Author's Note: Greetings. Yet another story concept has sprouted in my head. -Long sigh.- Dear god, help me with my rapid and stupid brain, haha. I need all the help I can get. Too many ideas! Gahhh. Anyway. Welcome to The Devil's Child, a story, as you've guessed, about a man taking in a child. What happens after is kind of.. interesting. Please enjoy!
Jackie Hons was a huge business owner. He ran various branches.. whether for charity, medicine, food or machinery. He had many facilities and corporations under the family name and all knew of him. He had a hardened reputation that trickled down from his father, the previous owner, and his own years of work. He was a serious man with a mysterious air to him. He was the quiet and stoic type.
He was not only the man you feared because he was so quiet but the man you respected due to his wealth and status. He was sought after by women, challened by competitors and targeted by the shadows. He was a man of standing.. and a man of attention.
His car idled out beyond the doors, personal driver Franklin Morris waiting silently behind the wheel of the silver classy four-door car. He turned to his hired and close aid, studying the dressy woman with her blonde hair in a high bun, her flawless and make-up concealed face in his view. Cool green eyes searched his own sapphire orbs, patiently awaiting an answer to her question.
He arched a brow, having been momentarily lost in a distant thought, before nodding to her. "Have the files transferred to Richard at SiCo." SiCo was one of the medical-based facilities he oversaw as being a lead owner and manager.
"Understood sir." Her soft voice replied as she turned to the notepad clutched in her arms. Her heels clicked on hard tile of the ground floor to Howard's Hardline, a founding technological company to the new and latest medical and educational equipment.
He gazed at her retreating white dressed and curved body before peering toward his ride. It was time to head back to the mansion.
He stepped out those doors, the clouded sunlight filtering over his six foot frame. His lean body moved with the grace of one used to acting professional.
The driver door clicked and out popped Franklin, who walked around to open the back right door for him, his favored seat. "Jackie." The older man greeted.
"Franklin." He slid into the seat, the door closing behind him. Franklin got behind the wheel and they peeled away from the building of his morning meeting.
"How did the questions and speech go?" Franklin flicked his eyes to the rear-view mirror, raising a brow in open wonder.
Jackie quirked a smile, gazing out the window with a glazed look in his eyes. "It went better than expected. Carlisle was very.. eager to agree when he learned the proposition came from my father before his untimely.. death." He released a sigh.
Franklin furrowed his brows. "Yes, I recall.." Franklin had been his father's butler, having stayed with the family since he was a young adult. He was loved and respected.
The death of his father was of no natural cause. It was common knowledge that a competitor had him killed but there was hardly any evidence to prove it. Jason McCarthy was as clean cut as they come, slick as oil and smooth as silk. He was a man to be feared. At the time nothing but revenge would have sated the young Jackie's hard but Franklin had talked him out of it.
"How are you feeling, sir?"
He was pulled from his bleak past by the question of his friend and driver, blinking clear his eyes as he turned to acknowledge the man.
"Like I've been hit by a bus- and I don't mean that physically." He answered honestly.
Franklin chuckled and understood his sorrows. "A nice long bath and wine might cheer your hopes, sir."
He smirked at the thought of relaxing. "Perhaps."
He closed his eyes and waited for his home to be before him.
"Looks like it is going to rain."
He flicked his eyes open just as the first droplets splashed onto the windows and then suddenly rain was everywhere, a thick layer enveloping the area.
His smile reappeared and grew in size.
"My favorite weather." He muttered.
A chuckle from the front seat pulled his attention to the butler. "Has been since you were old enough to understand rain. Even before you would sit before the window and watch it in curiosity."
He laughed heartily, nodding. "Yeah." He turned his focus back to the woods flicking by. They were traveling through the countryside to a large property set back with his home in the middle. There, he could read, write, sketch-
His thoughts were jarred as the sound of squealing brakes snatched his ears in a loud pitch. He jerked his head to face the front, alert instantly.
An object was laying on the road dead ahead and only by the grace of some higher power had Franklin even seen it in time to come to a screeching halt.
"Sir!" His friend called in surprise, peering back at him.
He undid the clasp on the back of the passenger seat and retrieved the hidden gun inside. His father had been overly cautious for good reason. "Wait here." He said softy, checking the gun's ammo before opening his door to step into the rain.
He approached the small, but long shadowed object in the center of the road. The water before him sloshed and began to appear as if tinted red. His brows scrunched in confusion as he drew closer, the object not stirring.
From the looks of it with the closer he got the object was clad in a deep cloak and was laying on it's side, facing away. It was a person, by the frame he could vaguely define beneath the cloak and one he knew not.
He aimed the gun, crouched, extended a hand and..
..turned the form to lay on it's back.
He gasped in surprise at what his eyes met.
It was a young boy, hands clutching his left hip where blood, mixed with water, seeped out. His pale face was twisted in pain and he groaned softly, black hair clinging to his face.
He tucked his gun into his belt line, grasping the boy to pull him into a sitting position, being as careful as possible.
"Lad, can you hear me?" He asked tentatively.
The boy peaked his right eye open and cool grey eyes greeted him. "I-I.. ca..n.." His voice was a mere whisper and he had to lean in to catch it.
"You are.. injured! Where are your parents?"
The boy shook his head, groaning again.
He made a decision.
He shifted the boy closer, weaving his arms around him as he clutched him, raising with the boy close to his chest. He carried him to the car, where Franklin stood, holding the door open.
"Sir?" The older man asked in confusion.
He placed the boy into the back seat and slid in to hold him up, glancing to his friend. "To the house, Franklin. This boy needs medical attention fast."
Franklin nodded and hopped in, trailing the paths back to the house at a decent pace with this now blasted rain.