THE SECRET HEIRESS

THE BLOODY DEAL!

LEO

[Money is the Devil. It entraps everyone: even those with the strongest hearts!]

...

'Leo!' 'Please listen to me. Your father had to take that money.' He paused for a while so that he could speak again. 'I was made to do it.' 'But you have to understand, Leo; I am doing everything for you. Do you get that?'

He held the rim of my shirt tightly in an attempt to stop me from running away. I, on the other hand, wanted to free myself from his clutches. It took me so many years to finally act on what I had decided for myself. He smelled too devilish to me. His greatest ever sin was to equate my mother's death with that filthy money. He claimed to have loved her. But as soon as she died, he got busy making deals. It took us four years from her death to until we finally shifted to a bungalow at the heart of the town.

We lived in a rented apartment in the suburb prior to that. Where we lived was practically a wretched 1 BHK apartment with second-hand furniture, away from the hustle-bustle of the town. The walls of the rooms had a few faded patches of stains in the name of paint. We were poor but we had a home: peaceful and sweet. My parents owned a small counter at the farthest corner of the market which they called their crafts shop. They gave me wooden toys to play with which didn't sell or those that had been damaged beyond repair over the course of time. The three of us barely had any big dreams back then. For me, my world meant my parents. And I believed that we were a complete picture of a happy family. However, I later realised that what I was experiencing was a scam.

Witnessing the complete metamorphosis of our life wasn't easy at all. We basically buried our old selves along with my mother's corpse. My father has changed thoroughly from what he used to be. He sold his humanity and honour. He was nothing more than a deception afterwards. Whom I thought to be my god turned out to be evil in the end.

With our increasing social status, I started losing my father to the peril he had chosen to follow. He found it better to forget his pain in the arms of his mistresses who began to flock to his heart and into both of our lives. I was young but not that stupid to not even understand that what our life was transforming into was all but a story painted with my mother's blood. A gap developed gradually between him and me which enlarged with each passing day. He had fun with those women when I was grieving the loss of both of my parents. One had died a painful death, the other one was dying slowly, seeping further down the drain of his lust for power and money. Above all, I was the one to experience the heaviest blow at such a young age.

I was eight when I found my mother's corpse lying on the front door, shot thrice in the head. I required therapy for what I had to go through but I was forced to adapt to something new. Instead of seeking justice for my mother, my father was busy making money from her death.

"I will give justice to my mother. I hope one day you will be proud of me, father!"

I looked into his eyes, which instantly turned dark at what I had said. His eyes were deceitful. They never spoke the truth. His eyes were the abyss that held the deepest, darkest secret of what exactly happened to my mother. With just a little bit of understanding of this world, I had enraged my father that day. I really thought that he had gotten the easy way.

'I won't stop you, then. Try!...all you can.' 'But remember one thing, Leo: If you are leaving me behind today, don't ever dream of returning to me. I won't accept you afterwards!' His voice didn't even flinch one bit. His heart had hardened, just like that of mine. Maybe he had turned numb because he didn't even care how much his words had hurt me. I was suffering right under his protection, but he gave a damn to my pain. It was natural for a child to rebel.

"I hope you have a good life too, father." "If ever I have to come back to you, I will tell myself that my father is dead." I could never forget how bitter his face had turned when he heard what I was trying so hard to hide from him. He must never have imagined that I had that much rage inside me. I didn't want to hurt him back equally with my words but I did. It was a fit of the moment. I was uncertain because I didn't know how to handle myself. He made it difficult for me whether to believe his teary eyes or to believe his harsh words. So, I left his bungalow on my twelfth birthday and he has never tried to contact me ever since. There has never been a day when I didn't miss him. I might have rebelled at that time, but I have always loved him. However, the fact of the matter is that I will never forgive what he chose for himself over me and my mother. He chose a comfortable life, away from hardships: away from the memories of my mother. He chose a life for himself in which he could never include me.

Misery, struggle and money: I was yet to learn that these three formed a triangular cell that entrapped human beings for ages. Maybe that was the reason as to why I failed to understand my father back then. And when I was entrapped in one such situation, I couldn't help myself but recall the bitter-sweet memories.

---

I adjusted the rear-view mirror to have a look at that mysterious woman. 'Who must she be? And what had she done to Mr. Frost?'

'Was she one of his escorts?'

She looked fragile. She must be an elite to offer 1 million dollars to a stranger to save her from those dangerous men. Her life was valuable, no doubt, but that would never mean that I would turn into my father for accepting her deal. I was saving her life in return, so that I could save my grandmother's life with the money she was offering me. It was basically a give and take deal. But still my heart felt heavy.

'What if...just..what if my father was saving somebody of worth? What if he meant no harm?'

'Should I have stayed so that he could open up to me?' A twelve-year-old, I knew nothing more than rage: the burning anger that blinded me from understanding anything beyond what my father showed me and to the world. He had deceived the law with his false statements several times. The more I age, the more I learn my way of life. I have learned to wear a mask in both good and bad times. It is such times when I can relate to what my father had chosen to do: to wear his own mask and hide his truth behind it.

---

"Where shall I drop you, Miss?" I asked her, instead of losing myself in the saddening past events of my life.

...

"Rony. You can call me Rony." She said, non-chalantly. There was no sign of a murderer, or even an escort for that pretty young lady. The way she sat in the passenger seat was classy. Apart from the faint bruise on her temple, nothing was wrong with her appearance. She must have acquired that bruise when I hit her a few minutes earlier.

"Miss Rony, you have to give me an address so that I can drop you off."

'Please take me to a safe place. I don't want those men to find me tonight.' She replied after much hesitation. Her voice was calm and calculated. There was hardly any hint of worry in her tone.

"Do you, perhaps, want to be taken to the police station, Miss Rony?" "Those who are after you seem dangerous!" I recalled Mark's face in between our conversation. He could shoot me and take her with him if need be. I tightened my grasp on the steering wheel, thinking about the gunshots.

"Thank you for your suggestion. But I suppose hiding from them will be a better option for me right now." Her reply made me curious. I felt the need to know as to why she wasn't eager to get the help that she needed.

'Do you mind if I ask you what you've done, Miss Rony?' 'Have you killed Mr. Frost?' I laughed awkwardly at my own joke.

'Should I fear you?' My tongue added another question to humiliate me further. To tell the truth, my mind wasn't working properly. I faced a near death situation not long ago. She could be anyone, a murderer, a thief. She could be anything. And I had to get her out of my taxi as soon as possible. The longer she stayed in my car, the greater were the chances of my doom.

'Mr. Frost will find me even if I stay in a hotel. I can't go to the police. I don't have anywhere to go!' She muddled the rest of the thing to herself.

.....

With no other alternative in my hands, I did the unthinkable. I would never have done anything close to that if I had even a little bit of sanity left in me. Had I known that the deal I was making with her was bloody, I would never have made any deal with her that night.

But I did what I did. And there was no going back.