Deceitful Desires: A Billionaire's Betrayal

Chapter three

“Isaac, why must you always speed through the amazing journey of life, leaving chaos behind?” She scolded, disappointment and frustration oozing from her voice.

“You’ve hurt me with your thoughtless moves,” she added.

“Long story short, I am careless, and it is none of your business, old lady." Instead of feeling sorry or regretful about what she had said, he just gave her a nasty stare and made a sound against her to show his disapproval.

The heart of Marianne drowned in deep pain when she heard such an impudent response coming from that boy who dared call her an old woman, hence showing neither respect nor caution.

Seeing her brother, who was very much younger than her by fifteen years, speak to her in such a condescending and dismissive tone actually really upset her; it was a situation no less than sad.

It was evident that this kind of behavior needed to be dealt with through understanding and communication, which is why Marianne felt that it was her duty to act on this issue that had arisen between them.

“Now please clean up the mess you’ve made,” she instructed him firmly, her tone lingering in the air as she expected him to comply.

When faced with the situation at hand, instead of taking immediate action to fix it as suggested, he shows up as an untruthful boy who bursts into tears, making loud cries resembling those of an innocent person mercilessly beaten by an invisible force.

He has undoubtedly little sympathy for them, but it only shows how much he cares about himself.

As planned, these cries grated Karen’s nerves, making their way over hills and valleys before reaching the ears of this child’s mother, who darted unexpectedly to the scene, overcrowding it.

Without delay or even asking what had happened, she made a snap judgment based on motherhood instincts. Karen was consumed by anger when looking at how brave this woman could be for attempting to harm her precious son. To her, the criminal represented all the evil that lacked tenderness and warmth in the world.

This wicked person wanted to make a scene, and particularly Marianna, who is a young and inexperienced lady who does not know how the world works yet, was scared.

The young lady and her soul were actively harassed by a bully, whose apparent nemesis was torture in all its forms.

"Wow, you attempted to slap my sensitive son Marianna; you are completely evil. My dear boy is a child of tender age, and all you do is abuse. You’ll see me change that today."

Karen, who was so determined not to let the situation go unsolved, was assured to get justice and ensure that the predator faced the consequences of his actions.

With every move that the woman made, the air was charged with her resolve to alter the wrong that had been done to her and spare her son from any more harm.

But just as Karen was preparing to express all of her anger towards the culprit, a sound broke through the thick mist.

“What is this? What is happening here?” A loud voice of man, full of authority and worry, echoed through the house, stopping the aggression that was about to ensue and asking for an explanation for the disorder that had occurred.

Mr. Michael had a voice that was so loud, rowdy, and disruptive that everyone could feel that it could even ring through distances and miles, that they could not lose the sound and its vibrations without feeling its presence despite miles of physical space in between.

Karen left her ongoing task the moment she was exposed to high-pitched and obnoxious sounds from Mr. Michael’s voice and went to console her crying baby, whose crying did not cease immediately. The child’s tears were bitter and painful, dragging Karen’s heart, and the baby needed his mother for consolation.

"Finally, you are back at the right time when I badly needed a person like you here,” she exclaimed out loud, which demonstrates how relieved and happy she is to have the needed person present at the right time.

“This girl, who is your daughter, actually controlled this poor, innocent boy physically. But why does she behave like this? It shows how much fatigue her attitude brings. Something must be done right away. It seems that she has lived here too long after all, and instead still causes pain and turmoil to the legitimate heir of this family,” were her precise words, as though they were meant to be taken into account.

He became furious and said,

"How dare you hit him?"

So, in anger and with a rising temper, speaking indignantly, Mr. Michael, having heard the threats of the other person to strike a child, scolded her for her lack of shame.

Everyone was quiet as he looked directly into the eyes of the culprit, who had to give reasons as to why she resorted to violence.

He was fuming and shocked by such an evil act of a soul as he attempted to get to the heart of why she would be capable of such an act.

A manifested desire for fairness appeared to originate from one’s soul, and he stood tall in support of the aggrieved.

And at that moment, at that very point, which was the most vital point in the confrontation, the air that surrounded him became charged as if the words that he uttered were bullets.

The interest that he demonstrated in handling the suspect was enough to convince others of his commitment to the fight for the good against the evil that dominates society.

It is as if existence’s tape pulled back at the pitch of his anger, thereby shaping the narrative of the encounter to fit the given and thereby avoiding ambiguities as to what would ensue.

Hearing the father, she exclaimed, ‘I didn’t, father...’

The sheer physicality of the man was imposing; it reminded everyone that he was not a man to be trifled with if one disrespected the boundaries of morality and decency that were set by a man like him.

“Utter nonsense; you should go ahead and apologize to him at once.”

At least in that scene, a positive character, Mr. Michael, was represented as a man of high moral principles who does not bend the rules regardless of the circumstances.

Marianna could not believe her ears, and as she looked at her father, she was flooded with shock that was making her unable to do anything.

The details of the condition are complicated. How could he expect her to make an apology when she had not been given an opportunity to explain to him the details of the condition?

She could not help but wonder if he was intentionally ignoring the most important aspects of the tale, leaving her speechless and confused.

"So you are quite, huh? Do you want me to help open that filthy mouth of yours?" He charged again, with the intensity of a raging bull ready to charge and conquer the calcified fortress behind her closed lips, as if charged with the mission of unveiling the great discovery hidden behind her silence, the great secret rendezvous waiting to be unlocked.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out immediately, her words apologetic and her tone regretful, as if she realized that she had caused a rift between them and now was determined to somehow smooth it over, just as the faint light of a lamp can illuminate a house after a power outage, bringing hope that something is still okay even when the rest of the world is dark.

Besides, her father has a good, powerful voice, and at the same time, he has a boiling sea of passion and anger within him, which she has to face and does not wish to sink into.

This simple idea of becoming one of his victims leaves her chills with fear, and at the same time, it ignites a fiery passion to stay away from disturbing his storms.

Looking rather indignant at the girl and refusing to budge over his stand, the young boy retorted, “No, I do declare that it is only just and right for her to compensate me for the tea that she carelessly spilled.”

Mr. Michael looked up with a somewhat mischievous glint in his eyes, studying her elegant dance-like manner as she quickly disappeared into the warm, private space of their room, the atmosphere charged with expectation.

Within a few minutes, she came back with a single cup of tea that seemed to be steaming gently and hugged it as if the cup contained a priceless treasure, and the warm scent of the tea floated around her in the air as if it were a secret.

She held the cup out towards the young boy, the smile never leaving her face, as if offering affection and support, which was stopped abruptly in its tracks by the mother’s hands, reaching forward to take it from her instantly. The mother and the girl exchanged a glance of apprehension and hatred.

“Let me first taste it before you poison my poor child,” she retorted in a sneer.

She had determined not to let the premeditated cup of tea spoil with such burnt, loamy-tasting take the innocent youthfulness of someone who did not know whether or not toxic poison could have been put into it.

This is evident from her scornful face, which betrayed some doubt and grudgingness directed at the person who offered it.

Then she took it up with an inclination toward superiority, paused for a moment, and inhaled before letting it touch her mouth.

A little smile appeared on her lips as she engaged in this savory act, just as if it were one too leveled towards life itself.

Unlike friendly Marianna, who was keeping still in a humble position all through this time, keeping away from the tension in-between, her rather precious gesture had a power reason for that moment.

Her tilting downward is releasing herself so that one already knows it and silently accepts what happens without feeling like saying anything about it.

The enveloping silence served as a barrier, protecting her from the coming storm of feelings. It allowed her to shrink into herself for reflection and to be alone with her own thoughts. The exchange of the two women's eyes that appeared challenging, similar in speed to the solitary dance movement that they seemed to inhabit, meant that both societies met halfway. As with unspoken language, but she refused to be intimidated by it.

"It's dreadful hot! Possibly you are to inflict a heated mouth problem on him. You persist in harming him with a determined steadiness."

“Meanwhile, please reserve it for him, because before long it will start getting cold,” Mr. Michael interjected smoothly, his voice soft and warm.

Mr. Michael used his calm, patronizing voice over hers; was he not naturally gentle and soothing, or was this only mimicked and artificial?

As he turned, he saw Marianna, who was as still as stone, her gaze drawing them to her, forcing them to look, if only for a second.

"Go away already. Stop standing there like we owe you something," he barked.

The earth around him held its breath for his next words to ring out and disturb it. A mix of frustration and command, a consonant anger full of things unsaid.

With a quick flick of her foot, she was gone. Like a cornered rabbit, wild for flight, her heart was quite out of her breast in fear of being overtaken.

Her scurrying departure was so rapid that she came out of sight before anyone could blink an eye.

Underneath her every move, the mouse was so leggy. Her fear-yellow eyes shining wild behind her, the dangers of freedom, the secrets of argent and plumose, were shadows that came down off the lettered screen, crept into her air, her walking.