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Chapter 11
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2024-10-29 19:42:56
VictoryAnne ViceHello! If you are enjoying this story so far, please tell your friends! Also, consider giving it a gem or two! I appreciate all of you! VictoryAnne Vice
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[Sydney–Earlier that Evening] “What about this one?” I twirl in front of a mirror. Atlas is standing to the side, speaking with the shop attendant. He looks up from his phone briefly, giving a weak thumbs up. Sighing, I go back into the dressing room, shaking my head at his inattentiveness. To be fair he didn’t ask to be here, but after his last-minute invitation, I guilted him into giving me a ride. Making a decision, I picked the dress that got the most reaction from Atlas, a gold lame ensemble dripping with crystals and gold sequins. As I go up to the counter to pay, I realize I must have forgotten my credit card at home. “Oh shoot,” I swear, turning to the shopkeeper. “Can you just put this on hold for me? Last name, Bryant.” “What’s wrong,” hearing my distress Atlas puts down his phone. “Don’t you need that dress for tonight?” “I forgot my card at the office,” I sigh, showing him the inside of my empty wallet. “Not a problem,” he pulls a platinum card from his inside co
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[Cordelia] When choosing what to wear this morning, I wanted something that could make me feel confident and strong. I ended up wearing large sunglasses and a designer dress–my armor to hide the fact that I had spent the night crying and I still feel sick to my stomach with anger and sadness. Atlas is ready and waiting at the office when I arrive, looking as freshly pressed as always. Sydney is standing just behind him, her head down, holding a briefcase and her coat. She is also immaculately dressed, her pink Chanel suit a perfect complement to his darker attire. Both sets of lawyers stand framing a large oval table. On that table are several stacks of paper arranged in order of what needs to be signed and by whom. Divorce is never simple, but a divorce with billions of dollars on the line is always a mess requiring many hands. Our marriage was more than just a marriage, it was a contract that combined our family fortunes and businesses. Now all of that hard work of combin
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[Cordelia]My body is shaking as I drive across town and I am still in shock over my mother’s words when I pull into the parking lot of the hospital. A kind nurse shows me the way to my father’s room. After thanking her, I stand outside his door, my hand above the handle as I try to calm my nerves. My father might be dying. Hearing that from my mother hurt in ways I wasn’t expecting. It is one thing to know it might happen someday and another to see it happen before your eyes. We’ve tried over the years to build a stronger relationship, but there is something about the two of us that just doesn’t mix. Even when I try to do my best to please him, it always comes across as a lack of effort on my part or some type of disobedience if I choose to do it my own special way. It has never been my intention to hurt him, but every time I try to be my own person, it seems to harm our relationship. As I take my last deep breath, the boisterous sound of my father’s laughter rings out into the
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[Cordelia] Curiosity drives me to accept the doctor’s offer of coffee. We take our conversation to the small cafe located near the hospital lobby. Taking a seat in the back corner where we can have a bit more privacy, he tells me everything he has observed about my father. “Heart attacks have very specific symptoms, none of which your father has. At your family’s insistence, three doctors and four nurses, including myself, have all checked his vitals and he seems perfectly healthy. His blood pressure is slightly elevated and he has high cholesterol, but that isn’t unusual for his age.” He takes a slow sip of his coffee, wincing. “At best I say he had a panic attack,” I take my own hesitant sip. The look on his face makes more sense now as this is probably the worst cup of coffee I have ever tasted. “Panic attacks can sometimes feel like heart attacks,” he explains in more detail. “Your heart seizes for a microsecond and your body feels a considerable amount of pressure. It’
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[Cordelia] “I thought he would be here by now,” my mother’s heels make a gentle clicking noise as she walks back and forth, “Maybe he doesn’t care for her as much as we had hoped.” “No, he’ll be here,” my father chimes in. “Atlas is loyal. It won’t matter that they are divorced. He’ll be eager to reconcile…” “If he doesn’t get here soon, she’s going to figure out something is going on,” My mother hisses. “What if she finds out that you’re pretending…” “Meghan, you’re worrying for nothing,” my father’s gravely voice assures her. “The department head owes me. None of his staff will say anything against us. Anyone who speaks out of turn will lose their position.” My father is lying to me. Not only that, but Dr. Davis, a man who didn’t even know me, put his career on the line to tell me the truth. I don’t know what I did to deserve his kindness, but I am grateful he was here for me today. Without him, I don’t think I would have the courage to do what I’m about to do. I push open th
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[Atlas] “Atlas?” Sydney is staring at me, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth. “Did you hear what I just said?” I take a moment to readjust my thoughts. I had been thinking about this morning again, and the look on Cordelia’s face right before she signed those papers. “I’m sorry, I have a lot on my mind.” She smiles brightly, instantly forgiving me. “Of course. I was just trying to invite you over to my family’s LA home this weekend. My parents will be flying back home soon, and they wanted to have an “American-style barbeque” before heading back to Toronto.” She then pauses, taking a moment to survey my outfit before saying. “Do you have cowboy boots and a hat?” “Why?” I wonder where this is going. Surely her parents don’t think that all Americans eat barbeque while wearing cowboy attire. “Oh, it’s just that it’s a costume party. The theme is Wild Wild West. I thought I’d go as a…Saloon Girl,” she blushes. “I was hoping you’d come with me and be the sheriff or may
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[Cordelia] “You still have two weeks until the show, Cordy! Make sure you get some fresh air today!” “No promises!” I call after Tilly as she leaves for the office. I am so grateful to have a friend like Mathilda. Not only is she giving me a place to work and live, but she cares enough about me to make sure that I do basic things to take care of myself–like exercise and eat. But I cannot stop working, not until I finish these patterns. I have two weeks to make this line perfect before presenting it at the LA Market and Fashion Expo. There will be vendors from all over the world present and a show like this can launch a career. Entering my collection into this show was expensive, eating up most of what remained of my limited savings. Pulling a pencil from behind my ear, I lean forward and begin sketching out a shape when I hear my phone ring with a tone I haven’t heard in several weeks. It’s my mysterious anonymous unlisted friend. The message contains a series of imag
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Tomorrow is still a day away, however, and I doubt I’ll see Jude before then. We both have busy days ahead of us. Looking over at the pile of work waiting for me, I sigh, wishing I had taken him up on his invitation for coffee. My stomach starts to grumble at the thought of coffee and a large pastry. I’ve been so busy that I forgot to eat. Again. So I make a small brunch of eggs and toast. I don’t reel like making a whole pot of coffee, so I pour myself a glass of orange juice before I sit down to start working again. I’m about two bites in before I need to rush to the toilet. Everything I just ate, along with everything still in my stomach from the night before comes out in a rush. I’ve never felt so sick before in my life. Even after throwing up, there is a pervasive feeling of nausea that lasts the rest of the morning. Just the smell of coffee is enough to make me swallow down bile. Later in the day, I try again to eat a banana. I don’t even finish the first bite before I
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[Cordelia]The man drew closer and I realized my mistake immediately."You're not Atlas," my accusing finger hovers below his chin. He is maybe two inches taller than Atlas, and I'm not used to looking up at such a familiar face. "Close, but not quite."The gentleman laughs. "Right there, Lil Miss," his voice has a strong, rugged-sounding accent. "Or should I say," he takes my passport and squints at the picture, "Ms Ortega. A pleasure to meet you, I'm Wally." "Wally?" I blink up at the stranger with an overeager smile. The longer I look at him the less he looks like my Atlas. While he does have the same chiseled features and a similar muscular build, everything from how he holds himself to how he speaks is so very different. This man is hot on the surface in the ways that Atlas is cold and aloof. My husband shares his smiles sparingly and they are almost never so wide and toothy. But when Atlas smiles at you, really smiles, you know it is genuine. I'm not sure I can trust a thing
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[Cordelia]Once we were airborne and free of Canadian airspace, the tension level of the passengers on the plane immediately relaxed, as if we had passed some kind of test.Even Suzanna breathed a sigh of relief when we landed in New York City. But then she does something I wasn't expecting. She dismisses most of our guards. They nod, taking her word as a commandment, leaving us with only three security members in one of the largest airports in the United States. "This next leg of our trip will be on a commercial airline," she explained as we gathered our belongings. "We will call too much attention to us with that many guards. I'm calling in some of my own for when we arrive." She replies when I question her judgment. "Magnus likely put a tracker on this plane. We need to trick him, and there's no better place than New York City. But if we continue to move in a large pack, we're bound to attract attention." "Reste près," my mother Cristine held out a hand for me to hold as she hel
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[Atlas]Delilah Fisher steps around the corner in a long, silver gown, her makeup flawless, and her smile large and welcoming.She looks so much like Angelica did when I first met her that my heart stutters. I love Cordelia with my entire being, and yet a part of me still reacts to the memory of the shining girl who captured my attention almost a decade ago. But this isn't Angelica. Delilah, while beautiful and poised, lacks the immaculate grace that Angelica exuded. Each of the sisters has a unique nature that shines through, despite having almost identical faces."Atlas Steele," her heels click in the silent room as she steps into the light. "Why is it so hard for you to believe your brother? Haven't you seen enough wonders in this world yet to understand that anything can be possible?""There's no such thing as mind control," I repeat. "Believing in psychic powers is for fools.""And you pride yourself on not being one," she smirks, amused. "But a true wise man would keep his mind
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[Jude]Sydney. Now that she has me under her control, I'll never be free of her. When I came to save her, I was convinced she was pregnant with my child. She had sent a distress signal to me using our private channels letting me know of her pregnancy and it was enough to get me to betray the Steele family and derail their plans to find their cure. Using what I knew about Atlas' missing mother was just a distraction.My goal had always been to claim my son.But then I discovered that beyond all logic Angelica is still alive.I should have realized this was possible and known that Magnus wouldn't give up such a valuable tool so easily. Angelica had been Magnus' toy for years before she was sent into my world. I knew he had modified her, and turned her into the perfect weapon, but I had no idea how deep those modifications went until I saw her face staring at me on that magazine cover.She shouldn't have survived that explosion. And yet here she is, unscathed, awaiting a new uterus in
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[Atlas]I twist my arm away from the guard in black. His face is blank as he reaches forward again. "Don't." My voice carries forward, and although it isn't loud, it holds a note of command that makes the armed guard pause."Sir," he blinks retracting his hand. "You are trespassing. I was ordered to take you into holding." My face remains still as my voice rings out again, "You will not touch us. You have no right." The guard swallows, taking a step back, my words hitting him with the force of a slap. "We will leave," I inform him. "You will report our apologies to your boss." He nods, accepting my command. "Atlas," Clark calls my attention to our situation. Blinking I snap awake, and pull my gaze from the guard. As soon as I blink, the guard stumbles backward shaking his head in confusion, as if my words and stare alone were enough to entrap him in some kind of trance. Around the edges of my vision, I see more guards headed in our direction. If we are going to make it out of h
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[Atlas]Damn it, Cordelia!"Pick up, pick up, pick up," the phone rings but nobody replies. "This number is unavailable as dialed, please try again," the message on the other end informs me as my blood pressure rises and my hands shake.A moment ago I had been talking to my wife. And then the line was dead. I sent her to Canada to keep her and our children safe, and she chose to bring herself to Magnus' attention. Sending a quick message to the guards in charge of watching over my family, I stare at my screen waiting for word of their status. "Atlas, is there anything I can do to help?"Blinking away from the screen I look up at my brother as our rented van parks a few blocks away from the luau. Our driver informs us of our arrival and waits for further instructions."I'm sorry, Clark," I close my eyes, rubbing my temples. "You were saying something?""Is everything okay?" He tries again and I groan. "No." I groan honestly. "Or at least, I hope everything is fine. Lately, it seems
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[Clark]The message "Tilly SOS" flicked across the screen three times before winking out, leaving my screen blank. I open my email that I keep under an alias on a secure server. There is a single message alerting me to new information available on my server. I've used this system when working with people who needed to keep their identities safe and their messages secret. The last time I needed it was working with Jude while he was still under Magnus' watch.Even though it has been months since I used it, my fingers remember the passcodes. Soon, I'll be on the server. Two emails are waiting for me, both are from Tilly's parents. In the first message, they inform me that they have landed and are settling in their new place. It is a secure facility, surrounded by several acres of land, disconnected from the distant towns and cities. The Madisons, sparing no expense, went to extra lengths to include copious additional security.They are, after all, securing their legacy. Tilly is their o
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[Cordelia]There is a loud explosion just to the right of the airplane. "What was that," I lower the phone, turning it off as I gaze out the window to see what had caused the noise. "Nothing, Ma'am," the co-pilot says over his shoulder, "Just a little turbulence.""Turbulence?" I shout back as another boom resounds just outside the passenger's cabin as a curtain goes up between the pilots and the rest of the plane, blocking our view. "But we aren't even in the air yet!""Calm yourself, Mrs. Steele," Jake, the security guard, takes his phone from my numb hand. "Sit next to your children and trust your staff to get you out of here safely. We've got this, Mrs. Steele."He almost seemed offended in my lack of faith as he types into his phone what I'm guessing is a message to Atlas to calm his nerves and let him know we are alive. "But nobody is telling me what's happening," I grumble as I buckle in next to Jasper and the little girl I've decided to call Saphira until I learn her real na
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[Atlas]"What do you mean gone," I barked into the phone, my hand clenching it tight enough to hear it crunch. These new smartphones seem to get flimsier with each model. I've broken 3 in the last 6 months from anger or nerves. I love my wife, but I'm pretty sure she's going to stress me into an early grave. "Your mother created a distraction, Sir," my lead guard, Jake, apologizes over the phone, not making excuses as much as stating facts. "Mrs. Suzanna Steele arrived late last night along with a young man she called Sasha. The next morning, while your mother and Ms. Devaroux kept me distracted searching for a false threat, your wife and this young man escaped."Cordelia has always been sneaky when she needs to be, and until this point, he had been very good at keeping her from falling into mischief. I wasn't expecting my mother to be part of the problem. At least now I know where she ran off to. Her room had been empty when I returned to the boat yesterday. "Are you sure it is m
