by J. S. Cooper
“I know her name rings a bell,” David said lightly, though I knew he was gloating inside. He knew how badly I wanted to find out what had happened to the Londons. I’d only asked him once if he knew anything about her, but even once was enough. David knew me well enough to know that if I was asking, it was for a reason.
“What do you want, David?” I wasn’t interested in playing his mind games; psyching people out with words and vague clues was a tactic he’d picked up from our father, and I for one didn’t have time for all the back-and-forth. I liked to be straight and direct. I didn’t have time for mind-fuckery. I’d never seen the point, but I supposed that I never knew how I might react in certain situations.
“I think we need to figure out exactly what Ms. London knows.”
“So do that, then.” I walked into my apartment and locked the door behind me. I stared out the windows at the New York skyline and smiled at the sight. This apartment had the best view of Manhattan and it never ceased to amaze me.
“I’m going to get to know her, but I think we might need a more exhaustive plan.”
“What does that mean? A more exhaustive plan?”
“Larry Renee suggested it.”
“Oh?” I froze at the sound of Larry’s name. He was on my hit list, too, though he wasn’t at the top. It seemed to me that Larry had had a large role in everything that had gone on during the first years of my parents’ dating.
“He’s worried she might know things that we don’t want to come out. Things that could hurt us.”
“Where would she have found out these things?”
“Her father might have told her.”
“You think he told her everything?”
“I don’t know. That’s what we have to find out.”
“You think she wants a piece of the company?”
“She probably thinks she deserves a cut.”
“She most probably does.”
“She doesn’t deserve anything, Jakob.”
“Why don’t you tell her that, then?”
“You know it’s more complicated than that.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I was thinking about that island . . .” His voice trailed off.
“What island?” I shook my head in frustration, not following along with him.
“The island you just bought. Maybe she could have a nice trip.”
“At my resort?”
“No . . . the deserted one.” His voice was stiff.
“You want me to fly her to a deserted island? You think she’s going to agree to that?”
“I’m not suggesting anything right now. I just want us to consider all of our options.”
“This is your problem, David, not mine. I really don’t care what happens to Bradley, Incorporated.”
“It’s not my fault I wasn’t born the bastard.” Superiority rang out in his tone and I clutched the phone. I hated David with a passion. This weak-willed, smug, spineless asshole really thought he was better than me just because he’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. How badly I wanted to tell him that he was running his beloved company into the ground. He didn’t see it yet, and neither did the investors, but I knew exactly what was going on. I followed every move they made and every company they purchased. David had made some foolhardy investments and, unbeknownst to him, I was the one keeping him afloat right now. I was the owner of almost every company that he had major stocks in. I held his livelihood in my hands. And I could crush him whenever I wanted. But now wasn’t the time.
“It wasn’t my mother’s fault that your dad was a bastard, either,” I said softly, wishing I could see his face.
“I’m sorry that you hated our father. He was a good man.”
“I have to go, David.” I walked over to the couch and sat down, my head starting to pound.
“Before you go, I wanted to invite you to the annual company ball. It’s this weekend.”
“I don’t know.” I made a face. I had no interest in going to the ball.
“Steve will be there, and I want you to meet my girlfriend, Roma.”
“How is Steve?” I thought about the awkward young man who had worked for Bradley, Inc. since he was a teenager. Our father had taken him under his wing and Steve had almost become like a third brother—though neither David nor I really liked him and I was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. Guess that’s what passed for brotherhood in the Bradley family.
“He’s fine.” David’s voice was low. “Though if Bianca goes digging, she could upset the balance between us all. Steve especially.”
“Well, you know, the sins of men.” I looked through the window.
“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The sins of men always come back to haunt them.”
“So you’re not going to help me with Bianca?” He sounded angry now and I knew that I had wound him up too much. David was like a delicate flower. You had to be extremely careful when handling him or he would break.
“Oh, I’ll help you. We can talk this weekend, at the ball.”
“Great.” David sounded satisfied. “Oh, and Jakob?”
“Yes?”
“Bring a date.” And with that David hung up the phone. I sat back on the couch and looked around the opulent living room for a few seconds before smiling. Everything was coming into place; a little ahead of schedule, but I didn’t mind. I would finally get the revenge I’d been thinking about for what seemed like half my life. I’d take down London, Larry, and then David. I was saving David for last. The takedown of my brother would be the victory I’d savor the most.
two
“Jakob, some people say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, I’m telling you that’s not true.” My mother’s face was anxious. “If I could take back having loved so hard, I would have.”
“It’s not your fault you loved Dad so hard.” I grabbed her hands. “He was a fool for letting you go. I’m sure he regrets it.”
“He was a fool.” She nodded. “But Jeremiah Bradley was not the only fool I knew, Jakob. Or the one who I blame for my broken heart. No, he was a weak man. Everything in his life dictated that money was more important. My only hope in life was that you weren’t poisoned by his greed and want any of his money.”
“Money is not the most important thing in the world, Mother. It’s what causes countries to go to war, and diseases to continue to flourish and people to starve.” My voice was passionate as I tried to show her that I wasn’t about the money. I wasn’t like my father. I wouldn’t make choices that would negatively affect her just so I could make money.
“You’re wrong, Jakob. Money is important. It’s the most important commodity in the world. Without money you’re no one. Life tells you what to do. With money, you decide your fate. With money, you make your own choices. Make it your goal to have money, my dear. I would hate for your life to be dependent on others.”
“But you said you don’t want us to take my father’s money. You said that . . .” My voice trailed off at the stern look on her face.
“You’re a smart boy, Jakob. I don’t want you taking your father’s blood money. His fortune is intended for David, anyway.”
“David doesn’t like me.” Even as a child I knew that my half brother didn’t have sentimental feelings for me. At first that had hurt, growing up around him, knowing he was my brother, even if he hadn’t known right away. Being the maid’s child in a rich environment had shown me just how the two halves lived. It had shown me that life was harder but simpler when you were poor. I didn’t have to want for anything that I needed, but I’d never been able to have the name-brand sneakers and clothes that my peers at Harrow Meade were able to afford. I was very much the pauper at the school, but that didn’t bother me. Maybe it was because I was a handsome boy, so girls were all over me; even while the boys taunted me, due to superiority and jealousy. It didn’t hurt that they all wanted to rebel against their rich and domina
ting fathers by dating the poor kid at school. That all changed once word got around that I was the illegitimate son of a banker, as cold with his child as he was with his figures. Then the whispers became about something else and people wondered if I was just eclectic and that was why I looked so poor.
“It doesn’t matter if David likes you.” She kissed my cheek. “Your mother loves you.”
“Don’t you ever want to get married?” I looked at her hesitantly, not wanting to hurt her feelings with my question.
“There was only one man I’ve ever loved enough to want to marry and he already was. I thought he loved me. I thought he wanted to be with me. I did things I’m not proud of. Things I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. Things that keep me up at night.”
“What things?” I asked softly, staring at the pain in her eyes. “What happened, Mother?”
“Don’t worry your head about it. Just remember what I tell you. You’re a smart, handsome boy. You’re my life. Don’t make the mistakes that I made and don’t become your father. I want a different life for you, Jakob. I want you to travel the world. I want you to be happy. And if you ever fall in love, I want it to be with a woman who deserves your heart.”
“Is there ever going to be a woman who deserves my heart?” I teased her, knowing that she wanted much more for me than just giving my heart away.
“There will be, one day, when you’re in your forties.” She smiled.
“Forties?” My jaw dropped. “I’ll be an old man then.”
“Better to be old and smart than to be a young fool in love.”
“I guess so.” I nodded in agreement, though I still thought that forty seemed like such a long time away.
“One day you’ll make a great father and husband, Jakob. Any woman will be lucky to have you.”
“You’re just saying that.” I blushed, feeling pleased at my mother’s words. One day I’d make my mother proud and she’d forget all the pain she’d lived through. She’d realize that everything had been worth it. I would make her happy.
* * *
“Steve, it’s Jakob,” I said as soon as the phone stopped ringing. I knew that Steve didn’t talk when he answered the phone until someone had spoken first.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” His voice let me know it was anything but a pleasure.
“You’ve been working with Larry recently, right?”
“Yes.” His speech was tinged with a hint of a British accent this morning—heaven only knew why. “I’ve been working with him ever since Mr. Bradley died.”
“That’s good.” I felt guilty that I hadn’t known that before, but Steve was one of those people who was easily forgotten. He’d always had a chip on his shoulder and he’d resented both David and me. Steve grew up in a foster home and had started in the mail room at Bradley when he was seventeen, quickly rising through the ranks when my father took him under his wing. I always wondered what it was about Steve that had attracted my father’s interest, but I never really cared enough to actually investigate their link. “Are you going to the company ball this weekend?”
“Yes,” he said, not giving me anything more than what I’d asked.
“You’ve heard about this Bianca London?”
“Yes,” he said again. I pursed my lips to stop myself from expressing my frustration with him.
“She contacted Larry about the company?”
“Her father died and Larry handed her a few boxes of his personal papers.”
“Without going through them first?” I frowned. Why would he just hand over the papers?
“What can I help you with, Jakob?”
“Do you think this Bianca is going to be a problem?”
“To whom?”
“To anyone?”
“Yes, she represents a risk.”
“Is Larry worried?”
“Larry has tried to take care of all the potential problems.”
“How?”
“He had me go see Mr. London as he was dying.”
“And?”
“He wanted to make sure that I took care of the problem.” Steve’s British accent became slightly Australian and I tried not to roll my eyes. I wasn’t sure why he thought he was such a good actor.
“What did you do?” I picked up my pen and tapped it against my desk.
“I didn’t kill him.” Steve laughed. “If that’s what you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t wondering that,” I lied.
“I could kill if I had to,” Steve said softly. “But I didn’t have to.”
“What did you do?”
“Larry wanted to make sure that the truth didn’t come out.” Steve’s voice was deep, and I could picture the look on his gaunt, skinny face as he spoke. “Or if it did, he wanted an alternate story to come out.”
“What alternate story?”
“He wanted to ensure that he and Jeremiah weren’t caught up in any truths that might come to light.”
“How?”
“He wanted London to sign a deathbed confession.”
“Really?” I twirled my fourteen-karat-gold pen in my fingers as I sat back in my leather office chair and thought for a second. “Did Bianca get this confession in her paperwork?”
“No,” Steve said. “It will only come to light if Bianca starts making trouble.”
“I see.”
“David wants us all to discuss everything at the ball.”
“All of us?”
“We need a plan.”
“Yes, I suppose a plan would be in order.” I nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll see you on Saturday, then.”
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
“It’s all coming out now, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Steve’s voice was harsh. “It’s time for people to pay.”
I hung up without asking him what he meant. I knew Steve wouldn’t explain his cryptic words to me and I didn’t really care. Not now, when I had more important things to think about. This was the beginning. I knew that as surely as I knew that my mother’s life and sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.
I went to Google and typed in “Bianca London.” A number of different pages showed up and I clicked on the first link. “Brad Pitt to Star in Slave Movie,” read the title of the article, and I clicked out of it quickly. That wasn’t going to help me. I looked through the rest of the links and saw that all of them were articles about movies. I clicked on the second page of the search results and saw a more in-depth profile on a university page. Bianca was a history grad student. I stared at her photo for a few seconds, studying the face of the woman who was creating so much turmoil.
She looked like a grad student. Her dark brown hair was tied back and she looked into the camera with a small, shy smile. Her big brown eyes looked earnest and her outfit was nondescript. She looked like a nobody. Certainly not the product of two conniving individuals. There was something about the way she was staring into the camera—her expression was almost wistful. I frowned as I gazed at her photo. This wasn’t the image I’d expected to see. I wasn’t expecting Bianca London to be a history nerd with a penchant for writing movie articles. I exited out of the page quickly and checked to see whether she had other, racier and more provocative photos out there on the web. Unfortunately for me, none of the other photos I found showed Bianca in a different light. Not that I would let that stop me; her appearance didn’t matter. She still had to pay for the sins of her parents.
* * *
I was eighteen when my mother first mentioned the names Angelina and Nicholas London. It was a day I’ll never forget, for that was when I was finally able to direct my mother’s disappointment and pain at someone other than my father.
“I once had a love so great that I thought I could stop the world from moving,” my mother murmured as we’d waltzed around the living room to the sounds of Johannes Brahms. “I do so love this composition.” She sighed happily.
“Waltz in A-flat major,” I said as we spun aroun
d the room.
“I wish you hadn’t stopped your piano lessons.” She looked at me then with a small frown.
“If I was playing the piano, I couldn’t dance with you.” I smiled at her gently.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
“I don’t have to think,” I said in my smart-ass way, and she laughed. “And I can still play ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’ ”
“Of course you can.”
“I wanted this song to play at my wedding,” she said softly as “Spring” from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons played.
“I didn’t know that.”
“There are many things you don’t know, son.” She increased her pace and I followed suit. “I’d already picked my wedding dress out. It wasn’t white. I wasn’t a virgin. It was a cream, eggshell color, lots of lace. Demure yet sophisticated. I . . .” Her voice caught. “Well, that was the past, it wasn’t meant to be.”
“I’m sorry, Mother.”
“Don’t be, I have so many regrets. So many things that should have been different. If I could go back, there are so many things I would say to them.”
“Say to who?” I stopped abruptly and my mother shook her head in displeasure.
“The Londons.”
“Who are the Londons?” I asked softly.
“The couple who ruined my life.”
“Oh?”
“Nicholas London worked with your father at Bradley. In fact, he was one of the founders. His wife, Angelina, was a busybody, always in everyone’s business. She thought everything had to be a certain way. She didn’t want me around. She was jealous of me.”
“Why was she jealous of you, Mother?” I asked softly.
“She wanted what I had. She wanted the love that I shared with Nicholas. She couldn’t stand it that he had fallen for me. But she had her chance. She . . .” Her voice caught. “She ruined everything. And Nicholas wasn’t strong enough to stand up to her. He didn’t stop her. He felt guilty about everything and then, well, then everything was too late.”