All Of Me (Book 3 of Lastor Series)

Chapter 1: Jude

Quietly, I listened to Erik Lastor, the President of Lastor Pharmaceuticals, a subsidiary of Lastor International. Erik had flown in from Switzerland, the main office of Lastor Pharma, just for this meeting. He's spent the past hour ranting about my alleged meddling and underestimation of his competence. He was in his 50s and was the son of the late Sebastian Lastor, my great-grandfather's fourth child. Erik has been working for the family since his late twenties and when he was given his own company to serve as President to by my father twelve years ago, he had practically bent the knee and swore loyalty to him like a disciple to his lord. Now, his nostrils were flaring and veins were popping on the side of his neck and his face was red with rage because I had forced him into an early retirement and placed a new President, my distant cousin Geoffrey Turner, who was eager to put his mark on our family's history books. It helped that he wasn't one of my father's loyal dogs that did all his dirty work with no hesitation. Geoffrey may be grateful of what I had given him but he had plainly said he owed me nothing but his honesty and hard work. And that was enough for me. Erik couldn't be any less pleased.

"That boy has never even stepped foot in my company and you're letting him rule it?" he fumed, looking like he was a few breaths away from a seizure. "He doesn't have the right nor the experience to take my position! It's my son who should be taking over!"

The son of his in question was sitting across from me, looking so shameful and obviously wanted to be anywhere else but here. He hasn't said a word since they came in, not that his father even gave him a chance.

I was getting tired of listening to Erik and decided to cut him off from his tirade.

"That's enough," I said in a calm tone, piercing him with a firm glare. "Lastor Pharma was only assigned to you to manage, not own. Just because you own a small percentage of this company doesn't mean it gives you any authority to demand things from me. So please, Uncle, don't forget yourself."

"My son should be my successor. He's my heir," he said more calmly but still, the words were said through gritted teeth. "This Turner boy is an outsider. Born from the lower end of this family and only has a drop of our blood. He doesn't even bear our name. That's worse than a bastard!"

My jaw ticked at the last word. Bastard. I hated that word with a passion. It's the one word that has caused me and the people I loved so much pain.

I glanced at Erik Jr. but the man couldn't even meet my eyes. I scoffed, looking at his father. "Your son was expelled from Oxford for failing half of his classes on his first semester and the only reason why he was accepted in the first place was because he was a Lastor. How you came up with the notion that he'd be fit to run a company is beyond me. My bastard sister was a drug addicted insomniac for the entirety of her academic career and slept through most of her classes but even her worst was better than his best," I spat, noticing how Erik Jr. was hanging his head in shame. "And that lowborn Geoffrey Turner was fostered by my own grandfather when his parents died and has been serving the company for ten years. He also graduated at the top of his class, in Yale, Harvard, and Oxford. Accomplishments that your so called heir is nowhere near achieving." I shifted, rubbing the pad of my index finger against my jaw. "It seems to me that the lowborn and the bastards of this family are more worthy of the status and opportunities we give the spoiled heirs who are used to having everything handed to them on a silver platter. Tell me again, Uncle, what has junior here done to earn the right to even be in this room other than being the first born son of an heir?"

"He's worked for half of his life in Lastor Pharma," he countered. "I'm molding him to be fit to succeed me. You cannot rob him of what is rightfully his!"

"I'm not robbing him of anything," I said placidly, opening and closing my fist around the stress ball I was holding. I was itching to hit him in the face. "He is your heir, that is true. He has the right to take his seat in the board after you retire and I will not object but that is all that I can agree to and that is where his duties end. If I see where his strengths lies and what skills he has to offer the company, then I will gladly give him a position where he might flourish. But Lastor Pharma is Geoffrey's to manage, not own, but manage and that is the end of it."

"Turner doesn't even have a seat in the board," he bit out. "Why should he have more authority than someone who does? I made that company into what it is right now. I put us on top of the world's leading pharmaceutical companies and this is how you repay me for all the work I've done? Spitting on me by putting this outsider above me?"

I pressed my temples, my temper on its highest point. "All this whining will earn you nothing but my anger, Uncle. Quite frankly, I'm done with this nonsense."

He wouldn't bend.

"Anthony promised Lastor Pharma to me," he said fiercely, jabbing a finger to his chest.

"My father promised his whores his undying love and everything that their hearts desired every time he f****d them but where are they now?" I tilted my head, smiling faintly. "Rallying outside the building claiming that they bore him bastards and demanding for their inheritance."

I strained my ears and even though I was on the top floor, I swear I could still hear the protestors below screaming their demands through a megaphone. They've been at it all year and have even filed several lawsuits against my father, who was dead as far as anyone was concerned.

"How dare you mock me, boy," Erik hissed.

His pride was hurt. His ego bruised and broken. I understood that. But I was done being placating and calm. He had to be put in his place.

He was leaning over my table, clutching the edges of it and looking down at me. I didn't like the sight. Releasing my grip on the stress ball and placing it on my desk, I swung my arm, slapping him with the back of my hand. His son gasped. I wrapped his tie around his neck, pulling him closer while I remained seated.

"I can dare to do anything to you and it would be best if you don't forget that," I hissed in his ear. For an instant, I saw a flash of fear in his eyes. I smiled and let him go, getting to my feet. "Like I've said to all those people out there, unless you have a piece of paper that supports your claim, all you have are words from a dead man. Now, if you're quite done wasting my time with your petty complaints, I have other meetings to tend to."

I pressed a button on the intercom and almost immediately, Luis appeared at the door.

"Sir."

"Call Waldorf-Astoria and have them prepare for my Uncle's arrival."

"Yes, sir."

"No," Erik cut in, his eyes seething. "I'm flying back to Switzerland today. I have matters that need attention."

I smiled. "As you wish," I said, turning to Luis. "A car, then. To take him to the tarmac."

"Yes, Mr. Lastor," Luis said before stepping out of the room.

I held out a hand to Erik. "I will be looking forward to having your son take his seat in the board. I'll personally make sure he is treated well."

His courtesy was still above his fury and he took my hand, shaking it firmly. "Don't bother with your pretty words. I, of all people, know my son is a fool," he spat, casting his son a look of disdain. "You, on the other hand, are not. Anthony would be proud that his heir is as unyielding and merciless as he is," he said but the complimentary words were practically dipped in acid.

I smiled, tightening my grip on his hand. "Was. As he was."

He pursed his lips, a trickle of blood dribbling on his chin. "Of course."

He gave his son a lingering look before quietly storming out of my office, clutching a cloth to his mouth while his son remained seated, fidgeting uncomfortably. I looked at him, dressed in an ill fitting suit that choked his fat body tightly while he bit his nails anxiously, refusing to meet my eyes. He had taken after his mother, a plump Swiss socialite who had bouts of social anxiety and was obsessed with her image. I heard there was one instance that a magazine had made an article mocking her for her sudden weight gain and she had her father buy the company and made the editors praise her at every issue.

"You look miserable. What are you even doing here?"

Erik Jr. shifted uncomfortably. "Father wants me to prove my worth, at least he hopes I would," he said, his words laced with a thick Swiss accent.

I sat down, eyeing him intently. He immediately lowered his head as if he feared I would attack him. "Do you have your resume with you?"

He nodded, leaning down to pick up the shiny briefcase by his feet. He flustered to open it and ended up spilling the contents all over the place.

I pressed my temple, my patience long gone. "Perhaps we can do this another time, when you're actually prepared."

He flushed, his ears turning a bright red. "I don't think Father would be pleased with... with that."

I arched a brow. "I just took away your father's life's work and effectively diminished his authority in the family. Trust me, pleasing him isn't even near the things I bother to care for."

He pursed his lips, looking helpless. "Please don't send me back to Switzerland."

"Why not? You don't belong here and I'm certain you don't even want to be here at all."

"No, no. I do. I want to be here," he said desperately. "Just give me a chance to prove my worth to you. I'll work hard. I'll be loyal. I won't disappoint you."

I narrowed my eyes, seeing the tragic sight of someone who had been told he was useless all his life. I cursed the unshakeable sympathy that sparked within me.

"Give me your resume," I ordered, holding out my hand.

He gingerly got to his feet, handing me the crumpled piece of paper that was supposed to contain a summary of his value as a person and an asset. Maybe I had been spoiled by my sister's impressive caliber and I was aware it would be unreasonable to hold other people to the same standard but I knew I was wasting my time the moment I saw that he had written everything by hand.

"I had to rewrite it on the plane," he said sheepishly.

I rolled my eyes and started reading his resume. I had to consciously remind myself that Angel wasn't here and I couldn't expect anyone to possibly equal her or come near her, but it was just disgraceful how inadequate and useless majority of the heirs in our generation, and the new, were. Ever since I was officially inducted as Head of our family and Angel was stripped of her rank as second seat and my right hand, certain council members had thrown their heirs at me in an attempt to take her place. Erik was the fifth such offering and he was, by far, the most unqualified. It was insulting that he was being offered to me in the first place. As if he could be my equal.

I lifted my gaze, regarding him with no prejudice despite the facts. He was the same age as my sister, surprisingly since he looked and acted much younger. He didn't even look like a Lastor other than his messy auburn hair.

"You went to Institut Le Roche for high school, is that right?" I said.

"Yes."

"Angel went there too, my sister," I replied, reminding myself again to stop clinging onto her. She was gone.

"Yes. We didn't interact very much but we did share the same classes. I don't think she noticed though but I do remember that she was a remarkable student."

I arched a brow, holding back the urge to laugh. "My sister was the worst student and I pity anyone who had to teach her. She thought her teachers were incompetent idiots and was known to ridicule them when given an opportunity."

"She was our class valedictorian."

I shrugged. "Her ego always kept her motivated to be the best everything she did." I placed the paper back on the table and looked at him. "Aside from the competitive academic curriculum, Roche is known as a reformatory school for delinquents and was recently under scrutiny when it was discovered that they mixed sedatives in the students' meals as a way to keep them under control. Riots, fires, and violent pranks are common in campus, if I remember correctly, and the majority of the student population has committed a crime, which has earned the school a reputation for accepting the unwanted ones." I leaned on the table, clasping my hands together. "What on Earth did you do to be sent there, Erik?"

His eyes were shifting rapidly. "Do... do we have talk about that?"

"Not necessarily but this is an interview and if I'm to employ you, I must have at least an idea of your personality. Being a Roche alumnus is a red flag, if I'm being honest."

He adjusted his suit, fidgeting in obvious discomfort. "Father doesn't like it when I talk about it."

"Your father isn't here, Erik. Be an adult and speak for yourself."

He sighed. "I... I had... s****l relations."

I frowned. "Angel was sent there due to her troubles with the law and expulsion from three schools within the span of two months, after she was released from juvenile hall. You're telling me all you did was have s*x?"

"With a boy."

I tilted my head. "You're gay."

He shook his head vigorously. "No, I'm not."

I stared at him and he just sat quietly, almost in tears. "You reek of shame, brother."

"I'm not gay," he insisted, his voice quivering.

"I don't care what you are, Erik. But if you cry in front of me, I will have to send you back to Switzerland. I have no use for a spineless employee."

He sniffled, wiping his face with an arm. The man was useless. His resume was hopeless. And I wouldn't take him as my right hand even if I was desperate, and I was. But he was family and as much as I disapproved of it, he had a right to be here, even though he didn't belong in this world.

I leaned back against my seat, crossing my legs. "The board is comprised with men and women worse than your father and they will tear you apart if you show them even the slightest sign of weakness. We may be family but we are a business first of all. I won't tolerate incompetence and unprofessional behavior. Stop biting your nails." He yanked his hand down and placed it on his lap. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "An apartment has been furnished to your reference and your belongings have been cared for. The board meets once a month, usually on the first week. No later than the second week. Your duties are simple: show up and try to learn something. Should be easy enough."

"That... that is all?" he asked.

"For now. When I've considered where you fit best, I'll assign you to a department."

"And what do you want me to do during the rest of the month?"

I gave him a flat look. "I don't know, Erik. I'm not your f*****g babysitter." He flushed and blurted out an apology. I rolled my eyes. "Leave."

When the door closed at his exit, I spun my chair to face the floor-to-ceiling window behind me, letting out a heavy breath as I loosened my tie. My lapse of control over my temper nagged at me. I knew Lord Robert would probably use it as ammunition for the coup he's been steadily planning. I may be sitting on the throne now but I still had so much to prove. Slapping people around wouldn't gain me anyone's respect.

There was a knock at the door and I muttered a quick approval to enter as I turned my chair around.

"I have some documents that need your signature and a revision of the operational budgets that need your approval," Keith, my second assistant, said as he came to my table, placing a thick stack of folders in front of me. "I've also emailed the reports and financial statements you asked for."

"I'll get to those later," I said, rubbing my temples, the throbbing in my head making me grimace. "Where's Luis?" He entered instantly, as if he was waiting for me to say his name. "What's my next meeting?"

"A lunch with Mr. Helsing and Mr. Jenkins," he replied. "They're in the penthouse. Conference Room 1."

I nodded, getting up and heading to my private elevator. I rode up to the penthouse, finding the wait staff laying out a variety of dishes on the table while Helsing and Benjamin were seated on opposite sides.

"Clear the room," I ordered as I took my seat. The staff exited the room and I sighed, loosening my tie. "Begin."

Benjamin stood, pulling up a series of slides on the projector that showed the progress we've made on our continued efforts to dismantle Father's shadow network and businesses. He relayed Father's officers were displaying resistance, which was expected, and those they've captured had refused to provide any actionable intel.

I was getting frustrated chasing ghosts and pointless leads. He was out there and I needed to find him before he decided to come to me. They always said being visited by the dead in your dreams was bad omen. What more being visited by the living dead in real life? Nearly a year after his presumed death, he still hadn't done anything nor has he raised himself from the grave. The intel we've managed to corroborate told us he was destabilized and, through our interference, has struggled to create a force that can match up to ours but I knew my father. All it would take was one single window of opportunity and he could bring us down to a pile of debris.

"I have been planting some ears on the ground," Helsing said as he dug into the pile of food on his plate. "A team encountered a complication while they were doing surveillance on one of Anthony's known associates in Russia."

My brows furrowed. "What complication?"

He took a swig of juice from the pitcher, wiping his napkin over his mouth. "Kitten's arms operation in the region have been in conflict with the mark."

"Has she gone in?"

He shook his head, biting onto a piece of garlic bread. "One of her adviser's have been handling it but there's been talk of some of their local lieutenants joining forces with the other side and push her out of the region. Knowing her, she's gonna want to make a point. In person."

I sighed, rubbing my jaw. "How valuable is the mark?"

"He's one of kitten's few competitors in Eastern Europe's arms trafficking market but he also dabbles in other markets. He provides both goods and services so if Anthony's doing something, he's gotta be his main supplier for weapons and whatnot. If kitten kills him, Anthony's operation may be stunted for a bit but not nearly enough to be detrimental in the long haul. We'll have the most losses, intelligence wise."

"Do we still have a team on location?" He nodded, chewing loudly. "Can they extract the mark without attracting her attention?"

He took another swig from the pitcher, sighing in satisfaction as he shook his head. "Both sides have been on high alert since the conflict started. We'll need a bloody cavalry to make an extraction and the estimated loss in man power would still be high. Also, it will be pretty loud."

I gritted my teeth, trying to think of a way around the obstacles. "Georgiana has been shadowing my sister, yes?"

"Yes. Lady Georgiana is often accompanying Miss Lastor in business related trips," Benjamin replied. "As per protocol, their individual security details notify us of a pending travel but they only send the notification on the day of so there can't be any way to send an advance team or provide additional security. I suspect it is done under Miss Lastor's command."

I chuckled lightly. "She does love that trick."

He let out a long suffering sigh. "I've made a request to Miss Lastor to be more transparent in her itinerary, especially with her recent travels to countries with existing civil unrest, but she has been dismissive."

"I'll speak to Frederick about reasoning with her," I said, tapping my fingers on the table. "Also to Georgiana about keeping Angel away from Russia, though I can't imagine her being able to handle my sister."

Helsing snorted. "Best leave kitten untouched. She has an uncanny ability to sniff out bullshit."

"Who's useful for us in Russia?" I directed to Benjamin.

"Amongst the highest ranking, President Molchalin," he answered, clearing his throat. "Though it is known within Prime Minister Krymov's inner circle that he and Miss Lastor are friendly."

I cursed inwardly. "How the hell did she manage that in less than a year?"

"Their relationship has existed since the early 2000s through her friendship with the Prime Minister's son, Mikhail. They were classmates in high school. It's my speculation that she was an integral part of the Prime Minister's success in his 2004 and 2008 presidential campaigns. I suppose after this term, he will run for president in the next election."

I rolled my eyes. "So she basically owns him." I sighed, dragging my palm down my face. "Formulate a plan for an extraction of the mark at the soonest possible time. If you see any indication my sister will use Krymov, withdraw. If she decides to go in with her own forces, find a way to blend in."

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me again why we're not using kitten?" Helsing whined. "At this point, she's turned from a wasted resource to a massive pain in the arse."

"She paid for two years of freedom. My wife and Georgiana, as her protege, are the only ones in our family she has allowed to be in contact with her. It's stipulated in our agreement that if anyone else contacts her, she will be granted an additional six months," I answered, clenching my jaw in displeasure. "And even she were here, I doubt she'd provide support to my hunt of our father."

"Can't you just... order her?"

"I'd rather not incur her wrath when I can avoid it," I muttered flatly.

He snorted. "Aye. I hear ya."

There was a knock at the door and I gave my approval to enter. Luis stepped inside, coming to my side.

"You have a one o'clock flight to Montreal," he said beside my ear.

I checked my watch, seeing that it was nearly one. "I'm due for a meeting," I said, standing and Benjamin followed suit while Helsing kept eating. "Keep me updated. Helsing, walk with me."

"Can I bring my plate?"

I rolled my eyes. "Keep it away from me," I said, heading out of the room with him lagging behind. I stopped Luis when he was about to follow me into the elevator, fixing my tie as the doors closed. "I've worked Erik Lastor. Put a tail on him, his son also."

"Aye," he replied through a mouthful of food.

I cringed inwardly when sauce dripped on his shirt and he licked it off. "And how's Connor's side?"

"Oh, he's just going around conning people the way he always does," he muttered dryly. "I made a detailed report on his findings. The drive's in my back pocket."

I rolled my eyes, reaching into his pocket to take the drive and finding dried gum stuck to it. I swallowed the urge to gag. "Helsing, I pay you a small fortune for your services. Please, for the love of God, use at least a portion of it for your grooming."

He sniffed at his armpit, pulling a face. "My bad."

The doors slid open to my office and I tugged my pocket square loose, tossing it to him. "And mind your etiquette. Watching you eat is near unbearable."

He snickered as I stepped out of the lift. "You need to talk to your sister. You're getting near unbearable these days."

**********

For the rest of the day, I tended to my duties in a well-practiced manner with a quick and thorough finality that left no room for bargain and kept my temper constantly in check. Still, I could only do so much in a span of twenty four hours and as much as I tried to push it away, the nagging voice at the back of my mind kept reminding me that I was going to fail. That it still isn't enough and I have to do more. That I was going to disgrace my family. That I was still just a boy who had no idea what he was doing.

For the most part, I pretended it wasn't there. The uncertainty. The fear. The panic. But when I came home and found my wife sitting on the floor of our bedroom with wallpaper samples and vision boards for our daughter's nursery, all of those things became worse because I could accept that I was just an impostor playing the role of a man of power and was completely out of his depth but this? Being a father? Being a husband? I could not accept being anything less than what they deserved.

You're just like him, the voice in my head whispered. I ignored it and plastered a smile on my face.

I knocked on the door and she lifted her head. "Oh, welcome home," she greeted, holding up two similar looking square cloths. "Which one do you like for the carpet?"

"Cherie, you're designing a nursery. Not a palace," I teased as I entered the room.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, this house is practically a palace so..."

I chuckled, getting on the floor and kissing her. She groaned softly, placing her hands on the collar of my shirt and pulling me closer to her. I sighed as a sense of peace filled me and pushed away all my worries. I was home and nothing else mattered. For now.

I strayed my lips from hers, bending down to kiss her stomach. "Bonjour, petite fleur," I murmured. (Hello, little flower.)

Stella sighed, slipping her fingers into my hair. "She's gonna come out rambling French, isn't she?"

I chuckled, lifting my head. "Your French has gotten better, though your accent needs work."

She slapped my shoulder playfully and I was about to kiss her again when she moved to the side. "Before I forget, here's the sonogram from today."

She held up her phone for me to see. A video was playing with the camera focused on the ultrasound monitor, the fast thumping of our daughter's heartbeat filling my ears. The underlying fear of this child growing up becoming like me rose. Or worse, know the kind of pain my sister and I were subjected to our whole lives. Either one made me want to tear the world apart and make it anew for her.

"What's wrong?" Stella asked, cradling my face in her hands.

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head. "I just... I just wish I was here more often."

She frowned, kissing me softly. "You're doing your best."

I chuckled humorlessly. "Exactly. This is my best but it's not enough." I sighed, looking at the video again. "She deserves more and so do you."

"Don't be like that," she said firmly. "We love you and I'm so, so proud of you. You have to know that."

I shook my head, pulling her to me and burying my face in hair. Closing my eyes, I reminded myself that these were the sacrifices that came with being who I was. My mother had warned me that marrying someone I loved would cause me more pain than marrying someone I didn't care about. I hadn't fully understood what she meant then but when Stella became pregnant, I finally did.

Missing all these moments. All these milestones. All these memories. All these emergencies. All these things that a father should be around for. They hurt because as much as I wanted to be with them every moment of the day, I couldn't. I was Jude Lastor after all and more than ever, I hated that fact.

"Angel called today," Stella murmured.

They've been speaking on the phone almost every week since Angel left and Stella even framed the pictures she sent of their travels in the house. After finishing their assignment in Yemen, they spent a month traveling all over Africa before starting a new assignment. They've been in Lebanon for the past two months helping refugees. I had fired the employees in the outreach program who were responsible for approving her application to be assigned in the middle of a f*****g war zone of all places and the board had demanded for her to return after it was reported that the hospital their mission was stationed in was attacked by a suicide bomber. It was luck that she hadn't been in the building during the attack and was actually at the border between Lebanon and Syria tending to newly arrived refugees but instead of being scared for her life, it only strengthened her resolve. Even when terrorist groups made a threat to kidnap her, all she did was laugh and challenge them to try.

She was brave. Too brave for her own good. It didn't help that Rick was hell bent on helping the poor and the broken as much as my sister was. Any doubts of their compatibility on my mind have been washed away and I was convinced they were satisfied dying for a good cause. The only consolation in this was that at least she kept her bodyguards but, according to their reports, it didn't stop her from purposely getting into life threatening situations.

"Is she coming back?" I asked.

Stella gave me a rueful smile. "She said they might extend their assignment for another month or two. There's a shortage of volunteers."

"Because no one should be there. It's a war zone. But does she care? No. Knowing her, it probably just adds to the excitement."

"She's just trying to make a difference, Jude."

I scoffed, getting off the floor and helping her up. "All she's doing is march to an early death."

"You should be proud," she pressed, following me into the closet. "You raised a kind and selfless woman."

"I didn't raise her to become a martyr," I spat as I stripped my jacket off and unbuttoned my shirt.

"She's doing something good, Jude. Can't you see that?"

"All I see whenever I watch the news are dead bodies and chaos!"

She drew back at my harsh tone and I took a deep breath before I lost my patience with this repetitive argument. She constantly defended Angel that sometimes it seemed she married the wrong Lastor sibling. Whatever peace I had felt was gone and was replaced by the dormant rage that laid inside me.

"It scares me to death thinking that someday I might turn the news on and find out one of those dead bodies is my sister," I said, shaking my head at the grim image that my mind conjured.

Stella's face softened in understanding. "She's being guarded day and night. Nothing can harm her."

"That's not enough."

"She's helping people, Jude. The least we can do is support her."

"I need her help." I turned to look at her, hating the tears in my eyes. "I'm proud of the things she's doing, I really am. But I can't pretend that I'm happy about it. I can't pretend that I'm glad that she is constantly in danger. I can't pretend that I'm not scared that she might die helping those people. I can't pretend that I'm okay without her with me. I just can't. Her place is supposed to be here. Beside me. Ruling with me. Helping me make decisions. Watching my back. Being my right hand. My sanity and sense. Maybe that's selfish of me to ask but leaving me when I needed her the most was selfish of her too." I let out a harsh breath, ripping my shirt off and throwing it to the floor. "I'm not supposed to be alone in this."

"You're not alone," Stella whispered, closing the distance between us and taking my arms, wrapping them around her. "I'm here. Lily's here." She pressed a hand on her belly. "You're not alone, Jude."

I placed my hand on top of hers, the dull aching in my chest throbbing at the feel of Lily kicking against my touch. She's been kicking a lot these days. She was so impatient, probably wanting to explore the world already. I dreaded the thought of her following in the footsteps of her fearless, stubborn, and adventurous aunt. The moment Angel learned how to walk, she was getting into all sorts of trouble and always somehow escaped the watch of her nannies and guard. When I started first grade, she was still too young to understand that I would come back later in the day and would try to come find me. There was even an incident that she nearly fell off the balcony of her bedroom trying to sneak out. She could have broken her neck if the gardener tending to the bushes nearby didn't see her clinging onto the balustrade.

This has been the longest that I had gone without seeing her since she was born. Even during the time that she refused to speak to me for four years, I still saw her at least once a month for charity events and even though she wouldn't speak to me, I still nagged her constantly, inwardly hoping she would get angry enough to tell me off. But this time, she was just gone. Out of my reach.

I wanted things to go back the way they were before and she wanted me to be the person she swore her life to. But things were too broken and I was far from the man she knew. I could pretend with the world, with Stella, but with Angel, she knew me too well. She saw through me too easily and as much as I needed her beside me, I knew it was for the best that she was far from me. If only knowing made it easier to be without half of me.

I slipped my hand off Stella's belly and took a step back, heading out of the closet. "I have some work to do."

"I had them put away your dinner. Do you want me to bring it up to you?" she offered.

"No. I'll eat later," I said, going into the bathroom and locking the door behind me.

"Jude," Stella called, twisting the door knob. "You can't keep shutting me out. It's not fair to me, or you."

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. "We're okay," I said to myself, curling my hands into fists. "We're okay."

I kept repeating those words but no matter how many times I did, it didn't soothe me the way it always did whenever Angel used to say them back to me. I went to the sink, taking out a bottle of aspirin from the drawer. I popped the bottle open, taking two pills on my palm and tossing them in my mouth. I bent down to the faucet to chase the pills with water but when I did, the room blurred and the floor swayed. I clutched the sink as my head grew heavy and sharp pain burst from my stomach. Black spots filled my vision, threatening to take away my consciousness. I cursed when I remembered I haven't eaten anything in three days.