Set In Stone

by Dakota Willink

  “Alex, I’m home!” I heard Krystina call from the foyer.

  She knew that both the alarm system and Hale always alerted me to anyone’s arrival, yet she always made her presence known upon returning home. Sometimes I wondered if it was her subtle way of ignoring the security around her. Whatever it was, I loved that my name was the first thing I heard from her lips when she came through the door.

  “I’m in the office, angel,” I called back.

  When she came in, her arms were laden with packages.

  “Wait until I show you the dress I got for tonight!” she exclaimed with excitement.

  “Shit!” I swore and hurried out from behind the desk to help her. “Why didn’t Hale or Samuel bring this up for you?”

  I freed her arms of the shopping bags and set them on the leather sofa in the office. She waved me off dismissively.

  “Oh, stop it. I’m perfectly capable,” she chided. “Here, let me show you.”

  Her cheeks were flushed with delight as she began to tear through the packages. Clearly, she enjoyed her day of shopping.

  And I’m about to ruin it.

  I wanted her to continue enjoying this moment, even if it was over something as simple as a dress. She deserved it. I wanted her to have the opportunity to slip in to something new and model it for me. I envisioned her curves twirling in front of the full-length mirror as she inspected her reflection. To me, it didn’t matter what she wore. That killer body of hers could make anything look sexy.

  I briefly toyed with the idea of not showing her the article until after the party. The way she was acting was so very normal, and it came at a time when everything in my world seemed to be at odds. I hated to be the one to break her mood, but I knew I had to.

  What I had to tell her could not be sorted out in just one conversation or through a few hours of heart-to-heart communication. This would take time, patience, and finesse, as I didn’t know how she would react.

  Reaching for her arm, I stopped her from rummaging through the packages and turned her to face me. I paused, suddenly hit with enough anxiety to film my skin with a sheen of sweat.

  “No, angel. That has to wait,” I told her. I led her over to the chair in front of my desk. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

  10

  krystina

  “Alex?” I questioned. “What’s wrong?”

  The seriousness of his tone set me on high alert. I carefully took him in as he sat down across from me and ran his hands through his hair. Stress lines marred his perfect face and his jaw had that telltale nervous tick. He was obviously angry, but there was more. His coloring was off, ashen almost. Never before had I seen him wound so tight, yet appear defeated at the same time. The strong man in front of me looked completely and utterly broken.

  “Do you remember everything I told you about my past?”

  “Of course, I do. Alex, tell me what’s happened. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Is everything alright?”

  “A reporter from The City Times got in to see Charlie last night. Charlie told him everything about Justine and me. About our past.”

  I breathed a small sigh of relief. From the way he looked, I thought something catastrophic had happened. I often thought Alexander worried too much about his past being made public. His paranoia was something I could never quite wrap my head around.

  “It will be okay. Like I said before, you worry about this too much. It was a long time ago. You were just a boy, Alex.”

  He stared blankly at the wall behind me, appearing lost in a memory, before turning his gaze back to meet mine.

  “When I threw that gun in the Harlem River, I thought I destroyed the only evidence that would lead to the truth,” he murmured. His words were quiet, but not quite a whisper. I was so confused. Alexander hadn’t talked about the day of his father’s death since that night on The Lucy.

  What happened to suddenly bring this on? Why is he thinking about it?

  “More than likely, this will be gossip for a short time and then people will move on.” I paused as I realized what he had just said. “Wait a minute. You said you thought you destroyed it. Has it been recovered?”

  “No, it hasn’t been found. It doesn’t need to be,” he said sadly and turned the computer monitor to me. “You need to read this, angel.”

  I looked at the computer screen. It was an email forwarded from Hale. The original sender was from someone named Mac Owens. My eyes scrolled down the contents of the page. There was a title in bold font with the date and credentials listed below it.

  Rags to Riches: Was It Worth The Price?

  February 24, 2017

  By Mac Owens

  In 2012, I set out to do a piece on the self-made billionaire, Alexander Stone. As with most media interactions, Mr. Stone was aloof, offering little to no insight to his background. I dug further, only to hit one dead end after another. It appeared as though Alexander Stone never existed before 2003. After years of digging and research, I was finally able to find the one man who could shine light on the truth: Charlie Andrews.

  Below is a recount of Mac Owens’ exclusive interview with Charlie Andrews, one that will give insight to the mysterious billionaire, Alexander Stone. This interview, although not the most thorough or complete set of questions and answers, is the most extensive information available on Alexander Stone and his rise to power.

  Note: The following interview contains graphic language and may not be suitable for younger audiences.

  The interview went into details about Charlie’s history with Alexander. It gave a recap of my kidnapping and the subsequent car accident that shattered Charlie’s plans to get rich quick. Charlie was careful with his wording to the reporter, never once admitting guilt. Rather, he blamed Trevor for all of it.

  However, we knew his angle and his plan to say he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The lawyers were prepared for it. My testimony alone was more than enough to convict him. Charlie mentioned a few times that Alexander grew up poor, but other than that, I had no idea why this interview had Alexander so rattled. None of what I was reading was new information.

  “Alex, I’m not seeing –,”

  “Keep reading,” he interjected. “You know most of this so far. You can skip ahead to this part of the interview if you want to.”

  He pointed to a spot on the computer screen. I blinked, startled by the determination written on his face. It was alarming and I almost didn’t want to keep reading. I wanted him to tell me what it said, but there was something about the severity of his posture that compelled me to do as he instructed instead.

  Turning back to the screen, I found the place where Alexander had marked and continued on.

  Mac Owens: The details of your trial have been kept remarkably quiet, Mr. Andrews. I understand that you may want the chance to plead your case to the public. Is there anything you can tell me that I don’t already know?

  Charlie Andrews: I need to give you everything. Background is important. I thought you came to see me because you wanted a story. The whole story.

  Mac Owens: I do, Mr. Andrews, but everything you’ve said up to this point is hardly earth-shattering.

  Charlie Andrews: Okay, Mr. Fucking-know-it-all. I guess you know all about my ex-wife murdering her father then, don’t you?

  My head whipped away from the computer screen to face Alexander.

  “What!” I exclaimed. “What does he mean about murd –.”

  He held up his hand to silence me once more.

  “No. I told you to keep reading. You can ask questions later.”

  I looked back to the monitor, but questions were racing through my brain at a breakneck speed. I pushed them aside and focused once more on the text.

  Mac Owens: You have my attention now, Mr. Andrews. Go ahead.

  Charlie Andrews: I knew that would do the trick [laughs]. Haven’t you ever wondered about my dear old ex-brother in law’s parents? My ex-wife’s parents?

  Mac Owens: I wa
s never able to find anything on them. Not a name, not an address. What can you tell me about that?

  Charlie Andrews: You haven’t found anything because you’re looking in the wrong places. You should start with the old projects that were torn down some years back. You know, the ones that were replaced with low-income housing. That asshole was behind that too.

  Mac Owens: Behind what? Who’s an asshole?

  Charlie Andrews: I just told you. Aren’t you listening to me? The projects. They were torn down by my ex-wife’s brother, Alex. Said it was for charity or some shit like that. It was a crap excuse. I knew why they were torn down. He didn’t want there to be evidence of what Justine did.

  Mac Owens: The murder?

  Charlie Andrews: Ah, now you’re finally learning. Yeah, the murder. She killed her father. She was just a kid, but she did it. She told me herself a few years ago. Apparently, the old man came home in a rage. He was a big drinker. Justine hated talking about it. But she told me. She told me everything.

  Mac Owens: How did she kill him?

  Charlie Andrews: Shot him. Just like that [snaps his fingers]. Right in the stomach. The sucker never stood a chance. The way Justine described the blood, he probably bled out in a matter of minutes. Maybe it was deserved. Hell, I don’t know. If he really did kill his wife, maybe that was his punishment.

  Mac Owens: Wait, you lost me there. What about his wife?

  Charlie Andrews: I don’t know the details about that. Her body was never found. At least, I don’t think it was. I only know what Justine told me. The father came home, stumbling around, saying that he killed her – the wife I mean. Justine and Alex’s mother. He told Justine that nobody could protect her anymore. Said Alex couldn’t save her either. Called him a weak little pussy. Still is if you ask me.

  Mac Owens: So, he came home drunk and said he killed his wife, Alex and Justine’s mother. What year did this happen?

  Charlie Andrews: I don’t know. Justine was about seven or eight. Practically a baby. I like em’ young, but not that young.

  Mac Owens: What do you mean?

  Charlie Andrews: He came at her. Started touching her in all the wrong places, if you know what I mean. That’s when she shot him.

  Mac Owens: Then what happened?

  Charlie Andrews: That’s when things get kind of fucked up. All secretive-like. You know that guy who’s always with Alex? Hale something or another? His bodyguard, I think. I don’t know what his title is, but he looks like he could snap a man in half.

  Mac Owens: I know the man you’re referring to. What can you tell me about him?

  Charlie Andrews: He was real close with that family. He’s a military guy. He was home on leave when it all happened. I think he did something to cover it up. Justine’s mother remained a missing persons case. The murder of the father went unsolved. Hell, there’s not even a murder scene left to investigate since Alex had the place torn down. It’s all one big cover up.

  Mac Owens: Mr. Andrews, this is quite the tale. I’m not saying that I don’t believe you, but I’ve dug into Mr. Stone’s past. I’ve never come across this. Do you have proof? As you can imagine, the story of an unsolved murder case connected to someone as influential as Alexander Stone would be easy to find.

  Charlie Andrews: Like I told you before. You’re looking in the wrong places. His name isn’t Stone. It’s Russo.

  My vision became hazy. There was more, but I couldn’t focus on the remainder of the interview as I tried to comprehend what I was reading. A million thoughts swamped my brain in waves, before the sound of a roaring tidal wave filled my head.

  Justine knew what happened this whole time?

  Had Alexander known? Did he not tell me the whole truth?

  What about the building he tore down? Did he really do it to cover up more evidence?

  And then my eyes zeroed in on the last thing I read. I felt my stomach pitch.

  Russo.

  I looked up at the man before me. He was the man I loved with every fiber of my being, but there were so many layers. Just when I thought I had reached the core, there was another layer to get through. I wondered if I would ever truly come to know the central reality that made up the man I wanted to marry. It was an unsettling sort of feeling and I couldn’t stop the troubling question from leaving my lips.

  “Who are you?”

  alexander

  I hated to see so much hurt and confusion in Krystina’s eyes. A shocked silence filled the room and made the air feel stifling. I repeated her question again in my head.

  “Who are you?”

  A part of me didn’t know the answer to that anymore. The man I thought I was, the man I created, was free falling into an abyss. Past and present melded and blurred the lines I had drawn long ago. The only thing I was certain of anymore was Krystina. She was my constant. She knew me like nobody else did. It was up to me to make sure she never doubted that.

  “My birth name was Alexander Russo. I have not spoken the name in years. That person no longer exists.”

  “What do you mean he doesn’t exist? He’s you!” she exclaimed, her voice rising to a near deafening level.

  “Krystina, stop yelling. There are things you don’t understand.”

  “I’m all ears, Stone. Or Russo. Or whatever the hell your name is,” she spat out accusingly. She was on the verge of hysteria. Her eyes flashed angrily. I couldn’t blame her. As far as she knew, I told her everything about my past. Except for my identity.

  “I legally changed my name after I turned eighteen years old. I am Alexander Stone. Not Russo.”

  “What about Justine?”

  “Hers was legally changed as well. It was Stone until she married Charlie Andrews.”

  “No, I didn’t mean her name. It’s all this other stuff. You told me you didn’t know,” she said, her voice cracking over the last sentence. She no longer sounded hysterical, but more like she was fighting off tears. I also sensed a hint of betrayal, a feeling I understood all too well.

  “I didn’t know,” I responded flatly. “Justine never told me. It’s hard to believe she would hide something like this from me. I haven’t been able to reach her to confirm it either. For all I know, Charlie made it all up.”

  She sat back, folded her arms, and seemed to be considering the possibility.

  “Do you think he did?” she eventually asked.

  “I don’t know, angel. I just don’t know.”

  I raked a hand through my hair in frustration and stood up to pace the room. My sister’s deception mixed with my own self-doubt weighed heavily in my chest. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but my instincts were telling me that what Charlie said was true. Every word of it. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to will away the headache that was starting to form.

  If only Justine would answer my damn calls!

  “I’m trying not to be upset with you about this. Just listening to you, seeing how shaken you are.” She paused momentarily and shook her head. When she spoke again, her voice was hushed, almost as if she were afraid to voice the words. “I think you know Charlie didn’t make this up.”

  I turned to look at her. One glance at her expression and I could tell she was exercising restraint. With our gazes locked, I could almost see the pleading in her beautiful brown eyes. Like she was begging me to make her understand.

  “My gut says that Charlie’s story is the truth. When I think back on things, certain behaviors and actions…” I trailed off, struggling to find the words to explain something that I should have seen a long time ago. “Justine has always been the jittery, nervous type. It wasn’t until about five years ago that she began her obsession with the media, the police, and that rundown shitty apartment building. I blamed the shrink she was seeing. I thought he was making her nuts. She became obsessed over a past that we successfully buried. That I buried.”

  “Is that where your aversion for our sessions with Dr. Tumblin comes from?”

  “That’s part of it,” I admitted
. “She pushed me to rip down the old abandoned projects. I didn’t argue with her rationale. It was another memory that I could erase. Besides, the projects were condemned, full of rats. They became a home for the homeless and a paradise for the heroine junkies. When I proposed that the Stoneworks Foundation clean it up, the city was more than happy to oblige. Neighboring streets had been advocating for the demolition for years. Fundraisers were held and federal grants came easily. Justine headed up the entire project. The rotten buildings were torn down and new ones went up in less than two years. Once that happened, she stopped seeing the shrink and was calm again.”

  “It could just be a coincidence. Maybe she was just trying to erase the memory like you said,” Krystina suggested.

  “Perhaps.” I thought about the other thing Charlie said about my father and Justine.

  If he touched her, like that…

  I couldn’t even finish the thought. Bile rose in the back of my throat. I couldn’t think about it, about him and his stale breath and grimy hands. She was just a child. If he truly did the unthinkable, I could never live with myself.

  I should have known. I should have protected her.

  I stopped pacing and slammed my fist hard onto the desk.

  “Alex!” Krystina jumped in surprise. I looked into her eyes. They were as wide as saucers and full of confusion. But worse, there was fear in them too.

  Was she afraid of me?

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Taking a few calming breaths, I opened them to look at her again.