strode forward and spun her around. “I want to know
what the hell is going on, Ophelia!”

She bit back on the standard “you wouldn’t understand!” and
indicated her desk.

“The rose folder.”

Her bodyguard picked up the folder and—at Ophelia’s further
indication—read the contents. At length, she sat down and waited for his
response.

“You believe this is real?”

“It is backed up by a solid body of
scientific evidence,”
Ophelia replied.
“What you see
before you is merely a summary of my father’s research, put into simpler
terms.”

“Are you sure he was referring to you and not to some
experimental child your mother had the fortune to miscarry?”

Ophelia spread her hands in a “what can I say?” gesture.
“You were only absent from the first year of my education. You know
how well I did at the Academy and at university. You were present for the
meetings in which various coaches attempted to persuade me to try hurling or
some other sport. You have even witnessed the checks of my identification from
the first moment I stepped into a pub. Where, then, are you lacking in proof?”

He sighed, then gazed at her for quite a while before
attempting to speak.

“What are you going to do?”

“Fulfil the duty for which
Athair
worked
so hard to train me. I shall merely have to be careful, so that I will not
exhibit traits that will cause me to be branded as unusual, someone to be
feared.”

“What about Dr. Osborn’s research?”

“I would not entrust it to the best security
team in the world. I will share the information with my brother and then I will
burn it and pray that there are no other copies.”

Monday

March 24, 2003

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”
Ophelia smiled over the
ballroom.
“For those to whom I have not been introduced, I am
Ophelia Osborn, the new chief executive officer and chief science officer of
OsCorp Industries.

“I am the late Dr Osborn’s eldest child and
it was his wish that I inherit the company. Although my background is primarily
in fashion, I minored in chemistry and business administration during my time
at the University of the Sunshine Coast.

“It has come to my attention that there have
been some rumours circulating about potential buyouts and layoffs. Let me emphasize
that those rumours are
only
rumours—if you are sitting here before me,
your position is secure.”

Some of the banqueters applauded; Ophelia tolerated this for
a few moments before gesturing for silence.

“However, as with every new administration, there
have been some changes.

“Those of you in middle management may have
noticed the continued absence of Dr Richard Welker. After an extensive
interview, vetting process and a lengthy examination of his work, I have
determined that the doctor would be of better use to the company if I assigned
him elsewhere. Thus, I have named Dr Richard Welker the chief administrator of
the Ophelia R. Osborn Laboratory Complex, based in New Rochelle.”

Ophelia was surprised that she had to start the applause this
time, but perhaps that was because Dr. Welker was virtually unknown. When
Richard nodded graciously, Ophelia motioned for quiet once again.

“I have also decided that it is appropriate
to name a president to lead OsCorp when I need to be away,” she continued.
“Ordinarily, a chief executive officer might promote someone from the upper
divisions of management, such as the vice president of marketing. Nevertheless,
I felt that I should appoint someone with proven leadership skills; someone
that you know and trust. Someone like Harry Osborn.”

A modicum of shock passed through the room before Harry stood
to acknowledge the beginnings of applause. Under the cover of clapping, he
leaned toward his sister.

“
This
is why you insisted I show up?”

 
“A sufficient reason as any.”
Ophelia shrugged.
“Objections?”

“Ask me again in a few weeks.” Harry waved to the crowd and
returned to his seat.

“I crave your attention for only a moment
longer.”

The room slowly subsided into silence as Ophelia addressed
the banqueters once more.

“As I continue my tenure here at OsCorp, I
will establish new goals and benchmarks as befitting of a company of our
stature. One of the many changes in the years to come will be how we are
received in the public eye. The first change will be a bold one, something that
is evocative of who we are as a company, and who we plan to be three, five and
even ten years down the road.

“Therefore, I am pleased to announce that we
will no longer be known as OsCorp Industries, Incorporated, effective April
second. Instead, we shall be known as Osborn Scientific, Incorporated—a
family-owned company.”

~*~

Nearly
a year passed before Harry and Ophelia had very much interaction. Harry seemed
to take a long time to learn the nuances of the presidency, until his sister
grew tired of his procrastination and began piling him with work. Harry sent
his executive assistant to complain that he was overburdened, but that had been
all…

“Finally
give up, sister?”

Ophelia looked up from her suitcase.
“For
Goddess’s sake, Harry, it is half ten! Have you been drinking already?”

“That’s right!” He gave her a sloppy grin. “Run back to
Australia…leave it aaaaalllll to me!”

Ophelia quietly hoped her bodyguard was standing just outside
the door.

“Harry, you need to go home. You are not
permitted to be in my home without an invitation.”

“Why should both of us run away?”

He flopped into a nearby chair and Ophelia wondered if there
was any point in sharing important information with her brother when he was in
this state.

“I am not running away,
Deartháir
. I
am going to Spain to be wed.”

Harry’s laughter was strident “You don’t even have a
boyfriend!”

“You have never
met
my fiancé!”
Ophelia reminded him. “Nevertheless, Eduardo has been living in a flat on the
Upper West Side since December.”

He watched her for several minutes, as if she were an
interesting television program. When Harry spoke again, he seemed to have
sobered a little.

“You forgave him?”

“He invited me to attend counselling after
he moved to New York,” Ophelia said as she folded a nightgown. “I think we have
made sufficient progress in the last few months.”

“You’re not inviting me?”

“Someone has to remain and run the company.
Though if you cannot stay out of your cups for the next week, I may have to
seriously consider revoking Dr Welker’s invitation.”

~*~

“Am I an
amadán
for agreeing to marry him?”

“Do you still love him?”

Ophelia sighed as she shed her heels. She was leaving for
Spain the day after next and work had been an all-out sprint. Unfortunately, it
also meant that it was well after midnight in Dublin when she was finally able
to ring her mother.

“The laws of our faith allow us to handfast for a year and a day
without shame. But what good is even a year-long marriage if you don’t love
him,
Muirnín
?”

“You were not in love with
Athair
.”

“I mistakenly married your
athair
, thinking that we
would grow to love each other in time. The idea of being able to finish my
graduate program without any more financial stress was also welcome. I didn’t
know that I was simply Norman’s ticket into Manhattan’s upper class…or that the
only reason he shared a bed with me was to sire an heir for his blossoming
empire.”

Ophelia hesitated. Talk of her parents’ arranged marriage
brought to mind a subject she had yet to broach with her mother.

“Were you aware of Project Rose?”

“Something to do with you, I presume?”

She tried a different tact.
“Do you remember
having a lot of problems conceiving me?”

“Not with the actual conception, no,” Emily replied. “I know
that there were a lot of questions about whether we could conceive, however. I
was tested twice and your
athair
two or three times.

“There were also a lot of consultations that I was not a part
of. You would think that your
athair
was the one getting pregnant, as
much time as he spent on the subject!”

Silence hung heavily on the line, until Emily asked,

“Why? What do you know?”

Ophelia sighed.
“Those
hours
Athair
claimed were spent in
meetings were actually spent in the laboratory. He was altering my genetics.”

If she had been any younger, Ophelia might have pressed her
mother, insisting that Emmeline tell her if she loved her any less. Instead,
the young woman focused on the impact of her words and waited for her mother’s
response.

“How many know?”

“That is information I am not privy to. I
shared it freely with David and grudgingly with Harry…I have not yet found the
right opportunity to tell Eduardo.”

“You may
never
find the opportunity. Now is not the
time to bring up the circumstances of your conception. I wouldn’t address the
issue at all, unless he begins to grow suspicious…like if you suddenly manifest
telekinesis during pregnancy.”

Emily sighed. “Regardless of how you came into being, I know
you aren’t Norman; I trust that you will marry Eduardo—or whichever man you
choose—because he fills you with bliss. The decision, of course, is ultimately
yours. Just ensure that you aren’t getting married in an attempt to save an
already failing relationship.”