HEART OF CONTRACTS

UNEXPECTED PATHS

“THAT IS THE END OF THE WILL, SIR MICHAEL. YOU CAN ONLY HAVE ACCESS TO THESE PROPERTIES WHEN YOU GIVE BIRTH TO YOUR FIRST CHILD WITH A LEGAL WIFE,” The lawyer clarified, igniting a furnace of fury within Michael.

Before his father's demise, he had envisioned himself steering the helm of his father's vast properties until unforeseen barriers emerged like spectres.

His eyes turned a fierce red, rivalling the scorching hue of a ripe scotch bonnet pepper, as he stalked closer to the lawyer with unsettling intent. His tightening grip dispatched an ominous warning, causing the lawyer’s eyes to widen in alarm as he staggered back. “Ehm… Sir… what are you about to do to me? There’s CCTV everywhere, and it’ll expose your true self to the staff who already find you enigmatic in this office.”

The lawyer manoeuvred words to defuse Michael’s rising aggression, hoping to forestall harm. “I am…” But Michael’s eyes seemed to sync with his racing heartbeat; unhinged, he bolted from the office, letting the door slam behind him without uttering a syllable.

As he strode down the sixth floor’s corridor, colleagues parted like reeds before him, crafting an involuntary pathway devoid of obstruction. Oblivious to the whispers of workers in the law firm – his father’s dominion – Michael’s mind swirled with turbulent thoughts: “What do I do now? I won’t be yoked into marrying a stranger merely for properties. What’s my next move? Abandon this, and it defaults to that scheming cousin of mine? Nooo… Never.

He’d squander it all and still block my path to knowing my mother’s whereabouts. This will is the sole key to unravelling her mystery. I need Tyler – he’s the only one willing to invest time unravelling this labyrinth.” This resolution lent him a fragile calm as he settled into his car.

He drove home preoccupied, convinced Tyler would aid him in finding someone suitable to bear his child, thus securing access to his father’s empire in due time. Abruptly, he craved cake and wine – nostalgic comforts – prompting him to veer toward a nearby supermarket, reminiscing about the stringent lessons ingrained by his father.

His father had oft repeated, “Michael, all of this will be yours if you grow strong enough to repel anyone who’d stand in your way or oppose you. You can’t afford weakness or vulnerability. Ensure no one gains power over you through any c***k. Cover those loopholes, never let anything slide.” These dictates had sculpted Michael into a fearless, inaccessible, and taciturn figure, projecting an impenetrable facade both in his father’s realm and beyond.

His father’s death had exacted a toll; Michael wrestled with forgiveness but couldn’t acquiesce after a gut-wrenching betrayal.

Two years prior, he’d stumbled upon his father entwined with his fiancée in his office – a grotesque tableau seared into memory. Earlier, his father had implanted the notion that his mother had abandoned him for a lover; Michael had learned to excise her from existence, hardening himself against vulnerability, never permitting his cousins ingress into his psyche.

Paradoxically lonely, Michael’s trust was an exclusive enclave – reserved for Tyler, his childhood anchor, and, incongruously, his father – until the maelstrom of betrayal. The visceral memory assaulted him still: her legs wrapped around his waist, his father’s arms anchoring her, brittle knees pressed against her curves in red stilettos, a contemptuous glance dismissing him.

He’d vowed to eschew love, to never surrender his essence to another, repudiating his father’s counsel till his dying breath. News of his father’s death reached him two years after his abrupt departure; mingled sorrow and a heady sense of liberation warred within him – until the lawyer unveiled a cryptic breadcrumb about his mother’s whereabouts, concealed by his father for 17 years via a letter in a brown envelope. This compelled Michael’s return to his father’s city, only to confront an ultimatum: secure a wife and progeny to unlock his mother’s secrets.

“I wish I could extract the damn truth from that lawyer. How can he pledge fealty to such a… monster?” Michael seethed as he parked before the supermarket. Tyler’s ringtone interrupted his reverie. “What happened with the lawyer? Which monster does he serve? Your father?” Tyler’s voice through the car’s speakers jolted Michael back.

“Oh my, I forgot I’d been dialing you, lost in my head.” Michael replied. “Wherever you’re parked probably matches your frequent haunts – else you’d have snapped out of your distraction.” Tyler’s dry wit followed as he instructed his house help

“So answer my question, who is the monster? What happened at the lawyer's office today?” “I am at the supermarket close to yours. I just want to get my usual, after which i will head down to yours, bear with me till then” Michael cut the call without allowing a response. He knows Tyler won't let him off that easily without an extra instigation.

Michael had a frown on his face when he saw the queue at the supermarket filled with shoppers under the warm fluorescent lights amidst the hum of tropical air conditioning in the Seychelles store. He rushed down to order his favourite “Angel food cake” and picked 10 of his favourite wines in the store rack designed for only wines and gins – his ritual comfort. He placed the 10 different wines into his cart before waiting back for his cake, his mind intermittently flicking to the lawyer’s ultimatum.

…………………………………………………

Michelle woke up from a painful sleep, the aftermath of restless dreams mingling with grief. Still lying on her bed in the old mansion inherited from her parents, she kept staring at the ceiling fan’s slow revolutions, trying to choose between getting up to wash her clothes – power was available – or just lying still, cocooned in inertia.

A cry from her street pierced the air, disturbing her enough that she craned her neck, moving her eyes back and forth with fingers pressed to the window tip, seeking the source – trying to identify if the kid’s distress was nearby.

“Was it all in my head? Why did I hear it so clearly, yet I didn't see a thing?” Michelle wondered when she saw nothing but a stark, dry street with no humans strolling – like it had been meticulously swept by a machine, bearing a sign warning commuters to detour for strict cleanliness rules in this residential area of Seychelles’ coastal charm.

She ignored the subliminal disturbance, focusing instead on her craving for something cold; “water” was the cheapest option she could afford – abundant in her refrigerator, sparing her extra expense.

Descending the stairs she hated – memories lingered of parental arguments in their former house when her parents were alive – Michelle recalled their transformation: once lovey-dovey, they’d fallen out of love as financial crises deepened, culminating in their untimely deaths from heart attack and depression.

They’d bequeathed her this old mansion via a will laced with their insurmountable debts – a bittersweet consolation explaining why they couldn’t fund her master’s education, dashing promised aspirations.

Michelle grabbed an iced bottled water, trying to dissolve the chill as a message from her ex, Darius, arrived – one of the least expected intrusions, shocking in its arrival. His words brimmed with intent to “do right” if granted another chance; she dismissed him instantly, unwilling to revisit their ended dynamic face-to-face.

Michelle sat, eyes resting on antique artworks partly veiled by preservation cloths, conjuring what the painting might depict. She sipped the cold water after dissolving ice while a vivid flashback intruded: her mother painting in this very room as she, a child, cavorted with Darius.

Darius had seemed her destined match – chosen in primary school days despite their parents’ distant rapport; their bond had thrived unaffected by familial discord.

Their breakup’s crux, starkly evident, stemmed from her parents’ demise leaving her without inheritance; Darius sought a partner boosting his financial ascent – not one dragging him downward economically, safeguarding his accrued status.

He’d ended their five-year relationship on that premise, aligning with his present fiancée. Michelle halted her absent sip, abruptly shaken back to reality by his second message:

“I am sorry for not standing by you during times you needed me. I just could not ignore the fact that I needed extra help with my parents other than someone extra to help. I should have told you this earlier when your parents fell into a financial crisis, and it became evident to outsiders, but I pretended not to know, hoping it would be fixed soon. I really want you back in my life and will be coming down to visit you in six days. XOXO.” Half of Michelle’s upper lip tightened in distaste; her head tilted back as she dropped the phone on the table in disgust, unwilling to entertain his overtures further.

She headed straight to her room, arranging her suit for an impending second-stage interview – her tenuous hope for future survival. Deciding she needed accessories, she planned a trip to the downtown supermarket. Rummaging through her bag for her purse, she slipped on jeans with a hoodie knowing the supermarket’s distance from her humble abode in Seychelles, Michelle had fretted about securing the hair accessory vital for projecting professionalism at her looming interview. Upon entering the bustling market, the lengthy queue – a mélange of elderly patrons and spry youngsters – almost prompted her retreat, but perseverance paid off when she espied the coveted accessory from afar.

Clad in a hoodie, hands tucked cosily in its front kangaroo pocket, head cowled discreetly, Michelle padded forward. Her gaze alighted on a young man exuding allure via his chiseled profile; his milky brown skin seemed to glow under the tropical lighting as he deliberated over wines with intent focus, his short-sleeve two-piece suit revealing a striking tattoo gracing half his lower left arm.

Michelle’s instinct was to avert her gaze, but fate intervened as Michael’s wallet slipped earthward while he extracted a key – leaving her no choice but to hasten toward him, retrieving the fallen item. Quietly, she shadowed him through the aisles, captivated by his unguarded allure as she mulled over his unexpected cuteness – all before returning his wallet.

To Michelle’s perception, Michael’s wine selections betrayed a comforting ritual; his riveted attention on store tasks contrasted with an underlying awareness of her trailing presence – yet he elected benign neglect, consumed by specifications for his Angel food cake’s meticulous packaging.

Mutual awareness crackled subtly; Michelle sensed Michael’s knowledge of her pursuit, prompting her to savour their parallel focus on individual pursuits.

As Michael queued to settle his bill amid a now-shrinking line, introspection beset him: “Why does she persist in staring, stalking me? Is this the candidate the lawyer designated to orchestrate my next steps? Should confrontation ensue?” Show glass reflections affirmed her femininity.

“Or perhaps she’s merely an admirer? My social hiatus spans four years – surely she’d lack recognition based on outdated digital footprints.” Pivoting abruptly to unsettle her, Michael found vacancy – Michelle vanished from sight. Receipt in hand, he manoeuvred his cart toward the security checkpoint.

With haste, Michelle reacquired her hair accessory, transacted payment, and exited posthaste – hunting for Michael’s vanishing figure. Disappointment shadowed her park circuit until she spotted him actuating his car’s boot closure, approaching its door.

“Hey,” she croaked – a whisper lost to parksonal ambient noise. Bridging distance swiftly before he slipped inside, Michelle outstretched his wallet (brimming with cash) with bowed head, eschewing alarm.

Michael’s recollection jarred – he’d mystifyingly lacked his wallet at checkout, resorting to his store credit card – yet remained oblivious to its in-store drop. Dismissing her, he began car ingress until Michelle’s decisive toss lodged the wallet onto his car seat.