A/N: It took forever as usual, but here it is! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and read the last chapter.

It took all her years of practiced deceit for Pricilla to remain composed. Everything she'd done, every calculated move she made was in an effort to give her sons the best life she could. And the one thing threatening to ruin it all was Brick himself.

"Brick, you don't fully understand the consequences of your actions," Pricilla said slowly.

Brick pursed his lips. Of course he didn't understand the consequences. His mother wasn't telling him anything. "How can I when you insist on keeping secrets from me?"

"What secr..?"

"Please don't lie to me," Brick interrupted. "I followed you to the J Hotel on the other side of town. I wasn't surprised to find you meet up with Mr. M. What did shock me was that you were planning on kidnapping Bubbles. I simply did it before you were able to."

"If you knew why I wanted to take her, you may not have been so hasty," Pricilla said, disappointed in her son.

"That's just it. You've never kept a secret from me before and all of sudden there's a huge issue that I don't know about. Why did you want to kidnap her in the first place?"

"She knows something," Pricilla said cryptically. "Something that could destroy our entire family if the wrong people found out."

"So this girl, little more than a stranger to me, knows something about my family that could destroy it and I don't know what it is?" Brick said, frustration edged on his face. "Why would you discuss something like this with our butler and not your children?"

Pricilla heaved a heavy sigh. It was time Brick learned the truth. "I suppose I should start at the beginning."

…

'Neither of us wanted to get married. I was twenty-five, still young and pretty. He was twenty-eight; he had a girlfriend, a life. We hadn't even met each other before our families announced the engagement. No one was more surprised than I that he actually showed up for the wedding. Ten years later and it still surprised me when he'd come back home.

I had just come home from an award ceremony honoring you for something I can't quite remember. I allowed you to stay up an hour later and play with your train set. Really, I just wanted your company as I waited for your father.

He was late, he usually was. He had something important to tell me so I decided to wait longer. You were in bed for almost two hours before he came home.

It had started to rain so he was distracted with his umbrella and hadn't noticed me sitting in the foyer. I watched as the water beaded off his coat. His jet black hair was messy, it hadn't been that way this morning. His hands trembled slightly so he kept his movements slow. Tired of waiting, I spoke.

"Morris-Johnathan Jojo, should I even ask?" I knew where he was. He knew I knew, but we long since decided not to talk about it.

"You should be in bed," he said, taking off his coat and walking toward the stairs.

I followed him to our room. "How did the appointment go?" I asked, watching him change.

"Are the kids asleep?"

"Yes of course they're sleeping. Don't change the subject. What did the doctor say about the heart?" I could hear my own heart beating in my chest. I wish Mojo wasn't so nonchalant about his own condition. Sometimes I felt like I was the one on death's door.

"The heart it's too small, it won't work."

I felt like he punched me in the chest. "What do you mean it's too small? That's the eighth heart they've rejected. What's the use of being on top of the list if none of the hearts are any good?"

"Maybe it's a sign…" Mojo started to say, but I was too emotional to listen.

"Don't you dare! There are other options, an artificial heart, or we could help along a cancer patient or something." I guess I had grown hysterical. I hadn't even realized I was pacing until Mojo stopped me by holding my shoulders.

"I have less than two weeks to live. I've been preparing for this for a while now."

I couldn't keep the tears from falling. How could he be so calm about this? "What about me? What about your kids and your family? You can't just not do anything!"

"This is my decision," he replied in that infuriatingly calm voice.

"This should be our decision!"

"Go to sleep." Mojo walked to the bedside table and turned off the lights. "We'll talk about this in the morning; you'll wake the kids if we continue."

I sighed, defeated. I wanted to keep talking, but once Mojo decided a discussion was over, it was over. Funny how it seemed he could talk forever to everyone but me.

The next morning he wasn't there. In fact, he didn't come home for the next two days.

"Mommy, where did daddy go?" Boomer asked at the breakfast table. His blonde hair had gotten long and the curly ends bothered me as they brushed against his eyes lashes.

"What did I tell you about talking with your mouth full?"

As Boomer attempted to swallow his food in one go, the electronic voice of the alarm notified us that the door was being opened.

"Daddy!" Boomer bounded from the table before I could reprimand him for not asking to be excused.

I sighed as a very smiley Mojo came into the breakfast nook with Boomer on his back. "I don't suppose you have an explanation for where you've been?"

"We're going camping!" He announced, mostly to the kids. The ensuing cheer was loud enough to fill the entire house. As you know, we all went camping when you were around five. I hadn't gone since; I detest any activity that makes you sleep on the floor.

"When!" an excited Butch asked, bouncing in his seat.

"Right now," Mojo practically whispered. "Go pack up."

All three kids rushed to their rooms, closely followed by their respective nannies. Mojo stayed next to me.

"What is this about?" I asked, angry about the sudden reappearance of my husband. "You disappear for days without a word to anyone and come back talking about a camping trip? What are you trying to do?"

"I am trying to spend time with my family before I go away."

"I told you there are options. You don't have to do this." I was desperate for a way to make him change his mind. He didn't have to give up.

"I've already decided. We will spend a week at the camp sight. The morning after we come back I will fly to my vacation home in the islands and spend what remains of the rest of my days there."

"Then I will go with you." I said, determined not to lose him.

"No, you must stay here with the boys. They will need their mother when they hear about my death."

Tears filled my eyes. I hated talking about his death as if it was right around the corner. He hugged me then, a sweet hug, not common for a man like Mojo. It only lasted a second, but it was enough.

The camping trip was the best we'd ever had. Mojo treated me more like a wife than he ever had in the ten years we'd been married. When he wasn't with the kids, he held my hand, snuggled close during the cold nights, and he even smiled at me. It was what I had always wanted from him.

When we came back from the trip it was like waking from a dream. Everything went back to normal.

"I don't want you there," Mojo said while packing a small bag to take on the plane. The rest of his things would already be aboard.

"I know I may not be your favorite person, but I'm still your wife. I should see you off this last time." I tried to sound firm, but my voice was small and weak. It was typical Mojo. He was distant, never letting me get too close. I had hoped that he would at least let me say a proper goodbye.

Mojo sighed, but continued to pack. "I can't have you there," he whispered. "I know I've had years to prepare myself, but the truth is I'm scared and sad. I can't let the whole world see that. I have to go alone."

For the first time I noticed that Mojo's hands were shaking. He was terrified. For a man whose life was a fishbowl for the media simply because he was born so rich, he couldn't let them see him like this.

"I understand," I said, walking across the room. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed my husband like a wife should.

He was a very good actor, you boys suspected nothing when he said his last goodbye. It was another business trip and you expected to see him in a week or two when he'd return with presents. I felt like I watched him go for hours, even after the car disappeared behind our gate.

I walked into his office minutes after he had left. He didn't like when I went in there, but he wouldn't be coming back to stop me. It seemed to me the house should have changed itself for the loss of a member. The shiny black desk that I wished he would get in mahogany was still the same. Legal papers lay scattered and unread. Didn't they know he wasn't coming back? Shouldn't they have the decency to be packed away, mourning the loss of their owner?

I grabbed the papers, suddenly angry at them for lying on the desk, and reached for the top drawer as if to open it. The drawer was always locked, so it was more out of misplaced anger than actual intent to tidy up that I did this. To my surprise the drawer opened. Mojo hadn't turned the lock all the way. Inside, on top of a pile of other legal documents was a manila folder marked 'Will and Testament.'

I stopped moving. He probably wasn't even at the airport yet and here was a copy of what he wished for when he died. I wasn't supposed to read it, but curiosity got the best of me and I quickly scanned the document, looking for any reference of my name.

I was shocked at its contents. Mojo didn't trust me, that much I knew and after the reading of this will, the whole rest of the world would know as well. I couldn't let this will be read, he had to make a new one.

I moved quickly. Mr. M was downstairs with the car running before I made it to the front doors. We made good time speeding through the city and taking any shortcuts Henry knew to make it to the airport before Mojo got on that plane.

We arrived in record time. Henry remained in the car while I rushed into the building. By some twist of luck I spotted Mojo sitting in the waiting area, his back to me. It didn't occur to me that he shouldn't be waiting on anything. He had a private plane and should have been able to leave as soon as he arrived. I was blinded by my desperation to get him to change the will.

I walked over to him, reminding myself not to go too fast. I didn't want to draw unnecessary attention. Before I could reach him he stood up, leaving his bag on the floor he walked to greet someone with a hug. When they parted I saw her face.

It was a girl I had come to hate over the last ten years, his mistress. She was a gorgeous young blonde he intended to marry before our parents announced our engagement. His plans were ruined when his parents threatened to take everything from him. He always resented me for this and I always resented her.

This was the real reason he hadn't wanted me to come. He didn't want me to see him saying goodbye to her. They hadn't seen me yet, as I angrily stalked over there I noticed her large bag. She was dressed comfortable and smiled as he took her hand. She wasn't there to say goodbye, she was going with him.

If I was a balloon I would have popped right there. My anger boiled inside. I followed them, waiting until they arrived at his private waiting room. He always had to get mentally prepared before a flight. For as much as he loved his tech gadgets, for some reason he was afraid to fly. He had a waiting room made so that he could ready himself for the trip.

They were so happy to be together they didn't even notice me right behind them. I waited for them to go inside, right before Mojo could lock the door, I turned the knob. I felt the pull of the lock several times before he became frustrated and opened the door to find me standing there.

I reveled in their shocked faces. The blondie had the decency to blush as I stepped into the room, locking the door behind me. It didn't take long for Mojo to get over his shock. His face hardened.

"I told you not to come. You didn't have to see this."

I slapped him so hard he stumbled back from the force. The girl ran to his side as if he'd been hit by a car.

"Have some compassion, he doesn't have long to live," the girl said, cradling his reddening face in her arms. It made me sick to look at the two of them clinging to each other as if there was no one else in the world.

"Compassion?" I asked in a mocking tone. "Like he had for me when he made this?" I threw the folder containing his will at their feet.

"Typical. I'm not gone an hour before you're snooping in my office looking for my will."

"For your information I found it by accident. It doesn't matter now because you're going to change it."

"I won't change a word in that document. Those are my wishes like it or not."

I was prepared for that. I pulled out a small hand gun I had in my purse. Before the checkpoint it doesn't matter what you bring into an airport.

It turned out to be a good thing blondie was there. I pointed the gun at her. "Stand up and slowly walk to the other side of the room," I said, pointing the gun at her legs. The silencer made the gun bulky and awkward. I didn't want to kill her by mistake. She looked at Mojo who nodded at her.

"It's ok," he said soothingly. "She won't hurt you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." I told her to kneel as I duct taped her hands and feet together. When I was done I kept the gun pointed at her and instructed Mojo to open the folder. It was all so easy. After he changed the document he could live the rest of his horrible existence with that girl if he wanted. Everything would have been perfect if the girl hadn't screamed.

As Mojo was making the necessary corrections, Blondie who was closest to the door heard the sound of feet outside. She took that opportunity to scream for help. Everything after that seemed to go in slow motion.

Surprised, I shot at her. She fell to the ground. Mojo shot to his feet and took a step toward me. He tried to take another step but fell to the floor clutching his chest. He struggled to breathe for a bit until he seemed to just give up. Two people lay motionless of the floor and I stood between them, gun in hand.

The lock was picked and in walked Henry. I dropped the gun and fell into his arms, terrified by what had just happened.

"What's going on?" he asked, stroking my hair to calm me down.

"I…I…I shot…he…her…her…and…and…and…." I was barely comprehensible.

"There's no blood," Henry said, looking at Blondie's body. For the first time since she fell, I actually looked at her. He was right. I was so scared, I forgot to aim. The bullet never touched her. It looked like she fainted from fear.

Mojo was another story. Henry checked his vitals, I couldn't go near him. "There's no point in calling an ambulance," he said after he was finished. "His heart couldn't take this kind of shock."

"I killed him," I sobbed. I fell into the couch, clutching my hair.

"You didn't do this," Henry said sternly. "You weren't even here."

Henry moved quickly making a few short phone calls as he wrapped the gun in a cloth and placed it back into my purse. He moved Mojo so that it looked like he was resting on the couch next to me. I was in too much shock to move. I sat next to my husband's dead body as some men came in to take Blondie home.

"She fainted when she heard that he wouldn't be coming back," Henry said to the men. "Please discreetly take her home." He handed each of them some cash and they quickly took her.

Henry had worked for the Jojo Company for most his life. He was used to cleaning up their messes, but he handled the situation with such practiced ease that it frightened me.

"Did he sign the will?" he asked me when the men left.

The will, I had forgotten all about it. He hadn't had the chance to sign it. "No," I replied quietly. All of this was for nothing; he hadn't even signed the new version of the will. Whatever was in his lawyer's office is what would be held as the official last will and testament.

"We'll shred and burn this." He picked up the revised copy of the will. "The plane will fly as scheduled. It will malfunction somewhere over the Atlantic. They won't recover his body. In three days we will cremate him and this will be over."

"No," I said, suddenly animating after all this time. I glanced at his body. "He didn't want to be cremated. He wanted to be buried with his family under the shade of the oak tree."

Henry looked into my eyes and spoke very slowly. "You understand that can't happen, don't you?"

"I'm going to bury him, even if I have to do it myself."

Henry kept me to my word. He ordered a safe (it was less conspicuous than a coffin) and told me to bury him. I thought I picked the perfect place. It was remote, but not too far. No one would be looking for him in the first place. I could bury him in peace.

It took hours to dig a hole large enough. It wasn't very deep, but the safe had thick walls so the standard six feet wasn't necessary. It took all the strength I had to roll the safe into the ditch.

I was almost finished covering the hole, talking to myself all the while, when I heard the loud snap of a branch. I looked up to see Bubbles staring at me in horror. I had no idea how much she had heard or saw. I stepped closer to ask her how long she had been there, but she suddenly turned and ran.

I dropped my shovel and ran after her, but burying the safe had taken all my strength and the little girl easily out ran me. I soon gave up and finished the job.

I couldn't sleep that night. I was sure my secret was out before I even had a chance to properly mourn my husband's death. The next day I hired investigators to keep an eye on Bubbles. They found out that she had been too scared to talk. For days I waited and worried that at any time police men would show up to my door to investigate Mojo's murder.

By some miracle it seemed that Bubbles had suppressed the memory and was living as if nothing had happened. They told me that a suppressed memory could be revived by a mental trigger, too much exposer to a place, person or thing that is linked to the event may cause the memory to resurface.'

…

Pricilla finished the story and stood up from her chair. "Do you see why kidnapping her was the worst thing you could have done? You run the risk of reminding her of what happened simply by placing her in a similarly frightening situation."

Brick sat stiff in the chair, unable to look at his mother. For years he had been in denial. If they never found the body perhaps his father made it out alive. He could be stranded on an island somewhere. It was silly for him to believe that, but it was better than the alternative. That he really was dead and he would never see him again. Now that his mother confirmed his death and that he was buried practically beneath his feet, it felt more real than it ever did before.

"Why would you keep something like this from your sons?" Brick asked through clenched teeth.

Pricilla could hear the anger in Brick's voice. She was prepared for this. "You boys were too young. I couldn't ask you to keep a secret like this from the world."

"Where is the grave?" Brick asked, finally facing Pricilla. "I want to see it for myself."

"For your own safety, I can't tell you."

Brick rose to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the floor. "Nothing happens!" He shouted. "Not, Bubbles, school, I'll quit the whole damn company if you don't tell me where he's buried."

Mrs. Jojo studied her son. Brick wasn't immune to tantrums. She calmly walked over to her chair, sat down and waited.

Brick didn't budge.

"I'm not playing this game Brick. Pick up the chair, sit down, and we can resume this conversation like adults."

"I'm not doing anything until you tell me where he is," Brick stubbornly refused to move.

Pricilla waited and waited, until almost ten minutes later Brick reluctantly returned to his seat.

"Good," Mrs. Jojo said, smiling. "Now I need you to tell me where you are keeping Bubbles."

"I won't say a word until you tell me where he is."

"If I told you where he is, what is the first thing you'd do?"

"I'd visit his grave, mourn his death, and seek some kind of comfort from knowing where he rests."

"You wouldn't be happy with just that. An unmarked grave over eight years old? I could send you to any spot in the middle of nowhere and you wouldn't know the difference. No, you'd have to make sure." Pricilla crossed her arms in her seat. "You would dig up the safe he's buried in. But you wouldn't stop there. What if I lied about him being in that safe? Anything could be in there. You would find a way to open the safe. Then send the remains to a lab to get tested…Need I go on?"

Brick said nothing. She was right about all of it. It would never be enough proof. He probably wouldn't even believe the lab results once they came back. He had been lied to for too long about this.

Noticing her son's silence, Mrs. Jojo took the opportunity to speak. "Now I'm not completely unsympathetic. I will tell you where Mojo is buried once you have regained my trust."

Brick narrowed his eyes at the woman sitting across the desk. "What do you want me to do?"

Pricilla smiled. "Tell me where you are keeping Bubbles."

"If I refuse?"

"It's not a secret you are my favorite son, but you put the entire family at jeopardy by withholding this information. I won't hesitate to turn you into the police."

"You have no proof. I turned off every piece of surveillance device in this room."

"Not every piece." Pricilla produced a small tape recorder from her purse and waved it in the air. "I recorded every word you said about Bubbles. Naturally it ends before my little story begins."

Brick immediately smashed his mother's glass vase to the floor. She had won and he knew it.

…

Blossom toyed with the ends of her hair, a nervous habit she couldn't get rid of. She and her father waited as the woman at the hospital desk searched for Buttercup's name on the computer. When Buttercup didn't come home she and her father immediately went to the gym. A bunch of girls protesting outside told her that they saw Butch carry her to an ambulance. They used the little money they had to get a cab to the hospital. Now they were waiting while the woman searched on a computer invented in the Stone Age.

"Yes, here she is. She was checked into the emergency room about two hours ago," the woman finally said. "Her condition is stable. She's in room 419A" She gave them a couple of visitor passes and pointed to the elevators.

The Professor and Blossom practically ran to the elevator. They came up to a large private room with a comfy queen sized mattress and a whole entertainment system to keep the patient busy. Blossom had been to the hospital more times then she could count to visit her mother, but she had never seen a room this extravagant.

Buttercup looked so small on that huge bed. She had an IV attached to her arm and she was sound asleep.

"Buttercup?" Blossom said gently, approaching the bed with her father.

The brunette opened her eyes the moment she heard her sister's voice. "Blossom? What are you doing here?"

The Professor and Blossom covered Buttercup in kisses and hugs.

"Sweetie, I'm so glad you're alright, but what happened? Why are you in here?" The professor asked, concern plain on his face.

"I uh…dropped my keychain into a lake. I got hippo-thermia looking for it."

"Hypothermia, Buttercup," Blossom corrected.

"Anyway." Buttercup rolled her eyes at her sister. "Sorry I worried you guys. I'm alright, really." She gave her best puppy-dog face, complete with big watery eyes. Bubbles trained her well.

"Oh no you don't. You're in big trouble when you get home young lady. I don't want you stepping foot in that gym again." The professor placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, making him look even taller than he was.

"That's going to be difficult," Butch said, startling the group. Buttercup assumed he left when she fell asleep. "Considering she still works there," he finished.

Blossom turned to Buttercup. "You found it?"

She was about to answer when a nurse walked in. "Excuse me for interrupting, but Bubbles is well and ready to see her family."

A/N: Poll question! (Kinda) : Do you think Pricilla intentionally killed Mojo? Yes (Why else would she bring the gun) No (She was surprised and sad about what happened)