The Billionaires Too (#2)

41 || The Talk

MJ could not remember the last time she came to this house. She did not remember whether it was before Alastair adopted her or after she started the business; but she could never forget the house that was once her shelter.

The old, brick-layered mansion still stood out amongst the beauty of the social elites of London, its red-tiled roof giving it a classic look. The yard was bare of any vehicles, it was free of plants or lawn, and the place that was once a pool, was replaced by an ugly fountain and a mini garden after one kid almost drowned.

The interior of the house was modern and yet traditional, filled with imported accessories from South Africa and Nigeria. The couch in the sitting room resembled the skin of a leopard, and the pale walls were decorated with traditional, seamed mats and other Zulu and Tsonga gears.

The walls along the staircase were decorated with pictures of every single child that had ever lived in this house; it was no surprise that hers was not there, she was not particularly a happy teen at the time of her arrival.

She still remembered her way around the house, the rooms upstairs, the library, Alastair's old office, and the study; it was as if it was just yesterday she was here.

Images of her first day flashed before her eyes. She was only fifteen years old, weak and wary from living in the streets. She was in old rags and her face and entire body, as well as her hair, were covered in debris; she looked just like Chad the first time she saw him. Her eyes were bright with wonder at the sight of other children running around the house, she had seen some of their faces the first time she was thrown into the streets before they just vanished.

Alastair was not in any better shape; he had been sick from some sort of infection; he had even started to cough blood from time to time. When MJ started to get sick, he feared that he had infected her with whatever he was suffering from; thus he decided to get her some help from his wife. They later discovered that he had tuberculosis and had to get started on treatment immediately.

Alastair's body did not respond well to dust, in contrast to her own, which did not respond well to the cold; once she came into contact with cold water or anything of that sort, her body retaliated a few days and sometimes even weeks later.

MJ came to stop in front of a door and then opened it. It was her old room where she was treated by Alastair's wife. She had been shocked at first to discover that the woman was black and wondered how she had survived all those years in England; she was a victim of racism herself from her early childhood days, especially since she looked nothing like her brother. The woman reminded her of one of her nannies back home; she was sweet, kind, and serene.

She gave her this room, gave her new clothes, fed her, and helped her bath, before getting a doctor to check up on her.

The room had not changed a bit, Sandra had refused to give it to anyone else, saying that she was saving it for the girl who brought her husband back home. MJ stepped into the room and walked from corner to corner, tracing her fingers on the bare white wall, until she came to stand in front of the small bed with white linens and a big teddy bear.

She grabbed the teddy bear and sat down on the bed. She hugged the teddy tightly and sat farther against the wall, her feet dangling from the end of the small bed. She closed her eyes as she recalled the origin of the doll.

'This big baby is Hope; she is going to protect you from monsters at night when you sleep.' Alastair had said before he went off to get his treatment. She had spent an entire week cooped up in the room, not speaking to anyone. The big baby did not help with her nightmares at all, and up to this day, nothing did.

"Why don't you listen to us for once?" Sandra asked from the doorway. "First, you went to Cape Town even after I warned you not to go; second, you walk straight into the lion's den; third, you were almost hit by a car, and you did not say anything; fourth, you were kidn*pped and tortured, and Alastair and I had to find out from the media; and then, you escaped from the hospital, instead of staying to avoid your body turning against you. Look now." She spoke in an exasperated voice, concern flowing through her eyes. She sighed and stepped into the room, and then kneeled in front of the bed. "May Jeanette, speak to me." She said quietly. "What do I have to do to show you that I care?" She tried to reach for MJ's hand, but MJ drew her hand back. "I only want what's best for you, sweetie. You have been through a lot already; I would hate to see you suffer any more." She sighed and laid her head on the mattress, watching MJ staring into space.

"I'm trying." MJ managed to say in barely a whisper. "I try to live a normal life, but it gets harder and harder every day. Every time I take a step forward, something triggers inside of me and I find myself coiling back into my past." She swallowed and blinked her unshed tears. "I can't move on while my past is pressing down on me. I can't trust or love until I've gotten my revenge and found my redemption." The was a new sense of profound feelings as she spoke, she was not angry, she was calm and there was no edge to her voice; but there was no denying that she was battling with herself.

"Revenge is not everything, May Jeanette." Sandra said with a loud sigh.

MJ cast her a side glance, her face blank. "It is to me. I don't know how to deal with this new...things. I am not used to feelings, Sandra; I've only ever known anger and hatred, and now–" she cut off and sucked in a deep breath. "The thought of someone else loving me, scares me, because I don't know how to respond to that. Even the slightest act of kindness sets me off. It has always been easier for me to keep people out of my life, to be all alone. But I have met a great deal of people out there who are determined to," She paused, trying to come up with a word to best describe what she thought. "To break me. To break down my walls. And I can't let that happen, Sandra; it took me years to get to where I am today. I've been through so much pain; physically, mentally, spiritually, and–" she swallowed and closed her eyes. "And emotionally. I don't want to find myself in that situation again."

"You can't keep running from your demons forever, child." Sandra shook her head.

MJ cast her a challenging look. "What do you know about my demons?" She asked coldly.

"I don't know much about yours, but I know enough about my own to know that what you are going through is bad."

MJ rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I bet the worst thing you have been through was to lose your husband to the streets. I don't think you have any idea of what I've been through." She added begrudgingly.

"I take it, he never told you what happened, right?" Sandra asked, and was greeted by silence. She sighed and stood up, and then she took the teddy bear from MJ and put it aside before she held a hand out to MJ. "Come with me."

MJ stared at her sceptically. Alastair had never spoken about his marriage in detail, and he had never said anything to imply that Sandra had wronged or betrayed him in anyway. Sandra had never given MJ a reason to believe she was a traitor; she loved Alastair, and he loved her.

Sandra knew Alastair Cooper better than anyone else; she knew his friends and enemies, and although they had been separated; Sandra was involved in most of his life before he died. MJ refused to believe Sandra was innocent; she might not have killed her husband, but she knew who had done it.

"Fine." She muttered and allowed Sandra to help her up and out of the room.