Her door beeped again. She kept her eyes closed, whoever it was would come in and disturb her peace sooner or later. The door opened.

"Mother…" it was Titus, a whine in his tone. "Balem is-"

"What?" she said sharply. "If he has poisoned your wine or had your favourite splice skinned for a rug I will speak to him. If this is another complaint about how he manages my affairs, or because he refused you another 'loan' that we all know you will never repay, then kindly tell it to someone else."

Titus looked abashed. "Mother, it's not right that you should rely on him so. I am here too, I can help."

This was enough to make Seraphi open her eyes. "Help?" she said, rather sharply, "Titus, sweetheart, you have been given many chances. Kalique lives independently on the proceeds of the properties I gave her, Balem I can trust with anything. Titus, what will become of you when I'm gone? When I'm not here to clean up your messes?"

Titus smiled "Oh mother, you speak as if you're a decrepit old thing. There's plenty of life in you yet". He crossed the room to her bed and sat down, placing an affectionate hand on her arm. She sighed.

"Alright, tell me what Balem has done to you this time." She murmured, closing her eyes again. She was so tired.

Balem hadn't seen his mother in a long time. The needs of the business, the interviews, the traveling, and besides, she did not send for him. He was keeping a close eye on Kalique, who was showing more potential every century and, while showing no immediate desire to compete with or unsettle her mother and brother's success, nonetheless had always been shrewd and calculating and definitely bore watching.

In his rare time alone he took to brooding. He had heard rumours that Seraphi was no longer taking Nectar baths. He had heard that she was only using a topical solution every few years or so, as if she were a commoner, or the aspiring wife of a pleasure-ship magnate. A despicable part of him, part that he could never admit to anyone, was strangely, fiercely glad to hear it. The decline of Seraphi would be Balem's gain, the will looming large in his thoughts at these times.

He had to endure an FTL from Titus every so often, asking for money, or for help convincing mother of something. Titus did not offer any details about the rumours, and Balem would not ask him. He did not want Titus to know that he hadn't heard from Seraphi in decades.

There was no doubt that he was carrying on her legacy. The news stations spoke in awed tones of the Abrasax Heir, just as they speculated about the near disappearance of Seraphi Abrasax, for more than 70.000 years a glittering socialite, now a virtual recluse. Her youngest son, Balem thought with a snort, helped the gossip columns deal with their loss, as Titus involved himself in scandal after scandal; love affairs, gambling debts and raucous parties.

His communicator beeped and his heart leapt, as it always did, hoping it was her.

It wasn't her. It never was.