Chapter 3

David

Michael drops Sarah off at her house.

- I tell Father, you are at your home,—my brother says, and I raise an eyebrow and smirk; at that exact moment, Sarah turns her eyes to me. - Well, tomorrow morning, I'll catch a plane to Australia. I'll be back in a month or two. If you need anything, call me.

- I hope everything goes well there. Don't forget to take your pills for motion sickness. Your father asked me to remember you.

I would laugh if it were funny. My father is not worried about Michael getting sick, but if he read in the newspaper that his oldest son threw up on the plane's first class, it would be a scandal.

- They're already inside the laptop bag.

- Goodnight, David, and welcome home. – she says with a beautiful smile.

I feel my face burning. "Welcome home". She was the first to say it. With my biggest seductive smile, I reply:

- Goodnight, stepmother, and thank you.

Michael was already in the car and told the driver to take off without waiting for her to enter the house. As the car left, I watched Sarah look at the limousine, then turn around and walk into the house.

Sarah's penetrating gaze is all that I can think of, but as the car approaches the Campbell mansion, I can't help but remember the day my mother had her tragic end.

I made a promise ten years ago, as her closed coffin descended, and I had returned home, not because he ordered, but because finally I could fulfill it.

Flashback

- Mom? Mom? Help! Someone help her! Please! Call 911. Mom?

David's screaming in panic when his mother, for no apparent reason, leans over and falls.

Within seconds, the servants ran around the house in an uproar, not knowing exactly what to do.

Twenty minutes later, the ambulance arrives, but they can only confirm the woman's death. The police are called to the scene before the body is taken for an autopsy.

No one paid any attention to the 16-year-old boy who looked in shock at his mother's body being put on a black bag and carried on a stretcher.

Simon Campbell walked through the door, and his appearance resembled someone who had been inconveniently called home rather than a man who had just lost his wife.

- Father, mom died. – David says, crying.

- Stop making a fuss. If your mother died, it's because her time has come. You're not a baby. Swallow those tears. A man doesn't cry.

- But father…

- Get out of my sight, useless boy. Go to your room. Maybe now that you no longer have your mother's skirts to hide behind, you'll become a man.

- Mr. Campbell, can we talk to your son? – one of the female police officers who had been called to the incident said.

- Is it really needed? He is only 16. Maybe I should call my lawyers.

- Your son’s not a suspect.

- Suspect? Suspect of what?

- Sir, the paramedics suspect your wife was poisoned.

- What? And they know that just by looking at her?

- Sir, we need to take his statements, but he's a minor, so we ask your permission to speak to him.

Simon gestures with his hand, telling her to go on. She takes David to the living room and, with a soft voice, she asks him what happened.

- I do not know what happened. She took the pills with her tea, as she does every day. We were talking and she… she… fell. – David says, between sobs.

- Did anything unusual happen today?

- She had stomach pains, but she sometimes complained about her stomach. She had a sensitive stomach.

The officer points to the table and gets up.

- Is this the box where her pills were?

- Yes ma ‘me.

She calls a forensic expert and tells him about the box. He puts it in a bag and tags it. He also tags the cup from which she had drunk the tea.

- Thank you, and my sincere condolences. - the officer said.

David nodded without looking up.

End of flashback

When the limo stops, and the driver opens the door, I shudder and wake up from my dark thoughts. Michael frowns but ignores me and leaves, immediately entering the house.

- Master David, welcome home. - the old butler says.

- Thank you, Anthony. Still working for the old man?

- Where would I go? I have worked in this house since I was 15 years old. My parents died here. Here, I will die, too.

I shook my head. Albert was 13 years older than father. At 79, he shouldn't be serving as the house butler but resting and being served by others.

I enter the house while the servants carry my luggage to my old room.

Looking around, I realized nothing had changed in the last ten years. Everything is in the same place, as time had stopped the day my mother's body was lying on the floor.

My dear father, Simon, was sitting in the living room reading the newspaper, so that was why he couldn't see me in person. He raised his head and, with cold eyes, looked me up and down, disapproving of my choice of clothing.

- Good evening, father. How are you?

- Good evening, David. It's incredible how, living on the old continent for ten years, you couldn't acquire good taste in clothes. For a man to be respected has to dress with class and power.

"Welcome home, son. How are you? I missed you." – I think ironically.

- What's wrong with my clothes? You weren't expecting me to come dressed like a penguin?

Simon rolls his eyes and, looking back at the newspaper, says:

- Go to the kitchen, get something to eat, and then sleep. Tomorrow, we will talk about your future.

"Great, that's just the conversation I've been dying to have."

- I'm going to take a shower and sleep. I ate on the plane. Have a good night, father.

Simon waves his hand, dismissing my presence. Taking a deep breath, I turn my back and go up the stairs to my bedroom—my 16-year-old, neglected bedroom.

I wouldn't be here, in this hellhole of a house, if it weren't for my promise. I have the means now to get my revenge, my mother's revenge, and maybe completely destroy him on the way. Who knows, my return might not be more pleasant than I expected. Sarah's eyes materialize in my mind, and as I close the door that separates my room from the rest of the house, I can't help but smile.