PRIME
1501 Words
The wind trespassed sweeping through the neatly carved edges of the Bells-gate estate. Fountains made of marble sparkled beneath the night glow, it seemed as though the water was holding its breath because of its calm and cold nature.
The edifice stood like a sculpture screaming glory, royalty at its highest peak level, regal and above all the quiet peace that dwelled around it. Within its beauty and immeasurable elegance, the common trade were secrets.
The private library was an alter to behold, built with extravagance, the room wall wore Luxurious wood panel designs which towered very high, decorated with realistic arts, truly a master pieces.
A Riedel vinum decanter laid on the side desk opposite two leather armchairs that looked like they had maintained that position for years.
Hanging above was a silver chandelier that shone light over the place especially on the hand knotted rug. One could feel cold run through their spine just for stepping on th
Mike Bells Gate stood by the window, gazing out at the moonlit garden with a tumbler of dark liquor in his hand. As he turned around the diamond on his cufflink caught the light instantly.
The light revealed a young Richard who stayed close to the center of the room, anyone could tell something was bothering him, it was as if the weight of the room's heritage threatened to overwhelm him.
His voice finally broke the silence.
"You want to give me all these properties... just to marry your daughter?" He asked, with a sharp tone; his eyebrows raised in disbelief.
"Your conclusion is outrageous, I must say Mike." He added.
Mike gave no reaction, as if he had expected the outburst.
His voice, came in, calm, weary, and slightly bothered.
"My daughter needs protection, Richard. Sarah is all I have. My only child."
Richard's gaze increasingly narrowed, his polished black shoes shifting slightly on the rug. "And your wife?"
Mike chuckled, low and bitter. He finally turned, his eyes glassy.
"My wife's in love with my fortune. She's waiting for my downfall to come so she can devour what's left. She won't protect Sarah. She won't protect anything but her place at the table."
He walked to the antique liquor cabinet, poured another glass with steady hands.
"I've made mistakes," he continued, voice now harder. "Crimes. Enough to put me away for life. When the investigations catch up with me, they'll seize everything I've built. The estate, the accounts in Zurich, the artwork, the vault in Dubai. All of it."
Richard said nothing.
Mike’s bulging eyes traced the gold-leaf ceiling above them, the silent luxury of a man who had too much and was close to losing everything.
The liquor in his left hand remained untouched, He walked slowly toward Richard and stopped.
"You're the only one I can trust now. Your father... he was my brother in all but blood. I trusted him with my life. And now, I'm trusting you with hers."
Richard's jaw tightened. "Mike... I love someone else."
Mike stopped in his tracks. His voice turned quiet, raw.
"I have no interest in creating a love story between the both of you, all I'm asking of you is to protect her, let her hide under your wings.Let her carry your child. Let him inherit everything, before the system tears it all away."
A long pause settled between them. The fireplace flickered with a faint hiss.
Richard's voice was low, almost choked. "You sold your companies?"
Mike nodded once.
"You created a new bank account?"
"I did," he said. "And everything's already in His name."
Richard's mouth opened slightly, stunned. "You what, whose name?"
Mike stepped closer, his eyes bloodshot but unwavering.
"Your future son with Sarah, it's done. No court can touch what I no longer legally own. Through you, she'll inherit it all. This estate. The offshore accounts. The diamonds. The family legacy."
The sound of thunder was inaudible rebelled by the estate's thick walls and the lightening reflected against the windows.
Richard ran a hand through his black well-caved hair, causing a little ruckus on it, the weight of generations pressing down on him. The intertwining of conscience, fidelity and authority was like a luxurious fiber.
"God help me," he prayed under his breath. "What have you dragged me into, there is more to all of this and you know this Mike."
Mike emptied his glass in one swallow, then placed it carefully on the table.
"My crosses are no longer mine to carry," he said. "They're yours now Richard."
*******
The rain fell softly against the windows of Mike's private library. A melodious whisper that could hardly break the silence suspended in the room.
Sarah stood by the fireplace looking disturbed not wanting to wait any longer to start the ill conversation with her father.
"I don't want to marry Richard," she said, soft spoken. "I don't want that life. I love someone else."
Mike quietly sat in his chair, his aged palms interwined together. His eyes, though they seemed weak and tired, remained piercing, too sharp for a man with months left before prison would devour him.
"Love, love, love...stop! Richard is the only person who can help us now, especially our generation," he said plainly, as if the words themselves weren't a life sentence.
Sarah shifted, anger blazing behind her eyes. "Why does it have to be marriage? Why not wait? I'll hold everything until I have a child with Aaron. I can protect what's ours."
Mike hissed, the whole situation was sad and painful alone and the hope he saw in his daughter's eyes added to it.
"Sarah, you have been with me for a long time and I expect that you should have learnt certain things from me, why do you thing I taught you how to play chess? Listen the world never plays fair, only the smart ones win."
She clenched her fist, her father was right, they had gone through so much lately even from people they thought loved them, everyone had turned their back on them. "Then let me fight. I can do it, Dad.
I can protect what you've built. I can wait until you're back."
He shook his head slowly. "There's no assurance I'm coming back, Sarah. None. These people'll come for me. And if they don't find what they're looking for... they'll come for you."
Sarah swallowed hard. She hated how calm he sounded. As if everything had already been decided.
"We can't trust Richard," she whispered.
Mike nodded.
"I know, neither can you trust Aaron. That's why Richard only has access to the visual account. He can only see what's there, but he cannot touch even a penny of it. That part stays with you. You hold the code."
"Then why give him anything at all?" she snapped.
"Because putting it under your name would paint a target on your back, the banks would expose you to the government. He's a shield, Sarah. That's all. A necessary and most trusted one."
Sarah made no utterance, her silence was enough. No preparation to the new world she was about to start, having no other option left than to walk into an obvious hell.
Her eyes fell, the dim glow caught the drop that ran from her cheeks.
In a moment, Mike's voice eased.
"I've already given your son a name."
Her head snapped up. "You assume I'll have a son?"
A slight grin met his lips.
"Yes."
"I had always had my suspicions, you might have some misogynistic traits, and I guess I wasn't wrong, so bold of you to think my first child would be a boy." She said with a sarcastic grin, despite herself.
"Fully aware, apart from being polygamous in nature, I think every man is misogynistic by nature too." he replied.
"Don't you think that is too much to say especially for a man that never cheated on his wife, even with her ill character, treated his daughter like a princess and never acted like he needed a son ."
He chuckled. "You really think highly of me Sarah and I like it."
She spanned the room gently as he dipped into a drawer and drew out a bent piece of cream-colored paper. You could tell it had been designed with utmost care and luxury. He handed it over to her.
Revealing it, she stared at the name for a long time, feeling in her mind the mass of every syllable.
Mike watched her closely. "He'll be more than a name, Sarah. He'll be a legacy. Your legacy."
She remained quiet, as if she was examining a baby in her arms.
Her fingers traced the lettering, not as a daughter abiding by her father's decision, but now as a woman beginning to understand the cost of inheritance and its values.
Outside, the rain continued its mild and quiet fall, washing the sins of the world.
Finally, Sarah read out the name printed in fine, deliberate ink:
Leonard Marcel Kendrick.
- Writer
