Chapter 2: Family Affairs
The whole building was closed off as the police gathered everyone who wasn't in the vestibule or main hall to take questions. Anyone who'd been seen slipping out during that time. She had made sure to let them know that he was with her on the second-floor balcony attached to the lounge before they segregated Rick, who'd been Holly's date. Michonne had heard him whisper, 'They killed her' as the corpse rolled out. She was confused. How could he have known she was murdered? What was it that he was hiding? Who did he think was responsible for the young woman's death? Why would they kill her? The more questions that plagued her, the more suspicious she grew of Rick. The longer she thought about what happened, the harder it became holding onto the fleeting illusion of security. Standing outside the dark 1:00 a.m. sky, the wind brushed against her exposed skin. A faint sound rang out in her clouded mind; each toll of the bell caused her heart to stammer, all while her body remained impossibly, unnaturally, and agonisingly rooted. It was almost as if she'd fallen into a catatonic state. Her silver heels and the hem of her red dress were the only objects in her sight. It was when a warm suit jacket dropped on her chilled, exposed shoulders that she'd freed herself from the cage she called her mind.
"Rick… Are they done?"
"For now, I guess…" Rick placed his hands in his pocket, staring at where Holly fell. "From what I can tell, they don't got much to go on. This is tryna find a needle in a haystack."
"You think someone killed her? You said it yourself; I heard you." Michonne stepped closer, her brown pools stirring.
"I ain't denying it. I know someone did." He stepped closer as well, leaving no gap between the two. Unlike her jittery persona, Rick mimicked a predator on the prowl. "Gonna have to go to the station tomorrow. This is probably gonna be ruled a suicide. I'm sure that'd make you happy to know."
"What do you take me for?"
"A liar for one."
"You got some nerve! Let me make this absolutely clear—"
"Michonne!"
"Shane…"
"I heard what happened. You okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm not the one who's dead." He places his hand on her back. In an attempt to comfort her. "Rick, I'm sorry, man. Would've come sooner if they ain't have us hauled up in there."
"No worries. I got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I'll leave you two to it." He pranced away, not giving them a heads-up as he waved them bye.
"Just like that?"
"Your brother's date just died; he has to go to the station in the morning. Don't be insensitive."
"I ain't tryna. He just left in a hurry; ain't even take his jacket… You wanna talk?"
"Not right now. I'm ready to go."
Shane got the driver ready whilst she waited. They bid goodnight to her in-laws and left, discreetly, unaccompanied by the media, clamouring for a spectacle on their backs. People rushed past each other on the sidewalks, cars honked and screeched on the streets, and sirens wailed in the distance.
The car ride was silent for the first half, with the couple's breath being the one indication of people in the back seat. Shane studied the way Michonne tilted her head towards the window. The lack of sound was overwhelming, so he went against his instinct and asked,
"Chonne, mind telling me what happened? Why you weren't in the hall?"
The way her eye twitched was enough to tell him to stop pressing for an answer. He was thankful to know she was here, her heart still beating, body bumping with blood. He wouldn't press on.
"You ain't gotta answer… It must be hard." He inched closed and interweaved their fingers.
"I'm sorry. I'm being unfair."
"Nah. Like you said, I'm being insensitive." As he diverted his gaze, Michonne spun her body to find a middle ground.
"Shane, I have something to tell you… Your father isn't giving you control like you thought."
"What? Where'd you get this from?" His brows progressively lifted in anticipation of clarification.
"I— Shane… I overheard your parents talking about it. Well, fighting if I'm being real here… Eleanor didn't know; she let him have it in the second-floor lounge. He never intended to give you control, He hasn't decided on a successor yet… I'm sorry."
"No, no… No. Nah. You fucking with me? Is this about the same shit earlier?" His eyes squinted at the confused tangle of facts in front of him, irritation and disbelief visible in his expression. He didn't want it to be true. He needed it not to be.
"I am not that petty… It's true. You can ask Eleanor. She'll confirm it… I'm sorry."
Shane sat there, licking his lips uncomfortably, indicating his inability to find the perfect words to communicate his perplexity. Not uttering a single word, the rest of the ride. His face turned blank, a sharp contrast to the resentment that had been present only moments before. After they made their way through the outer security gate, the Guard at the front of their horseshoe driveway ushered them in. Shane didn't wait for her; hopping out of the car, his footsteps echoed from the granite walkway and steps, making heavy strides to their home. She grabbed her purse in hot pursuit.
"Shane!"
"I need to think!" He unlocked the front door and stormed down the hall to the living room, where he dawdled around, as if he couldn't remember where he was supposed to go.
"You still have your 3%."
"And what the fuck am I gonna do with 3%?"
"You still have a say. You bide time till you're in a position to fight back. Shane… He wants you to fight back. We'll talk to K; you do your part. We need Eleanor too; she's not going to accept this… Shane, do you really want this?"
"What?"
"Briton. You don't have to…" drawing nearer and cupping his face to continue, "Is it worth it?"
"Yes, it's worth it. I'm doing this for us, for them! It's ours!"
"Alright, tomorrow, I'll go to my mother. You remember my aunt, right?"
"The one married to Sean Monroe?"
"Yeah, I'll get my mother to help facilitate a meeting. If we can win her, she can help us win over Deanna Monroe."
"That's…good."
"When Morgan Jones comes back from the Bahamas, you'll have a meeting. He thinks you're taking over, we need to see if he'll still take your side."
"We'll follow your idea." His gaze held a warm intensity that whispered of deep affection. With her plan coming together at the last minute, she fell onto the couch with a pleased sigh.
…
Michhonne gazed at Andre and Maliyah sleeping soundly in her bed. Sometimes when their dad wasn't home, or ran late, they would sneak into her bedroom while she was in the shower, only to fall asleep before she had the chance to catch and send them back. If she was being honest, she didn't mind these little antics at all. She would lengthen her bath sometimes just so they'd fall asleep waiting for her. Maliyah was a messy sleeper, often contorting her double-jointed body all over the place, making it hard to share a bed. Her big toe, currently in her brother's nose. Michonne crackled to herself, fixing her distorted body. Admiring her three-year-old, her mind unexpectedly ran to Rick's words on the balcony the night before.
"And what if I said Lori was part of it?"
"So you admit there are other reasons."
"I admit that you're gonna be crying soon. John made it so."
He obviously intends to fuck everything up! How did he know about Lori? Did she say anything? What else does he know?
"I expect a visit from you soon. I'll text my number."
"And why would I do that?"
"Shane. Specifically, the children…"
"Is this a threat?"
"No, darling… But you need an offer from me. I don't wanna be an enemy to you of all people."
So Michonne… What's the play… How do you deal with this… What does he even want from me? Fucking bastard!
Michonne ran to her dresser, picking up the rose-coloured diary Lori had entrusted her with. Shane never went through her stuff, except the night he rummaged through the house in a fiery rage four years ago, so he didn't know about this. If Rick started whispering in her husband's ear, she'd have to guard against it, for everyone's sake. It was a can of worms that no one needed. He was already in the running for COO from what she gathered from Shane's call before he went to the office. He was already in the running for COO from what she gathered from Shane's call before he went to the office.
The kids' room—that's where I'll hide it for now.
And so it was. Michonne placed it in the kids' shared walk-in closet, far from the children's reach. She was the only adult who entered here, not even the housekeeper, Mary, as Michonne preferred to clean the bedrooms herself. Leaving her kids to sleep upstairs for a while, she went downstairs for a glass of wine. She needed it. To her surprise, passing the living room to go to the kitchen and the wine cellar, she met her husband sprawled out on their U-shaped, navy blue corner sofa, tie loose on his neck, suit jacket on the side, brown eyes stuck on her in the dimly lit room. Michonne held her chest in momentary fright.
"I didn't know you came in."
"I thought you were sleeping… Ain't wanna disturb you… The kids?"
"Asleep… In my bed." Even standing a couple feet away, even in the dim room, she could see the tiredness and frustration in his eyes as they were motionless and far away. Not from her, but outside. Regardless of it, he still snickered at the news.
"Can't catch a break… Can I get a drink?"
"Why? There is no reason to."
"Ain't you heading for a drink yourself?" His lips curled into a tired sneer.
"And what makes you say that?"
"Why else are you headed towards the kitchen? Why not?" Michonne sighed.
"I was but you know why. When you're stressed, which you obviously are, you tend to not know when to stop." She folded her arms.
"Just one glass… Just one." They stared at each other for an entire minute before she gave in.
"All right. Just one then…"
She strolled over to her original destination, grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir from the cellar, went to the kitchen to Shane's rum cabinet and took an almost finished bottle of bourbon. Holding the bottles with one hand, she grabbed a wine and a rum glass with the other before returning to the living room. Shane cast his gaze on his wife's every move. From her placing the two glasses on the large, rustic, handmade, blackwood coffee table Rick and he had made after their son was born. She sat, opened both bottles, poured each into their respective places, rested them back on the table, and got up, passing through the gold bead curtain, where she began setting ablaze the sandalwood incense on the corner table. Shane looked around the room, from the marble flooring and the family portrait to the abstract black, navy and gold mural, completely covering the wall behind him, that Michonne painted five years prior. They had made this home together for their family. When he spun back around, she was standing four feet away. He took in his wife. He thought her a peculiar person. Always prim and proper, only allowing a flaw within her bedroom.
"Want me to play something?"
"Nah… come sit."
"Want to talk about it?"
Shane raised his head gently, trying to calm his eyes. He didn't kiss her, but instead gripped her chin, forcing her to look back at him. He drew her in closer, taking her on his lap and placing his left hand on her waist, his right hand on her jaw. They remained in that posture for a minute, just breathing each other in. On his breath, she could smell whisky. He hadn't drunk from the glass she poured yet, so it became obvious that he was drinking prior to returning home.
"This is good… It's good"
"How much alcohol did you have before this?"
"I passed by a club with a few buddies of mine."
"Why?"
"Destress, have fun... Don't worry, I ain't cheated on you. We both done had enough of the behind-the-back stuff, right?"
"Shane."
"No need to pretend like it ain't happened... It's in the past… We're grown enough to talk about it. At the time, I wanted to snap that pretty neck of yours, but, in hindsight, that's quite the lick back. To think you almost had another man's baby."
"I don't want to talk about this—"
"I should've been at the hospital…" He tugged her back after she tried leaving. "When you got home and I saw her, I knew our little girl was a Walsh, that she had my blood."
Shane kissed Michonne after she gulped. He didn't stop, repeatedly capturing her lips so that when she breathed, he was the one she was taking in. She pushed his chest two times to distract herself from the sensations he was instilling in her, and he followed, grabbing her around the waist once more. Michonne put her arms around his neck, and they both felt as if they were about to fall. Michonne grabbed at the back of his shirt, wanting it off, as he raised her body to slide her panties down in a frenzy and she unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. He was distracted by nibbling her, especially as he kissed down her jaw and began on her neck.
Sex was a drug for both of them. It was how they solved their problems, regardless of what the problem was. They didn't waste time with foreplay and she was already wet so she lifted her hips and lowered onto him. He grunted and air caught her throat. He held her tight as he slid his body down and she rested her head on his shoulder as the husband and wife went to work. They pounded till her shrieks entered a crescendo while both their climax drowned them. Shane felt his dick quiver and the warm dripping of his come painting his cock and her insides white. Descending from their highs, they clung to each other for a while, their chests heaving heavily and their noses buried in the creeks of the other's neck.
"You still on your birth control?"
"Why?"
"Ain't seen you take it recently."
"My mind's been hectic. I'll take a pill in the morning."
"Don't bother. I think it's time we had another kid… Lia's three; I'm sure she won't mind another sibling."
"Is that something you want?" She lifted her head to see his face while he was still inside her.
"Of course… I'd have a hundred babies with you if possible. I never wanted you on birth control anyways… We weren't in the best place at the time, so I never said nothing."
"You make it sound so simple." She turned away from him
"Why can't it be? We've hurt each other enough. A baby can mean so much. It can mean we forgave each other."
"I thought we did."
"Have we really?" His lips pulled into a half-formed, smile. "Every time we get into a scrabble or fight, you bring up the d-word. I know you don't mean it; hell, you been saying it since forever, but it ain't never made it easier, even if I'd never give you a divorce. You, the kids, y'all are the most constant thing that I care about in my life…"
"I'm not going to just up and leave. I promise you that, but what about her?"
"I told you—"
"You told me a lot of things. You told me that it was complicated, that the two of you had kids together, that she was in the picture before me, that it wasn't her fault... that you loved her."
"Michonne—"
Michonne carefully lifted herself from her husband, still very tender from their tumble, and rose from the sofa. She put on her panties, turning away from him. Michonne moved to the kitchen, grabbing the empty rum glass without looking back at him.
A cruel man is what you are.
7 years 7 months prior
Michonne's delight shines through the windows of her eyes more brightly in the dawn. There is a deeper sweetness in the morning that resonates within and finds a way to express itself. Michonne had that. Her first pregnancy was, on some days, an epic voyage of vomiting and sickness that lasted all day; other days, none at all, not even a smidgeon. She'd gotten up late that day yet miraculously managed to kiss her spouse goodbye, nausea and all. She wrangled her will, snatched a book from her unread collection, and marched downstairs, reluctant to spend the day in bed. Her nutritionist, whom Eleanor had 'given' to the couple after her pregnancy was revealed, prepared her a well-portioned and balanced meal that she could eat and that she much loved. In the group chat, she texted Sasha and Maggie, beckoning them to come visit and keep her company. She was reading 'The Paris Wife' by Paula McLain while waiting for her friends when the house phone rang. Michonne got up, fully expecting it to be her mother-in-law, but was met with the unfamiliar voice of a woman, a young woman.
"Hello. You must be Michonne." The woman giggled on her end.
"This is her. Who is this? Do I know you?"
"Yes! I know you—very very well, but you don't know me, not yet at least." There was a sing-song pitch to her voice.
"Look, I don't have time for nonsense—"
"I have news about your husband. You'll want to hear it."
"Who is this?"
"I'm Jessie. Jessie Anderson… Shane and I have been together for over four years, now." Michonne held still, attempting to digest what she had just been told. "We have a son together; he's three. And I'm currently pregnant again—almost seven months. I was wondering if we could meet up. You know… talk?"
"What did you say your name was again?"
"Jessie. Jessie Anderson. I understand it's a lot to take in but—"
"Jessie, don't call this house again, or I'll have you served." She disconnected the phone and hurled it across the living room with unexpected strength. Her demeanor soon grew misleadingly serene, her astonishment confirmed by a vain popping grip on the living room bookcase next to her.
That woman just wanted to stir up trouble! How dare she say something like that? It's not true true; I know it's not…
Present
Shane sprang up, hurriedly adjusting his clothing and striding after her. She had already rinsed the glass. He noticed her standing in the centre with a dish towel, but her eyes hadn't risen from the icy grey tiles. He couldn't help running his fingers through his black hair with shaking hands. It was unclear how long they remained at a stand-still, but his gaze never left her, not once. She quietly walked over and embraced her from behind, resting his chin atop her head.
"Can you give me some time?"
She heard him. She heard the begging and the worry in his voice, though no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't bring herself to answer his question. His grip tightened.
…
Walking through the stone garden, full of Saucer Magnolia trees, the bustling sound of murmurs greeted the four of them. Sasha agreed to accompany her and the kids back to her maiden home, given Michonne had long ceased to have the mental fortitude to deal with her maiden family, especially that of her mother and older sister. It was understood that there'd be a clash for blowing them off at the party, though she'd hoped they'd let it go given the unfortunate catastrophe that took place, it nevertheless became apparent when her mother didn't come out to greet her and the butler had been rather 'formal' even to her children. Two could play that game. Just because she wanted something didn't mean she'd become the begging dog; they'd do well to remember they needed something from her too. They sat at one of the woodland stone tables where guests gathered.
"Andre, sweety."
"Mama?"
"I won't keep you here to bore you. Go play, but you know the rules."
"Sweet!"
He dug deep into his mother's Birkin bag with level speed in search of his case holding his marbles. The little fox didn't even wait for any other words from his mother or his aunt Sasha, simply taking off with a wide, mischievous grin on his face.
"That little brat!" Sasha let out all her playful shock, fixing little Lia in her hand. "AJ didn't even wait! Who in God's green heaven does that little twerp take after?"
"Well, at least he's not craving your attention today."
"Does that mean he's growing up?" She pouted. "Our baby's growing up!"
"More like he's acting his age." Michonne giggled at her best friend's overreaction while she reached over to stroke her daughter's chubby, dimpled cheek.
"Mama? Can I go?"
"Oh, baby girl… No, you can't." Michonne wouldn't let her run freely with all these people present. Maliyah was smart, but small for her age. "Hang out with me and your aunt Sash then later, we'll get that bike I promised you, I'd even get you a doll. It's that okay?"
"You prowmise!"
"I promise, baby! I promise."
"Can we go see Daddy?"
"Uhm, I don't know, babygirl. Daddy's really, really busy with work."
"Oh."
"How about after we leave, we call your dad and ask? If he's too busy, let's go to the playground and have fun." Sasha kissed her cheek and patted her curly, dark hair, and she in turn smothered her petite face in her aunt's neck.
The children missed their father. He'd been coming home late for months and with the recent transition of CEO, they barely saw him anymore. Andre, being the 'big boy', pretended it didn't affect him; Lia, on the other hand, being a daddy's girl, didn't take it well. Michonne and Sasha stared at each other, not knowing how to respond.
"Michonne! Sasha!"
"Jocelyn! Hey!"
"Jocelyn…" Sasha couldn't pretend to have Michonne's enthusiasm for the woman who stood before them nor did she care to.
"I didn't expect to see you both here, especially you, Michonne, since everything happened to that girl. It must've been hard for your family; I mean, it's not the first time something like that has happened. Bad luck, I guess." This caught the attention of the nearby women. Sasha rolled her eyes; Michonne, however, graced her with a smile.
"Ah yes, it's been hard for my family; no one likes to witness death; I'm sure it's harder on the victim's family. It would be insensitive and tone-deaf to the ones truly affected by this tragedy. As for my attendance today, I should take the time to visit my maiden home when I have the chance, shouldn't I?" Michonne sat in anticipation of a response, while Sasha smirked, eyes sharp as a hawk's.
"Your right. Well, I should leave you to it." They watched her walk away when Sasha spat out all her disgust.
"That fucking bitch… This is why I hate coming to these dumb things. How you have the patience, I'll never know." Maliyah perked up, reminding her aunt of her presence.
"You said naughty words!"
"Those aren't words for you to repeat. If I catch you saying it, I'll beat your bum. Don't say that word; that's a bad word."
Michonne was about to add to the discussion when a young man, probably a worker on the estate, whispered a message intended for her ears only. It was from her, a childhood friend who happened to be the daughter of her old nanny, who worked here like her mother did. The more she heard, the more her chilling stare drilled into an unseeable foe, making it difficult for the other ladies to ignore the shift in aura. As she leapt up from her seat, her mouth pinched shut, as if keeping back what she truly was tempted to say, although her tensing jaw, expanding chest, and toned shoulders pushed back made her tiny body appear larger and more formidable, indicating her deep ire.
"Michonne? What is it?" Sasha, knowing her friend, asked in an effort to help.
"You stay with Lia I have a bit of family issues to address. I'll be back." And with that, she marched off, not spearing a second thought.
When Michonne arrived, her eyes met with her son's, who was bleeding from a slash on his face, kneeling on the floor. He was teary as he bit his lip, trying not to cry in front of these irreverent people. Not only did John despise it, but her boy was as proud as she was and would never allow outsiders to see him that way, even though he was just a six-year-old boy. Her blood began to boil but she kept her face and tone neutral and almost lifeless as she addressed the adult, ignoring Macie's son and the maid who stood with them. Her family was very 'traditional'. Michonne knew they were going to beat him. She cast her head straight ahead at the woman she called mother.
"What is this and why is my son bleeding?" She walked to her child.
"Before you come in guns blazing, Mrs. Pompous, he did it to himself! It's my Kyle you should be showing concern about! We had to pull that animal off him! On top of that, he broke the jade vase that Mom just won at the auction last week and called my child illegitimate and me a prostitute!"
"I didn't; they're lying!"
"Did you?" She made sure to watch his every movement, though she already knew the truth. Just in case.
"I called them names because he hit me first! I didn't do the other stuff! They're lying! Mom, I'm telling the truth." She stroked his curly black hair and pulled him closer.
"I know, baby. I know." She whispered, giving him comfort that she was on his side.
"Kyle said you did so you did! Plus, the maid saw it."
"Is that so?"
"Instead of antagonising everyone, you should do your duties as a mother; he should be punished and apologise for his action. He behaves like this because he sees how you act."
So this is what it's about... The party? Trying to embarrass me, trying to punish me by using my child, okay…
Michonne stared coldly at her mother and felt sick to her stomach. Even at her own all-white party, Michelle Marie Hawthorne stood in a dark green knee-length Chanel dress with cream-coloured pearls on her neck and hair in a neat side-part bob cut, right hand placed gracefully over her left right above her belly as overseer, all her close friends watching. She wanted her to stoop to her, but she would not, nor would her baby boy.
"Sweetheart, say your piece." He looked up at her and she nodded in approval.
"We were playing marbles and I won all of 'em!"
"No, you didn't! You cheated!" Kyle finally came out from behind his mother, showing his black eye.
"Yes, I did! He didn't wanna pay up so I took 'em myself! And then, he hit me and we started fighting, and then the vase broke! When I was on top of him, he cut my face! So I beat him up some more and called him names!"
"He's a liar! He cut himself!"
"Just because you got caught doesn't mean you get to blame my son! The maid saw it!"
"And what exactly did your maid see? How did my son cut his face? What's your name?"
"Vivian…"
"Well, go on, Vivian; let's hear and don't stall!"
"You! This is not your place; you don't get to come to my house and disrespect the individuals here! Including your older sister."
"I'm just trying to find out what happened, mother. Vivian."
"Well, uh… He wanted the young master's marbles and when he wouldn't give them to him, she started attacking the young master verbally and physically, so much so that I had to pull him off."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. He was acting like an animal." The young woman took a stance similar to that of the matriarch standing at the front. Macie was going to add but Michelle raised her palm to cease.
"Michonne."
"Mother."
"Since the truth is out and there's a witness, no need for this wild display any longer. And since you cannot discipline him well, I'll do it as his grandmother. Vivian, get the stick."
"My son is many things but a liar isn't one of them. My son never lies. Look at the other one. Have him open his hands."
"Why are you blaming him?" Her sister snapped in annoyance.
Michonne didn't even look at her sister and mother. She walked over to her nephew, prying his hands open, revealing a piece of the broken antique jade vase. She took it and tossed it on the floor for the room to see. Strolling back to her son, who gazed at her with soft eyes and a grin, he held her hand and gave a teasing gaze to Kyle. Vivian got quiet as she bowed her head, not daring to add more.
"Malicious woman!"
"I am deeply sorry! I—" She turned to Michelle, then to Macie. Neither gave attention.
"Kyle should not have raised his hand first and Andre should not have called him names or tried to take what wasn't his; it led to this mess. But still, it was squabbles of children. It was just a vase. No real harm done. Let us leave this here."
Michonne's giggle was soft and tinged with fascination at the situation. Crossing her arms over her chest, she tried to take her breath in response to the criticism directed at her kid.
"AJ, baby?"
"Yes, mom?"
"Do you know where you went wrong?"
"Mhmm…" His voice was hushed. "I shouldn't have called him bad names and fought him—"
"Wrong! I taught you to defend yourself. If someone hits you first, then by all means you have the right to hit them back, but I also thought you should come to me when I'm there."
"I'm sorry…"
"You shouldn't have called him names but that's not your fault; it's mine." She said it louder so everyone could hear it. "It's my fault for speaking such things as the child's birth around him."
"You shouldn't have said it in the first place!"
"Why not?" She covered her son's ears. "Is it not the truth? Did you not go after your best friend's married father and destroy a home? Is your child not a product of your behaviour? You go after any wealthy man you can get your hands on, regardless of who they belong to. You're a high-class prostitute, a courtesan if we're being classy." Michonne brushed her locs back nonchalantly.
"How dare you, you bitch?"
"The responsibility of André's discipline falls to me and his father. Touch my child again and see…"
"You should clear this up, Mother, lest others think my son is going around bullying his cousin because he believes himself better, an opinion you and Macie seem to share."
"Are you going against me?"
If I don't put a stop to this today, there is sure to be a next time. I've gone through it enough with these people, but it ends today. I won't put my children through it again, bridges be damned!
"My child was accused of things he didn't do; an adult lied on his name and you and Macie even intended to beat him without so much of a hesitation! His face was even cut in the process. Do you think what Kyle and the maid did was right? If he's right, André will have to bear the fallout. Think about it carefully. If they are wrong, then there should be some punishment, like what you wanted to inflict on my son. Tell me."
"You disrespectful—"
"Would you rather I lie? Would that feed your ego better? Would that make you feel better and finally give my son some justice?"
"How dare you!"
"Mother, you should do the right thing." Michonne only knew her brother had entered the fray when he stepped next to her, backing her up. "The maid should be fired. As for him, give him the stick."
"How can you just choose her side? Am I not your sister too? Is he not your nephew too?"
"It's not about sides! It's about principles! He actively lied to get someone else in trouble. What kind of vindictive shit is that?"
"Michael, don't play favourites! They are both your sisters. I decided to let it go so that, as cousins, they should not hold grudges against each other. I will deal with Vivian."
"You talk to Mike about favouritism? You've been playing favourites my whole life."
"Chonne… Don't." She ignored her brother's plea.
"No. I have never been able to get away with any of the shit that both Mike and Macie have done. Not once! I didn't understand then, but I'm not a kid anymore. I did everything I was supposed to do. The two friends I have are a result of my knowing my place."
"Ungrateful! After everything Mom and Dad have done for you, to stand there and make it sound like you're some victim! But what was I expecting? You've always been a pompous, self-absorbed, attention-seeking bitch who always got what she wanted. You had your whole life planned out for you and it still isn't enough. You fucking bitch."
"It just irks you that I'm better than you in every single way, doesn't it? Whether it's grades, the arts, or just any attention I got from others at all. You are such a jealous—"
"So you admit your father and I treated you fairly."
"Fairly? There was a point in my life when I wasn't allowed friends mother, when Mike and Macie were. They were allowed that and going out and make mistakes. Mike could kill someone and he'll still be your sweet boy. Any affection I got was tangent on my behaviour and how I reflected on our family. Macie is so jealous of my marriage that she should've had. And we all know even your friends watching us know why."
"What are you talking about, bitch?"
"Shhh, Mace, I'm getting to that. I wasn't supposed to marry Shane… You were. But because of your love for married men, you got knocked up and Mom and Dad couldn't give you the life you wanted because of your actions. In our oh-so-traditional family, you got knocked up and nothing from them! Nope, nothing! They just quietly moved on to me. So you see, dear sister, I'm not the one they planned for."
"The life that you have now is because your father and I gave it to you."
"Yes, I can't dispute that… However, I remember Dad's words: I'm a Walsh; my responsibility is to my current family, so my children have nothing to do with you nor do I. This is the last time I'll come here."
"Disrespectful child!"
Michonne gripped her son tight and bypassed every single person, not spearing a glance. She was dead serious. Both she and Sasha decided to make good on their commitment. When they arrived, Sasha took the kids inside so Michonne made a call. No one would hurt or use her children and she'd never let this incident go, waiting for the right time for a home run. The first step in this was to let her spouse know. Shane, however, was currently on the necks of his board of directors.
"What are we? Answer. That's a real question."
"Our business model is scalable. Our brand fuels many value propositions and generates diverse revenue streams. Briton's business isn't just about making movies and selling news; it's also about creating and sustaining brands." The short, curly-haired man named Aaron stated it matter-of-factly.
"Exactly!"
"That being said, we are an all-American multinational mass media and entertainment conglomerate that people want to see fail... Becoming a monopoly is not the best move." Aaron surmised, knowing it was not what Shane wanted to hear. Soon after, an Asian woman chimed in.
"He right. Maybe we should slow down and focus on our current situation. Stabilising is the most important thing. Let me say, may that girl rest in peace, but the bad press is hurting us and we have the issue with the bank."
"We're already a fucking monopoly. Bad press; what a fucking joke. We're a fucking multi-media company. Who's fucking us, huh? Who, just who's gonna tell my old man no? Yumiko, I get it… I do." Her shrewd decisions were why the company survived the last depression without any major damage; he'd still fight. "It still don't mean shit. If we privatise, it helps?"
"Well, yes but that is not—" A phone rang.
"Hold on…" Shane hurried out, putting his phone in his ear.
"Babe. What's wrong? Did something happen?"
"You can't rely on my family... I kind of disowned them... about fifteen minutes ago."
"What happened? The phone went quiet. "Chonne, talk to me."
"They slashed your son's face."
"You serious? You being real right now?
"Yeah, I'm being dead serious!"
"You did the right thing. I deal with this when I get home. Where are you now?"
"With Sash, at a fun house, trying to lift the kids' spirit…"
"That's good. They need it… Babe, I gotta go—"
"Shane, wait!" She sucked in heavily. "Can we come by… Babe, the kids miss you."
"I'm sorry, you can't. I'm swamped. I gotta important meeting. I only took a break to take this call."
"I get it; I do. Can you at least come home early?"
"I don't—I don't know, but I'll try."
"You have to go to Ronan today. You can't miss it."
"Ah shit. I forgot… I'll be there, but I gotta go. I'll see you later. Love you."
…
The lush emerald leaves fluttered in the air, their faces gleaming in the sun. The falling leaves seemed to be having a constant, quiet conversation, their murmurs and whispers filling the air and rustling as the wind blew across them. With the garden in full bloom, the air was filled with the scent of early May. Michonne didn't care for the mansion, but for the large, peaceful gardens she stood in and for the azure blue sea that sprawled far and wide and blended with the sky on the distant horizon concealed behind the frigid white mansion's walls. Her eyes were unfaltering yet soft while she focused on the sounds. At times, raging waves slammed against the cliffs, and the ocean's voice turned into a chorus of screaming giants. At times, the ocean's rhythm was like a soothing pulse, a continual reminder of nature's presence, as it is now. She closed her huge brown eyes, absorbing everything, until the sound of a heavy, uneasy footstep jolted her out of her reverie. Magna stared at Michonne as though she were studying a paper. From her grey, satin, dolman-sleeve knee-length dress to her black T-strap heels. Michonne stared back at her, calm and composed. Not a ripple in sight.
"May I help you?"
"Oh, no. Mind any company?"
"Make yourself at home. Any guest of 'my good brother' is a guest of me."
"Thank you." Magna took a deep breath and rubbed her chest.
"Your first pregnancy?"
"How—"
"Try ginger. It's old-fashioned, but it works. Until then, have a mint; it'll help."
"Thank you…" She stared cautiously at the mint as Michonne smiled with a stretched hand.
"You are very welcome. Walk with me?"
"Oh, alright." Michonne hooked their arms together at Magna's confirmation, strolling through the garden.
"So how did you meet, Monty?"
"A mutual friend introduced us."
"And did this mutual friend happen to introduce you at one of his 'special' parties?" A momentary look of discomfort crossed Magna's pretty face. "I'm not judging you, but a word from the wise, don't let anyone know. Even if Kendall is friendly, don't trust her. What's your sexuality?"
"I'm bi… Monty already told me about his grandfather; he's—"
"Traditional… He doesn't care who you fuck; certain family 'associates' might... Don't bring up politics; speak less, listen more. You need to change how you dress; you're trying too hard." Michonne stared her up and down. Processing the white and pink, long-sleeved floral dress, yellow straw sun hat, and pink pumps.
"What makes you say that?" Her lips grew thin and firm, breaking from Michonne, like she'd touched something hot.
"The men might not notice but the women definitely will. Let me take a guess about you… An aspiring actress or model. You were raised poor. You're the oldest of three, maybe four, girls. Your mother wasn't in the picture, that's for sure. Probably dead… No, probably left when you were young, leaving your dad to raise you. Anger issues and Juvie?" Michonne saw her muscles stiffen. "Should I go on?" Spasms of irritation ran laps across her face. Just as she was ready to lash out, Michonne switched gears. "Do you like flowers?"
"What? Uh, I guess?"
"I love flowers... I love their beauty, I love watching them grow and I love the different meanings they hold… Do you know this one?" Michonne reached out to touch one of the deep, dark crimson flowers in front of them.
"No, they're pretty."
"Hmm, these are called black dahlias. They represent death, betrayal and anguish and should not be given carelessly."
"Why the hell would they grow them here?" Michonne tilted her head to the side inquisitively at her question and chuckled.
"Ronan's third wife gifted him this flower the day before she was murdered, so he plants them."
"Wow…"
"Yes, and yet I can't think of a place more fitting for it. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Michonne's face never once fluctuated throughout this entire conversation. Magna took a clear look at her and came to the realisation that, though she still had that polite smile on her face, her eyes gave away nothing; they were empty. Those brown pools of hers read her like a book yet revealed nothing unless it willed it. Monty had made it clear that she should get closer to her. But she didn't understand why. The woman next to her was dangerous.
This is a bad idea, Monty! I don't think—
"Monty sent you to me, didn't he?"
"How—" Michonne began to circle her like she was a cornered rabbit.
"You know the difference between Monty and a condom? Condoms have evolved; they're not so thick and insensitive anymore… I may not like him, but I admit he's insensitive and ignorant, not stupid. He understands there are certain things he won't be adept at dealing with. We women fight differently; we're more calculated, and quiet. Even so, just as ruthless and important. Women underestimate the power they hold…"
"Can I trust you?" Magna decided it best to just come straight out and ask. "Can I?" Michonne stopped moving and bore deep into her before letting out a booming laugh at her silly question.
"No! You can't… Monty miscalculated… Now that you shared this thought, I hope it made room for something smart?"
"Excuse me?"
"A piece of advice... I would hide my pregnancy for as long as possible and after that, watch what I ate and drank and my back. If I could figure it out, so could Eleanor, Andrea, and others... I'll leave you to it then."
Walking back to the mansion, Michonne could sense someone's attention on her. Certain it wasn't Magna, she came to an absolute standstill. Her lips opened, but she uttered nothing. She immediately clenched her jaw, gnawing on her bottom lip as an innate response to the jumbled mix of ideas in her head, and turned to confront his commanding gaze. They stood there in their silent battle until Michonne broke eye contact and went on her way. Entering the gathering room on the ground floor, she joined her mother-in-law on the white, vintage velvet settee, where she was having a glass of red wine. Her legs lapped as she watched Andre and Maliyah torment each other. Eleanor wore a white lantern-sleeve, button-up silk shirt with red, high-waisted trousers and a lip to match. Her jet-black hair wasn't slick back today; she wore it in a wavy retro bob and white Mary Jane platform pumps on her feet. It didn't matter where she was or who she was with; Eleanor had to look good. Michonne couldn't help but sigh.
"You look lovely."
"Naturally."
"Did those two knuckleheads give any trouble while I was out?"
"Other than harass each other? Nah… What happened to his face?"
"My nephew… It's a clean cut. It won't scar. It won't happen again."
"Say away from those people… That thing with John, I'll talk to Ronan about it later." Michonne nodded in acceptance, at the same time she saw Magna enter with Monty, gaining Eleanor's attention. "What's that boy thinking?"
"He brought her... He's definitely serious…"
"Is she pregnant? Is that why he's doing it?"
"I don't… think so... I spoke to her in the gardens earlier; she even asked for a cigarette before I told her I don't smoke… You dislike her?"
"Well, look at her. She dresses like she's playing doll house and she's the fucking doll. She's so fucking easy to read; her intentions here aren't pure… at all."
"Are anyone's intentions pure?"
"No, but she's too obvious, and not in an endearing way. Sometimes I wonder if Monty is right in the fucking head. She can't help him; she's not like you, me, or even the blonde hussy in the other room; she has nothing to offer, and she doesn't know our ways. She's green. Far too green." Michonne leaned in a hushed voice to retort,
"I didn't know anything either and look, I made it. I think she has something there. Look at you. You came from nothing and did well for yourself. I don't think you should write her off just yet. Monty seems to actually love her."
"It's not the same thing. You may've been sheltered but learned quickly, you were a part of this life. And I… I did whatever necessary. Not judging her because she's poor… She just doesn't have it… She relying on Monty, is the dumbest fucking shit I have ever bore witness to. Relying on a man? I'll trust a thief with my money before I do that! I learned long before I got married that John wasn't shit."
"What do you mean?"
"You know it; you've seen it... Two months before I married, a woman contacted me. Jacqui, that was her name… Told me she was pregnant and John was the father. Part didn't want to accept it. Believe it or not, there was a time when I'd been in love—with him. I made it clear to her not to contact me again—I ignored it for a whole month! That was until I saw 'em—saw how he looked at her. He'd never looked at me that way and I had to know why. So, I found out where she worked and showed up at her job… I understood exactly why. She had it—that thing that men loved. Do you know what I'm talking about?" Eleanor replenished her wine glass.
"No." Michonne swallowed the saliva stuck in her throat. Her entire body felt cold, though there was no draft. Eleanor's eyes made the hair on her body perk up. Her mother-in-law downed her glass, refilling it.
"Yes, yes you do... She was pretty, but she had nothing on me. However, she had it. All the things that aroused feelings of love and affection in men. She even had this air of innocence that could trick you… There, I stood in front of a woman my fiancé was in love with, who was also carrying his baby… I told her to get rid of it, but she wouldn't so I warned her and left... I wonder how it felt for him not being able to marry her… Jacqui was black, you see… I may've been poor, but to those he was doing business with at the time—those he aligned himself with when he was digging his way to power—she held no benefit. You know those 'conservatives'. Different time, I guess... "
"And you? What happened after?"
"I remember the face he had when she lost that baby. Remember well. He still married me though, because he knew right then what he needed by his side. I would never get his love, and I lost whatever affection he had for me as time went on. It didn't matter to me. That man is so much worse than I'd ever be. The things he could think of, my mind could never conceive... I might be going to hell, but John sure is coming with me. Shane and Monty—they're too much like their father to have just anyone by their side. The girl's too green. Her eyes are bigger than her stomach. She's going to cause problems sooner or later." Michonne didn't know how to respond and her chest felt heavy. Luckily, Maliyah came running in her lap, mouth pouting far, while her blue pools filled with tears as if the world had wronged her.
"Mama!"
"Baby? What's wrong?"
"AJ pulled my hair!" Michonne grabbed her closer and began to soothe her brown, shaggy curls, kissing her dimpled cheeks.
"Andre," Michonne called with a critical squint.
"Nuh-uh! No, it's her fault! She wanted my iPad and got her hair tangled in my chain. That's not my fault! I never told her to fight me."
"My… Why are you fighting your sister?"
"I wasn't fighting! I just don't wanna give her my iPad. It's mine!"
"Can't you two share?"
"Why? it's mine… I don't touch her dolls…" He turned his face away, scrunching his nose to high heaven with a pointed chin. Eleanor, watching this, grinned, completely letting it envelop her face. She rubbed freshly trimmed curly black hair.
"He's right. What his, is his. I get it, but you and Shane spoil her too much. She can't have everything." Hearing her grandmother's words, Lia buried her face in her mother's bosom. Andre calmed and settled between Eleanor and his mother.
"I know… I'm trying; I am... Shane doesn't help. He makes it hard being the stern parent when he lets her get away with murder."
"Of course it's him." She sighed.
"Lia?"
"Mama?"
"You do know I have to comb your hair in time for dinner now, right?"
"No…" Her bottom lip protruded.
"Yes…"
"Eleanor?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm taking Lia up stairs."
"Go. I'll watch Mr. Man here."
…
Michonne quickened her pace to try catching up to her energetic daughter when she saw a familiar but unwelcome person holding her. His gaze was gentle, complimented by a comely smile—a smile she was once fond of. She saw Maliyah tug on his beard and a strong, joyful laugh fell from his mouth. Michonne paused her steps at the sight that befell her and her chest tightened and her entire body became impossibly still. Nausea swept over her in a wave. The sound of her heartbeat was overwhelming in the silence as she gathered the mental fortitude to confront him. She stood firm, ready to take back her child, but he made no sudden movements, simply kissing Lia on her temple. After what felt like forever, his piercing blue eyes glanced up at her, beating a rush of excitement in her chest, only to bring his gaze back to her child.
"She's just perfect, ain't she?"
"She is; I think I'll keep her." Michonne stretched her hands to take her; however, Rick pulled back.
"Hey, Mal… You don't mind getting to know me a bit, right? I'm sure if you say yes, your mama will agree."
"Mama? Can I play with Uncle Rick? Pwease?" She knew her child better than herself. The little brat didn't want to comb her hair. She knew when to be cute to get her way—when to get her needed attention.
"Lia, please, let's not—"
"Where's Carl?"
"Keeping the old man company. Where's your husband? With the mistress?"
"You are not doing this with my daughter here. Give her to me." Rick looked back and forth between the two.
"You're right. She didn't need to hear this, but we ain't done talking." He kisses Lia once on her crown as he sees a maid leave Ronan's bedroom and flag her over. "Sweetpea, I need to say a few things to your mama for a bit. Can you go with Miss Carla so she can take you to Grandma? Just for a little while."
"Okay…"
"Good girl." He handed her over. His eyes were still and he never left her until she was out of sight. That's when he decided to grace her with his gaze again. "Look at her... Perfect." He opened the door to Ronan's study so they could talk without prying eyes.
"What is it? What do you want from me?"
"I told you to expect a call from me."
"I got no such call."
"I never said you did. I had to settle Carl first… I talked to Shane; he helped me get Carl into the same school as your boy."
"What are you doing here, Rick?"
"I'm back with my family... Am I not allowed?"
"Cut the bullshit! We both know damn well that you're not here for them. And what's this about you being COO? How did you even push Cophe out when John was set on him? Your brother loves you, so whatever you're planning, leave him out of it. I don't know what you think happened to Lori but it was suicide."
"You and Lori were close leading up to her death; don't try bullshitting me, she told me herself… I'm gonna ask you some questions and you will answer me."
"Why would I do that?"
"Oh, you better. A lot is dependent on how you behave, darling."
"Rick."
"Was Lori pregnant when she passed?"
"Ye—Yes."
"Who was the father?"
"I think I—I don't know—"
"Who do you think? Be honest."
"John… I saw them once, just once…"
"You saw 'em… Who else? Did she mention anything suspicious? Like name or—"
"Rick. I can't; I made a promise. Please." A momentary look of discomfort crossed her face as she glanced around, not focusing on anything; she didn't meet his eyes. Rick took her arm.
"Think about Carl."
"I am thinking about him. It's why I can't say anything. If you care about your son, don't. Just don't. You are not the one that matters here." He released her but kept the gap closed and bent his face to her ear.
"And your family ain't got nothing to do with this? You're still so selfish, even after all this time… Let me ask you this. Who is Maliyah's real father?" Her eyes flicked for a millisecond; however, she managed to rope it back in and kept her tone deceptive even as she gave a mocking crackle.
"What the hell are you on about? I'm not doing this; you're crazy!" As she walked away, he pulled her back.
"I told you Lori was one of the reasons I came back. I'm giving you another one… You let another man raise my child all this time… Fucking me over once ain't enough?"
"You're insane!"
"You're a fucking liar!" He grabbed her face. "All you do is lie! Can you tell the truth for a goddamn change? Or is that beyond you? You're such a piece of fucking work. God, you drive me crazy! You take me for a fool; you always have... Tell me the truth." Michonne's lips were wide, hanging loosely in a forlorn mental state.
"I had my reasons. You know I did…" Her eyes were scarcely open, yet he noted how they glistened with unshed tears. They fell when she whispered, "I'm sorry…" He nodded in rapid motion in acceptance. His slight smile gave way that he was trying to overcome. "I'm sorry…"
"How long… how long did you know? Was it before I left or—"
"Rick…"
"Just tell me."
"Before… Rick. I had my reasons."
"Why? After a whole other woman, two miscarriages, two outside children, the drugs… Do you love him that much?"
"It's not that simple... I do love my husband… He and I have hurt each other so much so, I've lost count. It's unfair for me to expect more from him when he's just not built to be a good person. He's not like you, and he never will be. I didn't stay with him because I loved him. That may sound like a contradiction to you, but it's the truth."
"So why? Are you in love with him?"
"I—I honestly couldn't say... I don't know... As for why, there are many reasons."
"Like what? You gonna stand here and tell me you destroyed everything that I worked for—that we did, you gave a man my child and you ain't even sure of your goddamn feelings for him. Nah, you better start talking."
"It's so easy for you. You can call me selfish, but you're the most selfish person I know! You want to know... Well, for one, I had my son to think about!" She yelled, banging her chest, locking in a heated glare with her former lover. "I'm a piece of work? Well, you make me sick!"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah?"
Rick snatched her by the waist and they stared as though hypnotised. His eyes conveyed vulnerability that she saw only when he was with her all that time ago, and before she could say a thing, he had covered her full lips with his own. As the kiss deepened, his right hand was caressing her all over, soon finding its way under her dress. She was like the opposite of a Shame plant, wrapping his arms around his neck unconsciously. When his finger made way to enter her, Michonne ceased his hand, snapping away from his lips, thwarting any movement from either of them till her hands jerked back like she'd touched fire. She covered her mouth and adrenaline jolted through her veins, signalling her to leave.
"So much for making you sick."
Anger rushed in the moment the shock faded at his arrogance, and she pushed past him, not willing to face her partner in crime and bolted down the staircase. Magna watched Michonne from across the room. She seemed different from their encounter. Frazzled, on edge. Her arms were wrapped around herself while she tiptoed over to her kids.
What's her deal? Where did she come from?
"I don't like her."
"Come on, Magna."
"I thought you said she'd help?"
"I told you to try and get her on your side. You didn't; that's on you."
"Screw you."
"You're already doing that, Blondie." Monty sipped on his glass of gin and cast a gaze on his sister-in-law. "You may not like what she said, and you sure ain't gotta; however, she's danced this song longer than you can dream. If she says your fucking trash, that's what the hell you are."
"Wow, what good moral support."
"I ain't here to hold your hand; it'd do you more harm than good if I did hold your hand."
"She told me to hide my pregnancy for as long as possible."
"She did? She knows?" Monty's hand was only a few inches away from the glass's stem when his eyes dilated, his usual conciseness replaced with foggy scepticism.
"She said that if she could tell, so would others, like your mom could find out as well, and that when it does finally come out, to be careful."
"I see. I don't think she's told Mom anything yet. You should've told me this first… She says she won't help but she kept it, huh?" His face brightens like a glowing sign, and he forfeits his body to the revelry, tracking Michonne's every move. "She ain't change a bit; still so soft."
"But she said she won't help."
"She won't go out of her way, but unlike the others, she won't actively hurt you. She's just washing her hands of what happens in the future."
"So, what do I do?"
"Stick to her. Beat her down. I'd tell you to seduce her, but I don't think she's into that."
"So cheating is not the problem? But the fact that she doesn't swing my way." Her brow rose with his smile.
"No, that too, though unlike you, she's actually wife material. Nothing like the both of us, baby."
"Oh, kiss my ass."
…
Joseph Walsh, his heavily pregnant common-law wife Mortica Pines, his three children, Ethan and his wife Reya, Emmanuella and Evan, and his three grandchildren, Rachel, Lena, and Luke, had just arrived in time to kick off the dinner leading into the family weekend. Shane and Kendall weren't here, much to Eleanor's disgust. Michonne made her way to Ronan's bedroom at her mother-in-law's behest to let it be known that dinner was ready and everyone else present was gathered in the dining room. She reached to turn the knob and paused when the whispering Ronan and Rick enticed her ears to eavesdrop. Not much was learned considering only bits and pieces survived the muffled travel. Words like 'Company', 'Dept', 'Shares' and 'Son' induced small hair to rise on her body. Her cheeks blew out with a heavy breath meant to steady her and a smile was forced in an effort to conceal her worry and doubt, a skill she fostered for years. The bells were ringing once more, and she didn't know why. She was frozen until the voice of a young child shook her sane, causing her to finally open the door and greet them.
"Ah, I forgot to knock. Sorry, hope I'm not disturbing."
"No, no, my dear! Come, let me see you!" Michonne sprints and kneels next to Ronan's wheelchair, taking his hardened palm. Coldness from his six mammoth sized rings invading her.
"Aunt Michonne!" He dashed, hugging her.
"You remember me? You were so young when you left!"
"Of course I do! I still got a picture of you and Dad!"
"A picture…Oh." She immediately fixed her faltering smile. "Dad's had you lock up all day with great gramps?"
"Yeah, Dad's been busy, but grandpa fun!"
"Yes, he is, but I sure it wouldn't have hurt to have someone around your age to play with."
"There's nobody like that here."
"Not true! There's my son Andre, and uncle Joseph just got here with his family. He's got grandchildren around your age."
"Really?"
"Yeah! Tomorrow, I expect to see you out and about!"
"Joe here…" Ronan mumbled to himself.
"That's part of the reason I came up. Dinner is ready. Shall we go?"
…
Rick kept his gaze fixed on Michonne as she strode across the room. Michonne had been a slender woman with unexpectedly generous curves for as long as Rick had known her. She created an outstanding figure with her full lips, breasts, and round hips. Michonne's most attractive features were her rich chocolate-brown complexion, big brown eyes to match and the long black butterfly locs that she seldom allowed falling below her waist when she wasn't wearing them in a tidy styled bun. A prideful woman, never a hair or speck out of place. She made sure Andre was properly seated and went on her own, placing Maliyah on her lap. Lia sneakily reached out to the table to steal a piece of meat. Unbeknownst to her, Rick was surveilling her every movement. Rick tried to suppress his chuckling but delved into low laughter at her little antics. This earned the attention of the family, who spun in their chairs to see the commotion. Michonne had sensed his gaze on her and Lia the entire time. She delivered a warning glare, cautioning him about his shameless behaviour.
I shouldn't've admitted shit! Can't he have some decorum?
Not catching a reason for his outburst, everyone went back to eating. Michonne adjusted Lia and decided not to pay any more attention to the immoral clown on her left.
"So, Carl, are you liking being back home in America?"
"Michonne, you should have gotten a high chair for her." Reya implored.
"This one is a picky eater; she makes a mess everywhere; better not." She implored.
"Oh, nonsense! She three! It's her job to be those things. Besides, what are the servants here for?"
"Why the hell are you telling her what to do with her child? Don't you got your own demons to micro-manage. Look at that jackass at the end with the damn lamb sauce." His chin points towards Luke.
"I'm sorry. Who are you?" Ethan and Rick became locked in an intense stare-down.
"What was that, you stupid cunt?" Eleanor turned, blue eyes cold and proud, same as Rick's.
The whole table grew stagnant, and gazes bounced out off each other. Even Andrea had nothing to add. Ronan placed his utensils down on the table, picked up a serviette and wiped his mouth. Making all cease movement. The tensing of his jaw informed the room that it would end now. Logan partially raised Rick. He gave him all the fine things in life and never let him perceive himself as less, as much as possible, among his remaining grandchildren. When Rick made the choice to leave, Ronan used all tactics in his book to keep him from going. Rick wasn't a Walsh, but it didn't matter. Many saw him as an outsider and a bastard, but none vocalised it. For Ethan to utter such a foolhardy question, one wondered if he was indeed a cunt.
"I hear the media's on your asses… That girl?" Everyone's face went slack at the twist. "What is this?"
"It's still being investigated; no harm done. I'll be over soon enough. Don't worry about the media. We are the media. Don't think too hard, Dad. Shane will deal with it; he's dealing with it now."
"All this mess; I'm getting too old to make the big decisions."
"Your still young, Rone! Don't sell yourself short." Eleanor smiles, softening him up a bit.
"Always the silver tongue with you... Still, I think it's time."
"Time for what, Rone?"
"I'm giving Richard my stocks in the company!"
If a person's goal was to create World War III, Ronan's words were the perfect catalyst. Michonne lifted her head, fiddled with her daughter's hand, and surveyed the members of her esteemed 'Royal' family. For the first time this evening, Monty looked rattled. Ethan, Emmanuella and Evan sat unblinking, processing the new devastating blow. Reya kept looking back and forth at Ronan and Ethan's faces, hazy with uncertainty. Eleanor's brow slid up, though she hid a slight smirk on her pretty, red lips with her wine class. Joseph clearly wanted to add something but held his tongue, seeing John not say a word. Out of everyone here, John was the most contradictory in terms of reactions. He did not move a muscle, didn't even seek out his father, and continued eating.
Would he really allow another man's child to hold so much power in his company? Did he love Rick that much? A man like him?
Given Rick was now the second most influential person to the company, with the second most stakes only behind John and to be the knew COO, She could understand 'The Plight Of Man' she bore witness to. A pity that Kendall and her husband weren't present to receive this gift. She couldn't help but ponder whether her husband would still trust his most beloved brother. She knew the man casing all this smoke was waiting for her attention, nonetheless Michonne didn't meet his gaze and bluntly declared,
"Congratulations."
"Grandfather, you're not serious, are you?" Emmanuella didn't care, this was ridiculous to her.
"And why wouldn't I be serious?"
"What's she tryna say is, this is a family business, and though Rick is family, I'm sure everyone agrees with that." He spun he neck everywhere as if trying to get others to join in his 'sacrifice'. "It's not really the same as actual blood."
"What you name again boy?" Ronan stroked his chin.
"Uhh, Granddad… it's Ethan..."
"Listen here, Ethan… It's mine… and I get to decide what the fuck I do with 'em. Fuck off… I tired… Help me Richard."
"Sure, old man."
And that is how dinner concluded.
…
Shane gazed out the window, momentarily confused as to why it was so dark. His wonder ended when a lithe voice bombarded him. A voice he was familiar with all his life.
"I heard Dad's fucking you."
"Yeah, well…"
"Wanna talk about it?"
"You of all people? You gonna sit here and play Kumbaya with little ol me?"
"Oh, cut that shit out... I shouldn't've asked. Ugh!"
"Come on, K." He grabbed her hand before she stomped away in annoyance.
"Don't fuck with me."
"Let's talk."
"About?"
"I don't know... life? Dad? Why we're both late?
"I'm… I'm thinking about selling... We're at risk of getting eaten anyways."
"K… you serious? If you need help, just ask."
"I'm not giving Dad any leverage... If I ask, it means I failed."
"You and your ego; it's fucking horseshit. You gonna throw away everything you worked for for pride?"
"Yeah… If I sell, I'll make the decision. I'd ended it on my terms. So yeah."
"Alright, sell… Come work for me. No, work with me."
"Shane…"
"I know you said you ain't wanted nothing to do with Briton, but we both know that's bullshit. Dad ain't never wanted you to get involved and—"
"He's a parochial cunt!" She snapped, "And still don't trust that I can do this."
"Why me? Why not Monty? He could be a better help."
"I don't trust Monty. I trust you and I trust Rick… What do you say, K?" He put out his right hand, waiting for her to accept. Kendall stared at him, then down at his hand, a motion she repeated about five times till she took it.
"Okay… Okay, but I have to get a real say. A real seat at the table."
"Alright!" Shane boldly affirmed his stance towards her.
"Alright…By the way," she remembered a thought that nags her. "Philip Blake? What the fuck? What happened to Lance Hornsby?"
"Hornsby is running for his final term. It's simply replenishing the stock. You know better, K."
"With Philip Blake?"
"Dad and Grandpa likes him. Little matters. You know that. Besides, it ain't our concern."
"Not our concern? If he's anything like Hornsby, it's definitely yours."
"I ain't had a one-on-one with the guy yet. What's that supposed to mean?"
"Shane… You gotta a black wife and biracial children. Come on."
"My family was fine before; they're gonna be fine after."
"Okay." Kendall threw up her hands in defeat. "We are late, so we should head in."
Dinner was long concluded. Light from the patio shone through the small window, a scented candle aiding in the welcoming shadows of the. At 11:00 p.m., only the estate guards were active. Kendall went upstairs first, leaving Shane sitting on the bottom stairs. He washed his face with his hands as if attempting to wake himself up by wiping away the fatigue and puffiness. Getting up, he considered it to require more work than it was worth. When he and his wife slept at his grandfather's, the corridor to their shared bedroom seemed four times longer than usual. When he walked in, he noticed her sitting up in the bed with her back against the headboard, reading 'Anna Karenina' by Leo Tolstoy. She didn't raise her gaze at him, nor did she welcome him as she always did. He dragged out a fresh bathrobe and went to the bathroom. The water from the shower was relaxing, and when he came out, he wondered if he should have stayed since his darling wife had now decided he was worth her time.
"Nothing to say, huh?"
"Michonne… not tonight. I'm fucking tired."
"Okay!" Head nodding up and down like a bobblehead, she bent the tip of the page she was reading and put her book on the nightstand. "You're… tired! Shane is tired! Should I buy a cake? Should I invite Beyonce to sing for you? Should I go outside naked and scream it at the top of my lungs?"
"You gonna overreact?"
"Overreact… That's what I'm doing, huh? Overreacting?"
"Imma break this down for you to understand, babe. I got work!"
"Oh, my fucking gosh—"
"I gotta work, to provide, for my kids, So that your ass can enjoy all the fancy shit you love—"
"You're full of shit!"
"That fancy wine, that fancy clothes and shoes, The nice houses and nice cars—"
"Cut the bullshit! You are a billionaire! You don't have to work a day in your life because unlike most, you were born lucky! And you will inherit billions more when Ronan and John crooks, throw your mother in there! This isn't about me or the kids! It's not about us, It's about you!"
"Me! You're so damn vindictive…"
"I don't get your need to have your daddy's attention... You are his favourite. Does that make you feel better? You're his favourite, which means you're his favourite toy."
"Don't. Just don't."
"What is with this need—this desperate need for recognition and affection from a man who doesn't deserve it? If it weren't for the monthly family weekend, which you've been ducking for how long now, your kids wouldn't have even gotten a glimpse of you! When was the last time you saw them awake, Shane? Do you even remember?"
"Everything I do, I do for my kids! I ain't like you making it sound like I'm out here abandoning my kids. You been telling 'em this shit? It ends now! I ain't having it!"
"Keep your voice down or so help me, God! The fact that you think I'd even do something like that... Go sleep in another room. I don't want to see your face right now."
"People will see us."
"They've already fucking heard us, Shane! Your voice, it tends to carry."
"Imma give you your space… Gosh, you're fucking crazy."
"Maybe so, but I'm not a piece of shit like you. Get out Bill Clinton. I need my beauty sleep."
Shane stood unmoving, examining his wife's back as she prepared for bed, not paying him any mind. He rubbed his hand over his face, through his hair and bit his lip before storming out, slamming the bedroom door behind him shut. It was only when he was out of the room that Michonne let her locs down and looked at where he left. She slipped into her silk nightgown and went to bed. At the same time, a young man with ocean-blue eyes, walked under the starry night sky, thinking back to a simpler time.
7 years, 7 months prior
The sky was illuminated with stars like embers. It was the promise of life in the dark, a feeling of warmth emerging from the cold. It should've been a vastness to offer humility and an unending expanse to inspire thankfulness for the comfort of home. Rick considered each night's sky a new gift, no matter how many years passed. It made him feel better. And he hopes it will now. As he walked through the starry night, he met the figure of a woman's back. She didn't move a muscle and uncharitably gazed at what he sorted out. He recognised her immediately, and as he stepped unwittingly towards her, he noticed her tear-drained face. Each drop is like a shard of glass or a diamond.
"Michonne?" She didn't answer. It was almost like she was lost in her mind. "Michonne?" It was the second call on which she turned to him. She stared at him, then ran her fingers over her wedding ring.
"Did you know?" It was uttered so minutely, he didn't know if he missed some of her question.
"What?"
"Did you know about her?" They both understood exactly who she was referring to.
"I'm sorry…"
"Who else? Who else knew?" He couldn't answer her obvious, but tragic question. "So everyone knew? I was just a fool to laugh at." Rick could tell she'd sobbed extensively and for a long time since her eyes were swollen and most likely red. Her lips formed a half-formed, lifeless smile, and she tightened her crossed arms until she was more or less cradling herself.
"Shhh, it's not worth it." He rushed to her and gave her the warmest embrace he could muster. "I'm sorry."
"I lost my baby… I lost my baby…"
He wrapped her more tightly, unsure how to react. She rocked softly back and forth, her voice devolving into an inconsolable whine, gasping between wails, hardly able to gather her breath for the next, unaware she even was doing it. He gave her a soothing hug and offered compassion without words, whilst he placed a hand on her lower back and gently guided her to sit down. They didn't say anymore and held her chilled hand, enabling her to let it all out.
Present
If Rick could mark the day their relationship changed, it'd be then. He stopped being the distant brother-in-law and became a friend. He became a friend for her to cry on and he never minded. He reached in his pocket for a smoke, making his way through the graceful garden, when he saw a woman smoking by herself.
"I didn't expect you here. Come to your mother."
"It's quiet out here… It's nice…"
"As opposed to?"
"Your son and his wife are fighting…"
"Hmm… Is it about that woman?"
"I don't really know."
"Your brother needs to let that woman go, for his own sake."
"Mmm… Mom… I—I'm probably gonna break your heart. I just hope you can go on loving me like you been… I know it may be a selfish thing to want, but I want it nonetheless…"
"You were premature when I had you… So small—so frail yet perfect. I spent six months up and down with you in a hospital because I could not lose you… Shane, Monty, Kendall... They've never been mine, but their father's. You—you're mine. You're my boy, my sweet boy and you'll always be my boy." Eleanor held his cheek. "You got as much right as they do to fight. I love you, and I always will."
…
…
…
Keynotes-
is a proven relaxant, decreasing anxiety, calming the nervous system, and assisting with better quality sleep. Its benefits are realised upon inhalation of the sweet, woody fragrance or when absorbed through the skin.
Paris Wife is a fictional account of the relationship between Ernest Hemingway and his first wife, Hadley Richardson. The book follows the doomed relationship from its inception up until its dissolution several years later.
dahlias symbolise betrayal and sadness. They aren't actually black but a really dark crimson that can sometimes give the illusion of them being black. Most notably, they're associated with the infamous murder of Elizabeth Short in 1947 in Los Angeles. This case became known as "The Black Dahlia" murder, and it remains unsolved to this day. Can you see where I'm going with this ;D
pudica, or shame plant, is a creeping annual or perennial flowering plant. It is often grown for its curiosity value. The sensitive compound leaves fold inward, droop when touched or shaken and re-open a few minutes later. Mimosa pudica is not a carnivorous plant.
Karenina is a novel by the Russian author Leo Tolstoy, first published in book form in 1878. The narrative centres on the adulterous affair between Anna, wife of Aleksey Karenin, and Count Vronsky, a young bachelor. Karenin's discovery of the liaison arouses only his concern for his public image. Anna promises discretion for the sake of her husband and young son but eventually becomes pregnant by Vronsky. The story tells about the dangers of idealising a partner, the pitfalls of Romanticism, the difficulty of marriage and the importance of communication.
plight of man is a biblical reference. It means to be under the control of someone else or something else or it means that the human race is under the domination of sin. We are all part of the dominion of sin. Man outside of Christ is under the control of sin and he is helpless to escape from it.
Author's note
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This chapter is more than three thousand words over my goal, not including the keynotes or author's notes. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. While I was working on the others for One and Only and Elegance of Resilience, I kept coming back to this.
It's getting difficult to keep up with my deadline the closer we get to Christmas, and I probably won't do any major fic updates after I post One and Only until after the holidays, other than an update on the I Miss You one-shot some of you saw and liked and a one-shot, holiday fic that's not going to be more than three thousand words.
Right! As always, tell me your thoughts. What do you think of the chapter and characters? You met Ronan! Thoughts on John. Rick and Michonne? Michonne and Shane? Kendall? Eleanor, Michonne's family? By now, you see that these characters are going to be very grey, some more than others.