Summary: After 21 years of life without a father, a mother's will reveals a secret that changes Charlie's life forever. Vince McMahon wants nothing more than to have Charlie become part of his family. Randy Orton wants nothing more than to be with the girl he knows is off-limits. Set in 2003-2004, during the age of Evolution, High for This is the story of Charlotte "Charlie" Cohen, her newfound relationship with her biological father, the rejection and jealousy of her half-sister, the friendships she forms with the talent on the road, and the forbidden love for the boy they all call "trouble".
Disclaimer: WWE has rights over all the talent (real people!) mentioned in this story. I only own Charlie and other characters that merely exist as pixels on the interwebs.
A/N: Hello! I've got a new story for you. I'm still working on Shelter, so don't worry if you're following that story because I still have plans to continue it. I've had this idea for High for This marinating in my brain for a while, and figured I'd put it into writing. This first chapter is more like a prologue since it's mostly backstory before the real story begins. Hopefully, based off the summary you have some idea on the direction of this story, and it'll be enough to convince you to read and review this chapter. I hope you enjoy. Much love and appreciation.
Heaven only knows how the world lost its light when her mother's dark, tortured mind had finally ceased. The green light flat lined as the nurses pulled the tubes and pushed carts of metal into another room, for another patient, for another lost cause. If she listened well enough, she would hear the collective sigh of every middle-aged trophy wife in Manhattan. On that day in December, Stella Cohen succumbed to brain cancer. On that day in December, her daughter looked into her lifeless face and finally had the courage to tell her she loved her.
Charlie wrapped her hands around the warm cup of black coffee as she watched the snow cover every inch of her Brooklyn side street. It had been exactly two weeks since the terrible snowstorm rocked New York City, That same day, she watched as her mother's body was wheeled into the morgue, tagged, and sent off to the funeral home. Now, Charlie was alone in the two-bedroom loft they used to share. Suddenly, the space felt too big, the temperature too cold, and the coffee too bitter.
She walked to the kitchen sink and didn't hesitate when she dumped the black liquid down the drain. She rifled through a stack of mail that had accumulated in the last few weeks: utilities bills, hospital bills, and an eviction notice. Her mother was stage four and incurable when she told her daughter. Stella thought she was doing the girl a favor by not adding any more unnecessary hospital expenses to their mountain of debt. Stella figured she was going to die anyway. Why fight the disease when she and Charlie would be only worse off in the end? Charlie didn't understand why her mother kept the cancer from her for so long; but in Stella's mind, she was sacrificing her life to save her daughter's.
Charlie pulled the phone on the edge of the counter and listened to the voicemails she had successfully ignored the last few days. Most were from friends and distant relatives who sent out their condolences, but a set of different messages came from one particular number. She read the ID on the screen: Stewart Newman Law Firm.
"Ms. Charlotte Cohen, this is George Stewart from Stewart Newman Law Firm, Manhattan. There are urgent matters I need to discuss regarding your mother. My condolences, by the way. You can reach me or my secretary through this number, so that you may arrange a meeting that would be of your convenience. I am looking forward to meeting you, Ms. Cohen. Have a good day."
Have a good day? She scoffed at the idea. This George Stewart was most likely calling to remind her of how much her mother owed the state of New York. That message was sent out a week ago – the day of her mother's funeral. She clicked the green button and waited as the next message played.
"Ms. Cohen, this is Lindsey Palmer of Stewart Newman Law Firm. I'm Attorney Stewart's secretary. I'm calling to follow up on a meeting to discuss urgent matters concerning your mother, Stella Cohen. My boss insists that you meet with him as soon as possible as it concerns your mother's will. If you do not return this phone call within a week, Attorney Stewart will be forced to procure a subpoena in order for you to witness and testify on these said matters. Have a good day, Ms. Cohen."
The message was sent exactly five days ago, which didn't give her much time before the lawyer would threaten her with a subpoena and drag her ass over to Manhattan. She rolled her eyes as she called his office to tell them she was on her way. For the last two weeks, she had lived in oversized hoodies and sweatpants with her dark hair pulled up in a loose knot on top of her head. Her mother had just died; she had neither the time nor the interest to shower or pull on some decent clothes. Charlie pulled on her down parka, and a pair of untied combat boots, and picked up her keys and Metro Card off the counter. By the time the subway reached Midtown, her life would never be the same.
Charlie stepped off the elevator and entered the lobby of Stewart Newman Law Firm. She took the directions of the receptionist and sat at the lobby as she waited for George Stewart, himself, to pick her up. Moments later, a silver-haired man stood before her and introduced himself as the co-founding lawyer of the firm. Charlie shook Attorney Stewart's hand and walked with him through the hallways of the firm; she observed the diamond cufflinks on his shirt and the navy Armani suit that was tailored to his body. As they walked, Stewart turned briefly to address her.
"Ms. Cohen, as you know we're here to discuss your mother's will."
"I didn't even know she had a will," replied Charlie.
"Well, you see, your mother wrote her will a month before she passed. She mailed it to a DA's office in Brooklyn and as expected, it was cast aside into a pile of junk mail. That is, until a client of mine learned about your mother's death. See, my clint has a vested interest in Stella Cohen. He personally asked me to looking into your mother's history and her will."
"A client?" Charlie thought about the possible client. It could have been one of her mother's boyfriends; but that was unlikely considering she had stopped the "business" over four years ago. Names and faces flashed across her mind as she tried to remember the men who had walked in and out of her mother's life. The faces who stood out were the CEOs, retired athletes, and politicians who could shell out the money to afford her mother's services. While they treated Stella as their lover outside their miserable marriages, they never loved her; so why would they care about her now?
"My client is an old friend of your mother's. His name is Vince McMahon and he's the Chairman of World Wrestling Entertainment or WWE – you might've heard of it. See, two and a half weeks ago, Mr. McMahon received a letter from your mother that hinted certain things of which my client has been suspicious for years. He called me several days later to ask me about it, but by the time we had located your mother she had already passed away; and by the time he flew back from a business trip in Hong Kong, you had already buried her." George Stewart stopped in front of his office and turned towards Charlie, "I promised my client the will so I had my associates call every law firm and district attorney's office in the city. It took a few days to find it but when I did, I called Vince."
In all her life, Charlie had never heard of the name Vince McMahon and especially not associated with her mother. She was so confused, but she was here to get answers, "What does the will say?"
Instead of answering her question, Stewart opened the frosted glass door of his office and led her inside. His office was a bright, open room with a desk, sitting area, and a wall of shelves housing leather-bound books, awards, and sports memorabilia. He must represent a lot of athletes, Charlie thought as she studied pictures of George Stewart with football, baseball, and basketball players. She scanned the room and met the brown eyes of a square-jawed man in an equally expensive, tailored suit. He stood from the leather couch and held out his hand, "Charlotte, I'm Vince McMahon." She shook his hand and noted how his handshake was both firm and lingering. George asked them both to take a seat as he began to open the manila envelope that contained Stella Cohen's will.
"This is the last will and testament of Stella Amelia Cohen," read Stewart, "I revoke all former wills and testaments made by me and declare this to be my last will. If I should die, I leave all my possessions to my one and only daughter, Charlotte Amelia Cohen. She inherits all the money in my accounts, the loft in Brooklyn, and the artwork I have collected over the years. I know that I am leaving her with very little. In fact, I know I am leaving her with my debt and the consequences of my irresponsible behavior and disastrous decisions, which is why I am seeking the support of a person who should be Charlotte's legal guardian."
"I appoint Charlotte Cohen to be the executor of my will and trustee of my possessions. My trustee has sole power in executing the provisions of my will, so if she sees fit not to abide by my wishes then my testament is void."
"It is my wish that Vincent Kennedy McMahon be the legal guardian of Charlotte Amelia Cohen. His responsibilities include supporting, financing, and providing legal assistance to Charlotte as she continues forward. But if the trustee, Charlotte, wishes not to be involved with Vince and to nullify the will, then so be it. Though, I encourage her to take this opportunity to meet the man I had made the mistake of keeping from her from these last twenty-one years. I empower Vince to fulfill his role not just as Charlotte's legal guardian, but also as her father."
The air in the room felt heavy and thick. Charlie stood up and ignored the hand that reached up to her. She walked slowly towards the window and looked at the snowcapped skyline of the city. She could see her mother's face in the clouds. A smirk formed on her full lips as if to tell her, "Ha! One last unwelcome surprise from your dear mother."
Charlie closed her eyes and let the words in the will sink in. The first part was obvious. She was getting everything, including her mother's debt. She was also getting autonomy over the will, which would have been a sweet deal had it not been for that huge confession in the end. "By the way, Charlie, this random man I'm appointing your legal guardian happens to be your father."
She turned around to meet Vince in the eye, "How long have you known?"
"About you?" questioned Vince, "I… It's complicated."
She scoffed; leave it to Stella Cohen to complicate all relationships she had her hands on. Charlie stood firm by the window and exchanged questioning looks at the two men sitting in the office. Two big shots in suits walked into her life that day and really made a mess of things.
"I was having an affair with your mother for two years back in 1982-1983. I was on the road a lot and my marriage was suffering so I found comfort and reassurance in Stella. I thought it would be a one-time thing, but it became so much more than that. There are many indiscretions against my wife and my family that I regret, but I have trouble regretting what I had with your mother." Like a man filled with guilt, Vince held his face in his hands before he continued, "In March 1983, Stella was distraught. It took a while before she admitted she was pregnant. I panicked. I had a wife and two kids back home in Connecticut. I left without a word and I didn't contact her for weeks. A month later, guilt consumed me and I told my wife, who had already known I was having an affair, that I had gotten Stella pregnant. My wife, Linda, was upset but that time in our relationship made us a hell of a lot stronger. She supported me and encouraged me to go back to New York and fulfill my responsibilities as a father. I had to tell your mother that I would be there for our baby."
"When I arrived at her apartment, she was trying to pack all her clothes in this little suitcase. She told me she was leaving for Moscow to live with her grandmother. Then that's when she told me I didn't have to worry anymore because she aborted the baby."
Vince was a man of strong features and hard angles, but at that moment, his shoulders were slumped and his eyes brimmed with tears. Stella had told Charlie for the last twenty-one years that she didn't know who her father was. Considering Stella had been a call girl for most of her life, it didn't surprise Charlie that her mother had no idea which one of her clients could be the girl's father. For Charlie, it was too much of a painful reminder to ever attempt to look him up. She resigned to the idea that she would never know her dad, and she accepted it.
"It destroyed me to know that my fear and my selfishness had pushed her to that point," Vince continued as he recounted the events that happened over two decades ago, "It destroyed me when I found out the baby that we could have had was now gone. Stella left for Russia that day and I had never seen her again. As much as I wanted to move on and become a better husband to my wife and a better father to my kids, thoughts of your mother and the baby ate away at the back of my mind. Sometimes, I wondered what it would be like to have another child. Then I started to have these doubts of whether or not she kept the baby, but I tried so hard to stop myself because things were going so well for the family and I didn't want to screw up all over again."
"Those doubts were confirmed weeks ago when I received a letter from your mother. In the letter she tells me that she kept this secret from me, and in it she tells me all about you."
"She tells me that you like your coffee black but your tea with heaps of milk and sugar. She tells me that you've danced ballet since you were a little girl, but you're also the loudest fan at a Yankee game. She says you graduated NYU recently with a degree in Film. You have a gift but sometimes you're too scared to show it. You have a smile that lights up a room. She says you're 5'4" with olive skin and brown hair. You have heterochromia iridum where you have a little bit of her green eyes and a little bit of mine."
The air felt thick and the walls seemed as if they were closing in on her. She braced herself on the window ledge and breathed hard. "I'm sorry, Vince, for what my mother has put you through. I can't imagine what it's like to be told that your child was aborted and then to learn twenty-one years later that she's actually alive," Charley paused as she walked towards the center of the room and took the empty space on the couch beside her father. "I'm sure you're a good guy, Vince. You say things are good with your family now and it should remain that way. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm going to void my mother's will."
Vince nodded, "I understand, Charlotte."
"Please, call me Charlie."
"Ok, Charlie. I understand where you're coming from and I accept your decision," replied Vince, "But I just want to let you know that my wife has known about the possibility that I have a child with Stella for years, and my children are at that age where they are old enough to know and accept that they have a younger sister. You have nothing to worry about in terms of my family. I understand that you want to be independent, but I want you to know that you are my daughter and I would love it if you were part of my family… part of my life."
Charlie was speechless. All her life it had just been her and her mom sharing a small apartment in Brooklyn. Her mom's family escaped the genocide in Eastern Europe, moved to America, and relocated back to their roots in Russia. They were the only permanent fixtures in each other's lives. Now, this man she had just met but is part of her entire being was asking her to become a part of his life.
"I know it's a lot to ask so soon, but if we could hold out on your decision until you meet the family. Spend the holidays with us in Connecticut. You can stay in our guesthouse and have all the privacy you need. I'll arrange your transportation, I'll get everything sorted just the way you like…"
Charlie was so overwhelmed by Vince's proposal she didn't know what to do except turn to George Stewart, who had remained silent throughout the conversation between the newfound father and daughter.
"Charlie, think about it," Stewart advised, "Now, I know you said you wanted to void the will, but I think you should give it time and seriously consider it. The last thing I want to do is reduce this intimate moment into practical, financial matters, but I have no choice. Charlie, your mother has left you with just over $250,000 dollars of debt from uninsured hospital visits to unpaid lawyer fees. On top of the student aid you have to start paying off next year and the rising costs of your rent, you won't be able to stay afloat. Please consider the financial support that Vince can provide."
Her head was spinning. She knew her mother had taken out loans and maxed out a couple credit cards paying for their bills, but she had no idea the extent of her mom's debt was in the six-figure range. Her expression read hopeless and Vince couldn't help but feel pity for the girl. Twenty-one at the boundary between student and young professional, and she had more problems and liabilities than most people her age. Charlie turned to Vince, "I can't ask you to help me pay for any of that. That's too much."
Vince shook his head, "It's the least I can do, Charlie. I have failed as a father and the least I can do is ensure that you move forward with your life without having to worry about money."
"You haven't failed as a father. You didn't even know about me."
"I shouldn't have cast aside my doubts. I should have looked for you sooner."
George Stewart spoke up, "Charlie, I'm sure you're aware that your landlord has posted a notice for your eviction. The deadline of your rent and $6,000 dollars in unpaid rent and late fees is due tomorrow and if you can't get that money to him, you're forced to move out."
She shifted in her seat and looked straight down at the scuff marks on her black boots. Charlie had grown up all right with her mother's job allowing them a nice apartment in a trendy area, new clothes, and a full fridge of food. They didn't have many luxuries, but they didn't struggle either. But after the cancer treatments and the drugs, it ate away at their savings and Charlie could now say she was truly poor.
"I can't let you live this way, Charlie. Please, let me help you," Vince begged, reaching for her hand. Charlie didn't pull away. She let her father hold her hand for the first time in her life. His hand over hers was warm and comforting. She wasn't the type to give up like her mother. She was always working hard for a better life and always fighting for values and principles that mattered to her.
Abraham Lincoln once said, "I have been driven many times upon my knees by the conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My own wisdom, and that of all about me, seemed insufficient for the day."
Charlie felt like she had nowhere else to go and there was nothing she could do to get out of the problems that were piling up in her life. The truth was, she had a place to go and the doors were ready, wide open, and welcoming.
"I'll do it… I'll follow the will… I'll let you help me."
