Hope you're all enjoying! Thank you for the reviews and support and enjoy the chapter (with some Moriarty, finally!)
Flashback
Annabel was seventeen. She stood outside her mother's car, wrapping a black pea coat tightly around her shoulders. A suitcase of clothes sat next to her on the ground. The passenger side door of the car was open, but she couldn't bring herself to step inside the car. Everything was changing.
Her mother rushed from the house.
"Come on, Annabel, get in the car. We'll be late," she called as she rushed around to the driver's side and wrenched open the door.
Annabel stood silently on the curb. Her mother glanced out the window at her stubborn daughter and sighed deeply.
"Sweetheart, please get in. We've talked about this, and-"
"No, Mom, you've talked about it. I've sat and listened. I've protested and said no at every possible opportunity. But you're still making me do this!" Annabel's voice escalated, her anger rising with each word. "I'm not a child anymore! You can't tell me what to do, and you certainly can't make me live with him!"
"Annabel Joan Moriarty, get in this car right now," her mother's anger rivaled Annabel's own. "You are still a child, legally, and as such require a legal guardian. Your father-"
"Has no idea we're coming, to start!" Annabel cut her mother off. She slowed her breathing and got her emotions under control. "Mom, he doesn't even know I'm alive. You said so yourself. Why can't you just take me with you?"
Her mother sighed, closing her eyes.
"I know it doesn't seem like it, sweetheart, but I'm doing this to protect you. You're all I've got, and I couldn't bear losing you. Even if it means I have to give you up for a little while." Her mother's eyes glazed over with tears. "Trust me, Annabel?"
She stood rigid outside the car. Then, nodding slowly to her mother, Annabel picked up the suitcase and carried it into the car. Her mother grabbed her hand, squeezing it, then started the engine and drove away from their house. As they sped down the street, Annabel stared at the quiet neighborhood. The houses, the trees, the neighbors, her friends – she had the sinking feeling she would never see them again. After a few minutes, the stress of the past few days, combined with the lull of the engine, allowed Annabel to fall into a restless sleep.
"Annabel," her mother's voice broke through clouded dreams. "Sweetheart, we're here. Come on, grab your bag."
She sat up and looked around. They were somewhere in London, outside a block that looked extremely expensive. Outside the car, cabs and bikers sped down the busy street. The sidewalk was filled with pedestrians, with locals and tourists and businesspeople, all streaming about and buying papers and food from street carts outside buildings. It was so lively and foreign. Quickly, she grabbed her bag and opened the door, jumping out onto the sidewalk. Her mother walked ahead to the door of the block and spoke quietly to the doorman. He nodded, and then disappeared inside the building. After a few moments, he returned, and ushered Annabel and her mother inside the block.
Together, they rode the lift to the penthouse. Annabel kept her eyes on the ground while her mother fidgeted nervously beside her. A sharp ding announced their arrival. The doorman smiled and let them out. He rode the lift back down behind them. They were alone, facing a door with an ornately carved knocker gracing its mahogany surface. Her mother offered Annabel a tight smile. Then she grabbed it and knocked three times.
Within seconds, the door was wrenched open. On the other side stood a man of small stature, yet he still towered over Annabel. His brown hair was slicked back, away from his face. A crisp white shirt was tucked into fitted dress pants that travelled down to rest on black dress shoes. But what caught Annabel's attention were his eyes. They were dark, dark and ominous and threatening. They held evidence of thinly veiled violence. The man smiled, a cold gesture that did not reach his eyes.
"Penelope. What a nice surprise," he said in a voice that suggested this surprise was anything but pleasant. His voice lilted with an Irish accent.
Her mother smiled back.
"Jim. It's been far too long. Do you mind if we come in?"
"But of course," he drawled, stepping away from the door and gesturing into the living room.
Annabel stepped over the doorway and stifled a gasp. The flat was beautiful, enormous, with no expenses spared. Jim – her father, she reminded herself – clearly had money. Lots of money. Her eyes wandered from the orate bookcases to the gilded chandelier, taking in the beauty of the room.
"Like it?" his voice asked softly from behind her.
She whirled around, shocked to find him standing mere inches from her. He stared intently at her face. Intimidated by his harsh stare, Annabel moved her eyes to the ground. A soft finger underneath her chin pulled her face back to his. She wanted to back away under his eyes, but she remained firm, returning his stare. Suddenly, he pushed her face to the side and stalked over to her mother, who was observing their silent exchange with an air of curiosity.
"Penelope, would you come with me, please?" Jim asked, in a voice that signaled to both Annabel and her mother that the question was rhetorical.
Her mother stood, nodded and smiled at Annabel, then followed Jim into a side room. The door slammed behind them. Annabel was alone. She walked away from her suitcase and wandered around the room, finally deciding to sit on a wide, leather couch located just outside the closed door. From her spot, she could hear snippets of conversation that became increasingly louder as they went on.
"Your daughter, Jim…"
"It's about time, Penny…"
"I couldn't…you understand…"
"No, I do not…it doesn't matter now…business…"
"Please, Jim…don't do this...anything else…"
"No…we had a deal…"
Annabel cringed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. That all she was, all she ever was. Her mother's secret. Her father's surprise. A liability. She stood, blocking out the rest of their conversation as she grabbed her discarded suitcase and made her way to the door. She would leave. Nobody here wanted her anyways.
"Wait."
The voice startled Annabel. She turned around to find Jim staring at her from the doorway, his arms crossed across his chest, his hair slightly disheveled.
"Come over here," he said.
She knew better than to disobey. She had only known her father for minutes, yet she quickly realized he was a person accustomed to being obeyed. Silently, she walked to his side and entered the room. Her mother stood in the middle, her eyes brimming with tears and her hands shaking. Conversely, Jim was the model of calmness. His eyes betrayed no emotion as he stalked over to Annabel with hands held stiffly in his pockets.
"Your mother tells me you're special," he said, putting emphasis on the last word. "Want to tell me why she thinks so, sweetheart?"
She heard no love in his voice, only curiosity tinged with annoyance and malice. Annabel looked to her mother, who nodded at her through teary eyes.
"Go on, Annabel," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Show him."
Annabel sighed. She understood what was happening here. Jim didn't want a daughter. Her mother was in deep with bad people. The only way Jim would take her in was if she proved useful to his purposes. She weighed her options. Clearly, she wasn't leaving with her mother. She had no desire to stay with her father, but she had nowhere else to go. No family, no friends nearby, no way of supporting herself in this huge, imposing city. She was trapped. She saw no other choice but to prove herself to her father. Annabel turned to face him.
"My mother has told me nothing about you. All I know, I know from our thirty minutes spent together."
She paused. He nodded. She began.
"James Moriarty. Irish. Lived in London for twenty years. You're wealthy and you flaunt it, yet money is unimportant to you. You're an addict…addicted to mental games and the thrill of the game. But what game?"
She circled him as he stood perfectly still. Suddenly, she stopped. Her eyed widened, the slight smile she always wore when deducing and visiting her mind palace fell from her face.
"Consulting criminal. That's your addiction. High-end crime. Controlling every aspect of the game and every player in it."
Annabel turned her back on Jim and faced her mother.
"You knew, didn't you?" she asked softly. "You knew who he was. What he is and what he does. And you still want to leave me with him. Why?"
Her mother sighed. She walked over to Annabel and raised her hands to her face, attempting to comfort her daughter. Annabel turned to the side. Her mother cringed, but didn't try to stop her.
"I'm so sorry, Annabel. So sorry. I got in deep with the wrong people a few months ago. They were never going to leave us alone. I contacted Jim," she gestured to her father, who stood silently to the side, "And he agreed to help, under one condition."
Her mother's voice wavered, but she regained control.
"I've kept your father updated on you. He's watched you grow up through me. And I've told him about your…skills," she said, her voice hesitating slightly at the word. "When he agreed to take care of the people after me, he did so under the stipulation that you would come under his care until you come of age."
Her mother's eyes softened. "It's only a year, Annabel," she whispered. "Please, sweetheart, understand that I'm doing this to protect you."
Annabel's world started to spin. Everything was going dark. She felt the attack coming on, but this time, could do nothing to stop it. As she crouched to the floor and began to lose consciousness, she heard the shouts of her father calling for someone unseen. Strong hands lifted her from the floor. Then everything went black.