Wealth (free and completed)

Chapter 17 - Memories of Murder

Valerie

1995

It was an ordinary day. The day before the crash, my parents were just starting to reconcile after a week of fighting.

They had tried to hide it from me, but I knew from my mother’s red-rimmed eyes and the creases on my father’s forehead that something was wrong. I was only able to hear a little bit of their heated conversation.

“Why haven’t you told me about it, Rowena? Or should I say, Laura? I thought that that chapter of your life was over. Why do I need to keep on being blindsided? Why can’t you tell me everything?”

For a little while, the rest of their words were muffled. I had heard “daughter,” “lovers,” and a few more random words that did not make sense to me.

“Lawrence, please.”

There was quiet again. Then, I heard the sounds of moaning and grunting. It felt wrong to keep on listening, so I retreated to my Discman. My parents could sometimes get too preoccupied with each other, with their love and hate, that they would forget I was even there.

They often thought I wouldn’t have to lack for anything because I was given all the pocket money I needed. I had all the best clothes. I went to the best schools. I even had boys starting to notice me, but I hadn’t had a boyfriend yet.

Fourteen.

I thought I would continue to have everything.

In the days leading to the accident, my parents seemed to be in a good mood. We were going on a retreat to a luxurious hotel over the mountains. My dad wasn’t too upset that the owner used to be my mother’s producer and suspected lover. He wasn't upset that many celebrities would be there. She seemed to have a string of lovers and dodgy acquaintances you would rather not be associated with. They didn’t discuss these things with me, but of course, I read magazines. I was not supposed to read anything with my mom on it, but they gave me enough money that I could buy anything I wanted. They never really checked. I was a self-starter. I did my homework and created my own boundaries as if I was my own adult guardian.

“So, what do you think, Val? Are you excited?” Dad asked.

I shrugged. Would it really make a difference? I was always inside my room, anyway. Being a former actress’s daughter, people expected that I would have it easy in high school. So far, it had been terrible. I could not find a clique to that I truly belonged. The popular girls didn’t want someone too serious. The geeks didn’t like that I looked and dressed like the popular girls.

“It will be great, Val!” Mom insisted, using her most cheerful voice.

“I guess,” I muttered.

I had brought a few paperbacks and my Discman, of course. If things got a little uncomfortable, I could simply hide in my room. Since I was ten years old, my parents booked separate rooms for me. I was used to it: the coldness and lack of personality of each room and the family outings that didn't feel like they included me.

The hotel was beautiful, although it reminded me of Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. It was large and isolated. Of course, we went in when the hotel was packed and activities were in full swing. At least we were not coming in as caretakers. I had sniggered at my own joke.

I was made to settle in my room for a little while to get dressed and ready for dinner. I chose a light purple gown that worked well with my pale-blonde hair. My mother had taken to dyeing her hair a brighter blond. Sometimes, she even dyed her hair brown or black to simply separate herself from her old actress identity. It was a time she was both ashamed and proud of. Sometimes, I felt like she was separating herself from me, too.

In the hotel restaurant, several vaguely familiar faces were milling about. I was not surprised that Mr. Theodore Sangster was there with his adopted children: two boys and a girl. I had seen them around school, but they were a year or two ahead.

While eating with my parents, I noticed many things. My mother kept on glancing at Mr. Sangster’s table. He, in turn, would glance back whenever he thought nobody was looking. At some point, we locked eyes. I thought he would be like some of the creepy men my mother associated with. However, he simply smiled at me. Kindly. He looked more than a decade older than both my parents. Single. Billionaire.

It was difficult for my eyes not to wander. My parents were again shutting me down, talking as if they were the only two people in the world. While picking at my carbonara with my fork, my eyes flicked to various parts of the restaurant.

Everyone was busy with their own conversations. Their own meals. With families. Lovers. One table, in particular, caught my eye – not because it was fancier than the rest and not because the people there were famous. A boy about my age was there watching me intently. He had black hair and light-colored eyes – blue or green –but I could not be sure from where I was seated. He was watching me solemnly.

I felt like I knew him. I knew that face.

The memory was cut off, though, and soon I was back in the car during the accident.

“Laura, something’s wrong,” my dad said anxiously.

“What is it?”

“I think something’s wrong with the car. Maybe someone has fiddled with it.”

“You and your imagination again!”

“No, I’m serious.”

Not long after that, they were both dead.

***

2005

It was morning. I realized that Janus was still in the room. I could feel the tension in his body, as he prepared himself to leave without getting seen.

“Stay awhile,” I murmured, reaching out for him.

“Are you kidding?”

“Joseph leaves at around 7. Rafael and Emilie may stay back a little. They wake up late.”’

“I need to be at work early, too.”

“You’ve never been late. Stay awhile.”

He seemed conflicted and tempted. So, I pulled him towards me to snuggle close and kissed him on the mouth. As his arms wrapped around me, I could feel him getting more comfortable. Oh, if only we could live openly like this.

“Y-you seem stronger,” he observed.

I tensed. Did Janus realize that I could roll more easily on my side now? Had he noticed a few telltale changes?

“I think it might be the physical therapy,” I said.

“I want to stay here so badly, but I need to go,” Janus said.

I wondered if he was disturbed by the changes he perceived in me.

“Stay, please,” I begged, my mind still full of the painful memories. I had fallen for Janus, but I felt like I was using him by making him stay to get rid of my thoughts.

He relented a little, watching me with those grey eyes. They could be cold and piercing, but they could also be the most beautiful pair to get lost in. I saw a tenderness in them now. It made me feel bold, placing my hand on the growing bulge between his legs, showing through his boxers. I cupped him, and he groaned.

“You’ve really decided on making me late today,” he said, but he was smiling, and his eyes were glazed with desire. I slipped one warm hand into his boxers, wrapping my fingers around his c**k and moving them up and down. He groaned a protest.

“I will be faster than you want me to be if you don’t stop,” he panted. So, I reluctantly let go of him as he placed his body between my parted thighs.

As he lifted my nightgown to reveal my bare breast, Janus had my comfort and pleasure in mind. He knew what I wanted that first time, and he remembered. He licked my breasts around my n*****s, careful not to graze the tips. He knew it was sweet torture. So, he did it slowly, no longer caring about the time. Then, he pulled at my n*****s with his mouth and sucked greedily. His hot tongue laved my breast in between, sucking as if to comfort, but it did the opposite – blazing my desire. As he continued feasting on me, I felt my body responding in ways I couldn’t understand. My hips were moving up and down, craving him. Craving his touch. The feeling of him inside me.

Janus might have felt the change between my legs. He knew I needed to be touched. So, he did, pulling my panty down in one sweeping motion. Then, he used a finger to rub my c**t. Gentle strokes. Then, hard. Afterward, he did the unexpected, moving his body down until his mouth was on my core. He stroked my nub with his tongue. Gently. Then, urgently, while two fingers slipped in and out of my folds. The double onslaught was too much, making me feel like breaking. Was he trying to prove something? That I could break even if he focused between my legs? Perhaps. Janus was a man who loved a good challenge at work. Now, he had me.

I panted. We often made love in silence in the dark of night. It was the first time we were doing it in the mansion in the morning when people were home and possibly awake. But I had lost all inhibition and gave in to my passion. I bit my lips to calm down the soft mewls that escaped them. My hands gripped the pillow under my head. I closed my eyes to feel more – to savor the sensations.

“Janus,” I moaned, not really knowing what I wanted to tell him. Not knowing how to react to the eroticism of his head moving between my thighs.

Seeing that I was wet and hot, he stopped his torture only to plunge into me fully. It wasn’t like Janus, but he had let go of his control. His thrusts were more urgent. It was as if he had forgotten about my spine. He held my buttocks up as he continued to pound into me. Our eyes locked the whole time.

It was far more intimate than watching body parts during s*x. I saw the changes in his face, the flush, the heavy-lidded eyes, the sweat on his forehead. When his mouth descended on mine, I tasted myself. I felt locked in with him, so fused that I forgot about my back. As he pushed deeper into me, my walls clenched around him. Feeling him. Becoming one with him. Then, when my orgasm racked my body, I found my back arching as it never had before.

If Janus had noticed, he probably was too far gone – nearing his completion. So, he continued to thrust until he was spent and until the dam broke in me over and over again.

After it all, he quietly disengaged from me. It seemed that he felt something – the difference. My secret.

“A-are you going now?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Janus felt it. I knew then.

“Your back. I felt your back rise on its own. Are you paralyzed at all, Valerie?”

When he rose to look at me, I felt a strange kind of shame. I had just made love with this man, but I covered my body with my nightgown. He was watching me with those piercing eyes, suspicious this time.

“I am, Janus.”

“What did I feel then?”

“I- I started improving. My back is getting better, according to my therapist.”

“How come you never told me? How long has it been?”

“A few years,” I choked out.

“So, can you walk or not?”

I had heard him talk with that hard-edged voice, but never to me. Never. Until now.

“I can’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Once dressed in his pajamas, Janus went out the door. He simply flung it open, not a care about who saw him. Then, he slammed it shut. I pressed my fingernails on my palms to keep myself from crying. I needed to get dressed for my virtual class, but I didn’t think I could survive this day. I felt helpless. I couldn’t exactly run after Janus to beg him to listen to me.

Not long after, Hannah came barging into my room. She made her conclusions upon seeing my disheveled appearance.

“What’s going on, Miss Valerie?”

“N-nothing.”

“Sir Janus just came storming out of your room early in the morning. You can’t be avoiding one Sangster only to end up in the arms of another!”

“I didn’t mean to.”

The housekeeper softened. She went to me, sat on the edge of my bed, and caressed my hair.

“Your life is still a lot more complicated right now. He’s your new guardian. You cannot walk. It will look more terrible on him than on you.”

It seemed she was reassuring me that it wouldn’t be me who would suffer if word got out. But I didn’t want Janus to have to face everything. The relationship might not be exactly wrong, but it might appear unethical to many.

Still, he wasn't at fault, at least not on his own.

“Anyway, it’s too early for any of your siblings to have noticed. Sir Joseph is still preoccupied with his morning ritual. He’s still probably in the home gym.”

Of course, it could all be wrong if I turned out to be Mr. Sangster’s daughter. I felt so frustrated, but I let Hannah rub my back while I lamented in bed. I was regressing into the troubled fourteen-year-old I was, and I didn’t like it. I had taken years to grow into who I had become – a strong, independent woman, despite my wheelchair.

“I love him, Hannah.”

“Love doesn’t always direct you to the right person, Miss Valerie.”

Love also didn’t take away all suspicion from you, apparently. Janus said he loved me, but he wasn’t blind to the possibility that I had lied to him. He was so focused on my pleasure that he knew my body’s movements and how they changed each time we made love.

I also needed to take away the notion that love always had to end with s*x. That s*x could solve all problems like in the case of my parents – who always ended up in bed after a fight. I guessed I was different because it was s*x that triggered Janus’s anger and suspicion. I almost wished that I had let him go when he first wanted to leave.