บท 2: The Monster Loves to Talk
(SASHA)
I am buried busy in my study when a knock on the door startles me. I grip the pen with such intensity that I can easily snap it into half, without looking up. I wonder who it could be when I had announced to everyone earlier that I'd be busy, and I'd very much appreciate ample time to concentrate on my work.
"Come in," I reply, and the door gently pushes inward, and Benedict makes his way in carrying a bowl of fruits. He smiles tightly as he heads to the free table on the far right, placing the bowl at the center. Benedict has been our housekeeper since I was young and has been serving the Adonis family since.
"Help yourself, Sir." He says. One look at him and I know something is bothering him, given the way he is stealing glances at me.
"What's wrong Benedict?" I ask, pushing the chair away and getting to my feet.
"I shouldn't be telling you this. But I think you need to know." He whispers, occasionally glancing behind uneasily as if he fears someone walking in on him. I quirk an eyebrow, willing him to explain to me whatever he means by that.
"They're conspiring against you, Sasha." He whispers, hand over his mouth. I chuckle and help myself to an apple. I bite into it, holding his gaze.
"Who's conspiring against me?" I ask. "I hope you haven't been hitting the Novril again, Benedict."
"No, Sasha. I'm serious." He retorts, scratching the bald part of his head. Benedict had been a friend for a long time and was fiercely loyal to the Adonis family which was an advantage in this world. There is, however, one problem that I can't quite chalk up to the fact that maybe it was old age catching up with him, or it's something else. He always sees conspiracies where none exist.
Often too many times, he comes up to me to warn me of impending dangers, most of which aren't actual problems. I do appreciate him looking out for the family, but I have bigger fish to fry.
"Angelo. Who else?" He shrugs.
I facepalm myself. "I have eyes out for him. My lackeys haven't reported anything unusual to me." I reply, downplaying my concern for him."
"You know the good thing about being a housekeeper is people underestimate me. They talk around me, and I pay attention."
Much as don't want to buy into this news he has for me, I can't help but notice he is agitated. But then, he always seems rattled nonetheless.
"Okay, Benedict. What did you hear?" I ask, putting the apple on the table and crossing my arms over my chest.
"Angelo is coming for you." Benedict blurts out.
I stifle a laugh. It is almost too obvious that Angelo had been leering on me. If he wasn't my brother, I would have dealt with him a long time ago. However, I can't do that, and it disappoints me. Angelo isn't my blood brother, however. He was thirteen when my father adopted him.
Angelo is a pain in the neck. Everyone in the family dislikes him. It is easy to hate him given his tendency to want to boss everyone around. Luckily for me, I have enough on my plate to worry about instead of a bratty stepbrother. Ever since my father had been grooming me to take over. That alone had me overseeing so many responsibilities even at a young age.
Now I have Angelo to deal with. So much for my father's generosity. Sometimes I wish he wasn't my brother.
"So what exactly did you overhear about Angelo's plans?" I ask, shoving my hands into my pockets.
Benedict glances back again for the umpteenth time, which begins to irk me somehow. I don't understand what he fears so much when he is in fact here with me.
"He said they'll make you look like a fool. That way no one will trust you to work anything out as expected." Benedict says.
I have to admit that his words don't thrill me in the least bit. However, I could use every bit of information he has on Angelo. If anyone is planning to scheme on me, I need to know the details of how they plan to do it, even if it is as unreliable as Benedict's.
"I don't know what his plans are, Sasha. All I know is you're the rightful heir. You can handle this matter, easy peasy. I don't know why you're being hesitant–"
Unless I understood Benedict wrong, I could've sworn he just told me to handle Angelo. Handle could only mean so much.
"Are you suggesting I kill him?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, almost baffled at Benedict's idea. However, it makes sense, it just sounds weird coming from him. It was the last thing anyone who knows him would expect.
Benedict scoffs. "I didn't exactly say that. Not that it's a bad idea either."
I take his word, scanning his face for a few generous seconds. He could be delusional, but I can't just overlook everything he tells me. He might be right. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. "I appreciate you looking out for me," I say, tapping his shoulder gently.
Benedict replies me with a curt nod and walks off.
It's the conversations like these that make me want to watch Angelo more keenly. The situation is already tough for me, but he is making things harder by having the men from other syndicates question what they shouldn't have in the first place.
I walk out of the study and see Miles, my trusted aide leaning on the car door. He is blowing smoke into the air, but as soon as he notices that I'm headed in his direction, he drops the cigarette and crushes it under his heel.
"That was fast." He begins, "How did it go in there?" he asks.
Turns out Benedict wasn't so stealthy after all. For his sake, I hoped no one got the details of our conversation. The man was too paranoid for his own good. I couldn't begin to imagine how he'd react if he noticed someone caught wind of him talking to me.
"It was nothing," I retort, sucking my teeth. "You know how Benedict can be sometimes."
"Yeah, I know." He replies, crossing his arms over his chest. "How about work?"
"It's a lot, I can't promise I'll be done with it any soon," I reply, somewhat indifferent. "Which reminds me, I've worked quite an appetite. Wanna join me for lunch?"
"Uhm…I don't really– "
"Come on Miles, you know I hate eating alone. Joining me won't cost you. Or are you afraid that I'll make you pick the check?"
"I didn't know you're so needy, Sasha. But whatever." Miles shrugs. "Let's go." He says, rounding the front of the car into the driver seat as I open the passenger seat door.
I have barely made myself comfortable when the sound of my phone ringing gets my attention. I reach for it to see the name on the screen. It is my mother.
"Hi, Mama, how are you?" I ask jovially. We don't talk often, since she is always held up in her affairs and I'm always buried busy with work. It's unusual for her to call me, especially at this hour.
"Not good dear." She sounds tense, and I can almost immediately notice that something is off with her tone. "Your father wants to speak with you, come home. "
"How serious?" I ask, hoping to get a positive answer, one that is very unlikely since my father is slowly dying of leukemia. I can feel that he's trying to get everything in place just in case, and the thought of it sickens me to my stomach. I knew I'd eventually take up the responsibility. I just didn't think it would be this soon.
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