A/N: Hello loves! I crawled out of the rock I was hiding under to give you this overdue chapter. It's the first part of a long – loooong – chapter. I wanted to send this out last week but I was held hostage by that nuisance called work. If only I can ditch my day job and do this for a living. Alas, I don't have the required skill. Consider this as my apology. Big – huge – thanks to my ever-patient beta, amandagm. She is – excuse my French – fuck awesome! And big shout out to realjena, who is just the sweetest!
Lilith Catarina Ocella-Northman stood in front of the glass window of her cavernous office on the top floor of the North tower. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the ivory base of her customized cane as she fixed her eyes at the sky. She was a picture of perfection in her white dress suit and neatly-coiffed silver hair.
A lonely queen perched on her throne.
She had never spoken a single word since she came in that morning. What else was there to say?
Desmond Cataliades's negligence robbed her of a good night sleep. Since his indiscretions had been exposed in the most degrading way possible, her phone had been ringing off the hook with associates and major clients bombarding her with relentless queries.
"Have you heard?"
She had, of course. Desmond was her most-trusted confidant; if he so much as sneezed, she'd hear about it.
"Did you know he was batting for the other team?"
She had to pause and ask her assistant what that phrase meant. Familiarizing herself with colloquial language wasn't something she'd bother with. She merely replied with a dismissive, 'No, I did not.' Desmond's sexual orientation was something she had chosen to ignore. His usefulness outweighed his queerness.
But it wasn't the usual gossipmongers who troubled her the most. Some callers, one in particular, didn't want answers, only solutions.
"Fix this, Lilith. The last thing this company needs is a scandal."
She could still hear Russell Edgington's thin and scratchy voice in her head. Lilith might have the controlling share in the company but Russell had absolute control of the board. One word from Edgington and the board members would not hesitate to oust her as chairman.
"Ma'am, they're ready for you," said her PR consultant, Nan Flanagan, pulling her out of her sullen thoughts.
"I'll be right out," she replied without looking.
"The board members have already been briefed. I've also made a list of all possible questions the reporters might ask." The middle-aged woman with pin straight blonde hair handed Lilith a thin black folder. "Most of them will want to address you since you have a personal relationship with Attorney Cataliades. After I deliver our official statement - that we are terminating Attorney Cataliades's employment as the company's chief legal advisor for personal indiscretion - I will be opening the floor for questions."
Lilith went behind her massive mahogany desk and made a quick scan of the list. She flipped the folder close and clasped hands tight above it. "Remind me again why this needs to be an open forum?"
The head of the PR department took the seat across from her and smiled. "To humanize you. Make you look like you weren't carved in stone. Because with all due respect, ma'am, this is a PR nightmare and sadly, we are in the epicenter of the madness. With Attorney Cataliades's credibility in question it is up to you to convince everyone that this company still merits unquestionable trust."
Unquestionable trust?
If they only knew that her bond with Desmond was based solely on that.
E/S
Ten years ago…
Her fingers trembled as she traced the faint scar on her wrist. She could have had it surgically removed but she wanted to keep it. It reminded her of her victory. Taking off her black gloves, she pushed a series of miniscule buttons on her mobile phone.
It rang four times before the person on the other line picked up. She must have woken him up. It was, after all, a little past one in the morning on his side of the country.
"Hello?"
"Desmond, it's me." She didn't have to say her name. "I did something terrible. I need your help."
She waited a heartbeat before she heard his response. He must have gone somewhere so as not to rouse his wife.
"Where are you?" he whispered.
"Illinois."
"My god," she heard him gasp. "Don't tell me…"
"I did."
"I'll make some calls. I'll have someone pick you up in less than an hour. Stay put," he ordered. Normally, it would be the other way around, but under the circumstances, she had no choice but to oblige. "And Lilith, trust no one. No one but me."
That's when she learned that trust – absolute trust – came with an absolute price.
E/S
Present day…
"For the record: you are disavowing Attorney Cataliades because of his 'sexual preference'?" asked pointedly by one of the journalists, a tall, bearded man with long brown hair.
Nan Flanagan leaned toward the microphone. "Nothing could be further from the truth," she objected. "We are not discriminating against Attorney Cataliades for his sexual orientation. This is because of his infidelity to his spouse; we simply have no confidence in him anymore, which I'm certain you can all understand."
A young woman in her late twenties, who Flanagan addressed as Diane from the Los Angeles Sentinel, raised her pen. "Mrs. Northman?" Diane asked, zeroing in on Lilith. "You've been friends with Attorney Cataliades for a long time, yes?"
Lilith shot Nan a look. This was exactly why she didn't like question-and-answer portions. She was giving somebody the liberty to be a moron around her.
Lilith cleared her throat and replied, "Yes." Brevity had always been her forte.
"I actually had the chance to speak with Attorney Cataliades earlier and he said and I quote, 'My only crime is to love someone I wasn't supposed to.' Being his friend, what is your reaction to that?"
A moment passed before Lilith leaned in and, with a low voice, countered, "Aren't we all guilty of that?"
E/S
Five decades ago…
Lilith had fallen in love with the same man twice and he had broken her heart more times than she would ever admit.
She was in her second year in Uppsala University when she met him. The school was holding a Christmas charity gala for the renovation of the orangery and botanical garden. The Ocellas were among the major sponsors for the silent auction and Lilith's attendance was mandatory. A sophomore in a course she loathed, Lilith was, to say the least, not a jolly participant in the festivities. The entire night, all she did was evade her father and the majority of the crowd. She found a perfect hiding place in one of the secluded patios of the gargantuan lake house owned by the Northmans – the event's host.
Only she wasn't alone.
There, leaning against the wrought iron balcony with his back to her, was a tall man with long golden hair tied in a low ponytail.
Lilith, thinking that her targeted nook was already spoken for, turned and was on her way to the main hall when his voice made her halt.
"Ett slöseri med en bra lördag kväll (A waste of a good Saturday night)," the man said with a theatrical sigh.
Lilith smiled curiously.
"My apologies but I'm afraid I only speak English."
The man with the pale blue eyes whisked halfway to smirk at her. "Don't you think it's rude to be in a country and not bother to learn its language? Skam, du ser utbildade. (Shame, you look educated.)"
"I am educated!" The words were out of her petulant mouth before she realized her gaffe.
He grinned triumphantly, exposing a set of white, even teeth. He whirled and resumed his former position of resting his arms on the rail while looking over the lake. Lilith, who was watching his every move, caught a flicker of something silver inside his black dinner jacket: a liquor flask.
"Since we're both here, would you mind deflowering my Virgin White Russian?" she asked coquettishly, extending her small glass of hazel-color cocktail to him.
His eyes flickered back to her, visibly amused at her request. "This is a school event; even the water they're serving is virgin."
She laughed at his retort but refused to yield. "Don't be greedy. I can smell vodka wafting from your coat."
He shook his head amusedly before he reached inside his pocket and handed her the flask. "You can have it all. Enjoy."
Lilith could feel the lightness of the metal container. She gave it a little jiggle and shot him a look. "It's almost empty."
He merely shrugged. "I've been here a while."
She dropped the remaining liquor in her cocktail then returned the flask. "Thank you," she mumbled, "I'm Lilith Ocella by the way." She haughtily waited for the reaction –usually a gasp - that she was certain would follow at her announcement. The Ocellas were known all over Sweden. To her surprise and dismay, her revelation didn't generate such a reaction, not even a slight quiver of a brow.
"Lilith," he parroted, "the demon goddess."
There was a gasp alright, only it didn't come from him. "I beg your pardon?" she hissed indignantly.
"Your name," he pointed out, unfazed at her flare-up, "it means -"
"Demon goddess, I know," she cut him off crisply. "I've heard them all. Night creature; the first wife of Adam who slept with Satan and retreated to live by the Red Sea. I am aware of the colorful etymologies of my name, unfortunately for me, my parents weren't."
That earned her a laugh - a boisterous clang that echoed in the air.
"Shall we make a toast then?" He raised his empty flask. "To atrocious names."
She tapped her glass with his flask and took a small sip of her de-virginized White Russian. "Care to tell me what's yours?"
"Godfrey."
"That doesn't sound horrible at all."
"Who says it is? Unlike you, I'm quite fond of my name."
She scoffed. "Aren't you a charmer?"
"That I am. Just ask my mother. She's around here somewhere - not looking for me."
"She is?" She couldn't hide the excitement in her voice. If his mother was among the guests, then it meant she, too, was a sponsor.
Unless… she was the help.
"Who's your mother? I might know her."
"Sofina."
"Sofina," she repeated, not quite sure why the name sounded so familiar. Ah, yes, of course, because it reminded her of the Grand Sofina Hotel where her family used to stay in whenever they were in Marstrand. "Like the hotel."
Godfrey's lips curved slyly. "Yes. Like the hotel."
There was something in his tone - something mischievous and at the same time, condescending that made her realize something.
"Your mother is Sofina Northman? The Sofina Northman? Which makes you a Northman? So you own this lake house?" In retrospect, she should have kept her high-pitched bewilderment to a minimum. It made her sound ignoble.
"Yes. Yes. Yes. And no. This house belongs to my parents. Ask me again in fifty years."
The Northmans were not your run-of-the-mill upper class, they were the upper class. Known all over Stockholm for their massive contribution in architecture, the Northmans were among the pioneers who put the country on the map for their avant-garde building designs. They were originally from Mastrand, where Leif Northman - Godfrey's father- built his very first luxury hotel: the Grand Sofina - the ten-storey hotellette that had the most spectacular view of the North Sea. A palatial manor so divine he named it after his wife.
"Color me impressed," Lilith admitted. "Although I would have never thought of you as a Northman."
He gave an offhanded shrug. "It's probably because I'm the only man in the family who still has all my hair."
She tittered. Yes, the Northman's receding hairline was as infamous as their skyscrapers.
"Well, I can honestly say that this evening is not as horrid as I expected. And you do live up to your name, Godfrey."
"I'd say the same to you, Lilith, but I'm afraid you might find it offensive."
"What's offensive?" said a female voice behind them. Lilith turned to the patio doors and regarded the newcomer with a glare.
"There you are," Godfrey chimed, striding toward the woman with chestnut hair and deep blue eyes.
"Papa's car broke down. Again. We had to catch a ride with another professor to get here," the woman explained.
Lilith saw Godfrey roll his eyes.
"You must be famished then," Godfrey uttered. For a moment, Lilith wondered if her host had forgotten all about her.
"Godfrey, you're being rude," the woman chided, tilting her head in Lilith's direction.
"Oh, yes. My apologies, I can be quite a prick," he mumbled sheepishly. Taking the intruder by her elbow, she and Godfrey made their way to Lilith. "Lilith, I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Thalia."
And that was the first time Godfrey broke her heart.
E/S
Present day…
"Mrs. Northman?"
With a sigh she straightened her back and said, "Yes?"
A nondescript reporter in a tan suit rose from his seat. "Rumor has it that your granddaughter," he glanced at his blue memo pad, "Susanna Compton was spotted in Santa Monica attending the reception last night. Can you confirm this? Given your estranged relationship, is it possible that she had something to do with what happened to Attorney Cataliades?"
The small crowd began murmuring.
Lilith raised her chin, schooling her features to remain impassive. "I haven't spoken to my granddaughter in years so I have no way to confirm nor deny it. Having said that, I know my granddaughter and I see no reason for her to pull such a malicious stunt against Attorney Cataliades. Unless I'm proven otherwise that rumor will remain as nothing but cheap gossip spurned by those who wanted to sensationalize what is clearly a domestic and isolated case."
That was an utter lie. She was most certain that Susanna had helped Salome pull off that carefully orchestrated show. That spiteful harlot had every reason to despise Desmond. He had, after all, played a role that triggered her miscarriage. Lilith wouldn't be surprised if Eric was involved too.
Cataliades, the spineless fool, had been wracked by guilt when he came back to Los Angeles to inform Lilith of Susanna's ill-fated accident. Lilith, on the other hand, had nothing but apathy. It was Susanna's punishment for her insolence.
As for Lilith, she had saved one bastard a long time ago and that was more than enough to atone for her sins.
E/S
Five decades ago…
What began as a challenge to break the tedium quickly mutated into obsession.
Lilith managed to befriend both Godfrey and Thalia. Godfrey was everything she thought he'd be and more. He reminded her so much of her father: intelligent, calculated and charismatic. While Godfrey was perfection, Thalia, was mediocrity at its best. Thalia, an Art major in Uppsala, was smart - Lilith would give her that. She came from an academic family with both parents working as professors in the university. Lilith could tell why Godfrey would be smitten with her, Thalia was attractive, doting and trusting - almost to a fault.
But if there was one thing Godfrey and Thalia had in common, it was their passion. And that fire would be the weapon Lilith would use to burn them.
It was the first day of Autumn when things began to unravel for Godfrey and Thalia. Lilith decided to accompany Godfrey in his usual morning jog around the campus when Thalia bounded up to them, waving a white envelope above her head.
"I got in!" Thalia panted, almost out of breath.
Godfrey chuckled as he dashed to the bleachers. He cupped Thalia's face with both hands and kissed her on the forehead as the latter tried to catch her breath. "You look like you've ran more miles than us."
Lilith trailed Godfrey, watching the couple with subtle envy.
"I got in," Thalia repeated. "The art scholarship in Rome I was telling you about. I was accepted. They want me to be there before the new semester starts next month."
Godfrey's smile vanished at once. "Rome?" His hands dropped to his sides limply.
Thalia stiffened, probably realizing what a dimwit she had been.
"It'll only be for two years."
"But we're graduating in a few months. Our wedding is in a few months," he gritted out, obviously reining in his temper.
"Maybe we can postpone it for a couple of years?"
Lilith suppressed the urge to smile. Thalia was digging her own grave.
"Postpone?" Godfrey snarled, flabbergasted.
"Only for two years," Thalia beseeched. "Rome is my dream, Godfrey."
"Then I'd bring you to Rome. I'd take you to Italy right now if that's what you want!" Lilith could tell Godfrey was losing his temper by the way the muscles wound his jaw leapt against his skin.
"You're not listening to me! I want to go to Rome as a scholar not as a scrounger. I'm not like you Godfrey; people like me cannot use our names like currency!"
Thalia clapped her hands over her mouth, seemingly stunned at came out of it. Lilith's heart soared as Thalia's sank as they both noted the blend of disappointment and hurt coloring Godfrey's features.
Thalia reached out to Godfrey. "You know how much this means to me."
"Yes," he whispered sounding every bit as deflated as he looked. "And now I know just how much I mean to you."
More words were said in anger and Godfrey and Thalia parted ways that day, both broken. Ironically, their broken pieces made Lilith whole.
Two weeks later, Thalia left for Rome. Seven months after that, Lilith found her way into Godfrey's bed.
Then a year after that Lilith discarded the name she loved so dearly and traded it for Northman.
That was the beginning of what she thought was her love story. Sadly for all them, that wasn't the case.
E/S
Present day…
Lilith shot Nan Flanagan a look and a slow nod. Nan didn't have to be told twice, the message was loud and clear: Finish it.
Nan put both hands on top of the podium and directed her attention to the guests. "I'm sorry but we only have time for one more question before we wrap this up."
A hand shot up at the back, Nan bobbed her head in recognition. "Yes, Mr. Jackson, what's your question?"
The man Flanagan nodded at rose from his seat and ran his hand through his unruly black hair.
"Mrs. Northman," he called out in his gravelly voice.
Lilith pushed herself back in her seat and regarded the reporter with a sullen expression.
"Before Attorney Cataliades became your company's legal advisor, he was already working as your family lawyer, correct?"
She could sense it in his tone. It was faint but it was definitely there: malice. The question was merely a set-up for something clever and malevolent.
"Yes," she sighed, her expression deliberately flat and clinical. "He's been working for us for more than thirty years. My husband hired him straight out of law school. So you can imagine how difficult it is for me to let him go."
The reporter bobbed his head as he scribbled something on his small spring notebook. Some of the scribes were already closing their notepads and gathering their belongings. The press conference was over and most of them were set to go, much to Lilith's satisfaction.
"So, if he's no longer in your payroll," the reporter drawled as he pointed his ballpoint pen in Lilith's direction, "who will be representing you in court in the next few days?"
An awkward silence blanketed the room as heads turned to the reporter's direction then ping-ponged back to Lilith.
Lilith's hands quivered on top of the table, catching herself, she placed both hands on her lap - away from scrutinizing eyes.
"You must be confused," she said, jutting her chin out. "I am not going to trial. And I highly doubt Desmond or Salome will drag this out in court."
"I think what Mr. Jackson is so subtly hinting at is your impending trial for the murder of Thalia Bergstrom. The woman you killed in cold blood ten years ago." The voice came from the other end of the room, where the photographers were posted.
Like trained monkeys, the guests whipped their heads to find the source of the sound. Lilith didn't have to. She knew who it was even before the man took off his black baseball cap and gave her a two-finger salute.
Eric.
A/N: I don't own Eric.
Did I say it's a twofer? Yep. The next chapter is in the hands of the great amandagm, as soon as she gives me the green light I'll post it.
This chapter is not only an apology but a thank-you. For your continued support. You guys have reached a new level of awesomeness. I found out two weeks ago that this story, along with DMH, has been nominated in the Fanatic Fanfic Awards. THANK YOU! The voting period is over – I bet most you knew that. Although I have no illusions of winning – considering the caliber of writers I'm pitted against – just to be nominated is more than I could ever ask for. THANK YOU!
Much, much love!