The Mafia Hidden Heirloom

CHAPTER 2 - Wanderer

JUNE THIRD

The door opened, interrupting the light sleep I was able to get, which started only about sunrise. It's been two days since I was brought here, relentless had me been a guarded sleeper despite the dimness of the room, waking up at any slight movement my brain believed to hear. That it's becoming paranoia.

I terrifyingly sat up immediately, clenching the cover, although I was modestly dressed, still in the dress I wore to dinner last night. Some brunette walked in, freshly dressed in a knee-length gown and flat shoes. She had a compassionate smile on her face while staring at my discombobulated figure.

"Good morning, Ma'am," she greeted, holding a notepad around her arm, as she approached the bed I was on, which was set quite a distance from the door in the spacious room. "I am Grace, your assistant."

"Assistant? You work for the master?" I curiously asked at the news. "Where is he?"

Her eyes thinned amusedly at me, as her smile widened even more.

"Do you mean Mister Gutenberg?" she corrected.

I doubt I can call him that. Reese said to be obedient.

Embarrassed, I bit my lip, holding back the blush.

"I suppose, him." I nodded.

"Something urgent came up. He is off for a while. And while he's not here, I will guide you through the schedules Mister Gutenberg had arranged for you to enjoy your time on your own," she informed me.

She seems to know him well.

"Does he do this often?"

"What?" She asked me from the foot of the bed.

"Abandon his house?" It's not something Reese would ever do, to make sure everything is in order. But I guess Master already has men who do the work even in his absence.

"He is a busy man; he travels often," she informed me, and for some reason, I think I felt a weight lifted from me.

I let go of the cover I was clenching with all my life, and curiously inquired to know the length of my freedom, "For how long?"

"The minimum a week, the max? Six months."

My eyes expanded.

That means I get to have peace of mind.

"He left a phone for you to call him anytime," she held it over to me, and in wonder, I collected the nice device, that I've only seen from afar.

Who knew I would ever get a phone of myself? It's so beautiful, not even like those of Reese and her two partners. This one was shiny and glassy.

"I do not know how to use it," I muttered, looking up at Grace.

"It doesn't matter. I can make the calls and appointments for you," she offered.

"I know you will want to..." Excitedly looking down at the device in my hand, wishing I could go back to the orphanage just to show the girls what I had. "But I would like to know how to operate it myself."

"That could be arranged. I will teach you how to use it then." I wasn't looking at her but I could take notice of the hint of a smile in her tone when she said that.

"Thank you." I was so excited I couldn't take my eyes away from the mobile phone.

"Now, you need to get ready; the eye doctor is here."

Okay, that got my attention.

"Eye Doctor?"

"Mister Gutenberg said you've been indoors for a while, and he believes you need a doctor before you should be exposed to the light."

"Is it necessary?" I asked her, I feel alright.

"I do not know. Mister Gutenberg makes it appear a priority. Are you an introvert?" She curiously asked.

Silently I shook my head, in agreement, rather than opening up to a stranger.

"That shouldn't affect your eyes much as Mister Gutenberg believes it would. But we will do as he wants to avoid bothering him. I promise that's the only boring thing on our schedules, maybe opening a bank account too but we will make the best of it." She announced to me as her eyes skimmed through the page of the notepad.

"I will get a bank account? Why?"

This is getting weirder and weirder.

"Because you need it, I suppose." I do not know why Grace almost laughed. Is not like I am wrong to ask why they're going all these lengths for unnecessary things.

"I think when I will find a job, I can do that myself."

"I do not think you understand, Ma'am—" Grace began when I interrupted her.

"Please call me June Third." I plead, and her expression softened.

"Okay, June Third." She smiled excitedly.

"And you can sit. After all, from your words, it seems we are stuck with each other." I point out, and fold my legs, tapping the mattress for her.

Grace agreed, she lowered to the bed, at the other end, and watched me with a faint smile on her face.

"Does Duncan stay here too or do the boys travel with their father too?" I curiously asked her after a moment.

"The twins go to college, so they barely travel much."

"Colten and Duncan are twins?" I gaped, interested.

"No, I meant brothers. I don't know why I said that." She exhaled a small embarrassed laugh and apologized, "They're not even closer in age."

"How old are they?"

"Duncan is almost twenty-seven. He's done with his master's degree and is pursuing a doctoral degree in the AeonSphere Center for Advanced Research. Quite successful and charming for his age. Therefore, he handles the family business most of the time. He's likely the golden and favorite son. And he's so agreeable and loyal at least to his father. Mister Gutenberg is clearly proud of him. Colten is a good boy too. He's twenty-one and in his final year at LuxeVeritas University. It's just that he's young and full of life; sometimes he can be a lot, but I am sure he's also full of potential. I hope he will be like his brother too, calm and collected." She informed me.

"What about their mother?" I probed since there was no thought I had raked my brain about that made a reasonable sense to the situation I ended up in, getting married to their father soon.

Colten must hate me even more.

"She died when Colten was two, and then since, Duncan has tried his best to look after him," Grace shook her head, and I could see she had pity in her expression.

Now that's even worse. I am taking their mother's place. A place I don't even want.

"So they are here? Duncan and Colten?" I curiously asked her.

"Yes, you three will have meals together, I suppose, but only if you want to." The way she added that I do have a choice to opt out seems suspicious, but I didn't ask questions about it. "And since you will also start college soon, I guess you will come across each other on campus." Grace read from the notepad.

"College?" Okay, that's too much. "I do not even have a high school diploma. I know nothing." There's no way I can catch up without any foundation.

"Mister Gutenberg is a very well-known man. This family is nothing you can ever imagine. They're powerful. To be getting married to Brian Gutenberg, you will have everything life will offer," she told me as I gaped at her.

My head lowered to my fingers, and I inwardly huffed. "What are you saying?"

"You will have everything..."

"I sense a 'but' in this," I muttered.

Grace stared at me for a while before she shook her head, no.

"Can you call Master then?" I held out my phone to her.

Her expression changed, almost dissatisfied. "It is not noon," she reminded.

"Why does it have to be noon exactly? What if it's an emergency?"

"Maybe where he is at the moment, the time difference makes it that way. And yes, only in an emergency, but we have it covered."

"It is an emergency. Please call him." I pleaded.

Grace wasn't happy with it, but she obliged and took the phone from me, tapping the screen until it started ringing.

The call was picked up on the first ring, and she held it to her ear.

"Good day, Mister Gutenberg. It is Miss June who wants to speak with you," she said.

There was silence. All the while as she listened to what he was saying from the small speakers, my heart was beating wildly, wondering what his response was.

"I know." She nodded, swallowing. The change in her demeanor and body language was hard to ignore. "She said it's an emergency." She said after a bit. "Yes, she's here." She added while I curiously watched her. "Okay."

She held out the phone to me, and I took a deep breath before taking it.

Pressing it to my ear, I mumbled a small "Hello."

"June, I hope everything is alright?" He concernedly queried.

"I uhm... I am. It is." I stuttered.

"Okay, that's a relief." He laughed in the receiver. "So what's this emergency that couldn't wait? Or do you already miss me?"

I cringed at the reminder that he was the man I was getting married to, the man whose ring he gave me was on the nightstand, next to me. Swallowing down the hard pill, I cleared my throat, changing the direction of the topic to the college situation and he managed to convince me of it.

The phone call ended, and I suggested going with Grace to the kitchen to have something for breakfast before taking a bath and meeting with the eye doctor, who will be here not very long, as Grace said.

"Wait, what was that?" She rushed over, panicking and clasping my hand in hers. It took me a moment to process what had her all worried until I noticed her eyes examining my wrist.

I yanked my hand abruptly, turning pale and breathless. I grabbed the bracelet from the nightstand and wore it over the fresh cut, sliding the ring onto my finger too.

"It's nothing," I mumbled, avoiding her eyes to keep her from seeing through me.

"You sure? Doesn't that need treatment?"

"It's just a scratch. I got it from the zipper of my hoodie," I lied.

I could sense she wasn't buying the lie. Her stare remained on me, and it was making me nervous.

To change the topic, I looked around and found a pair of soft flat shoes ready by the foot of my bed. I get out of bed, and slip into them, moaning at the warmth they provided, before leaving the room with her.

She presses a button, and two doors slid open, revealing a confined room.

"What's this, though?" I asked, hesitant to join her inside.

She stared at me suspiciously. "You've never been in an elevator before?" she sounded accusative. I guess this is something I am supposed to know.

"Of course, I do," I rephrased and slowly step in.

"If you have a phobia for small places we can follow the stairs," she suggested.

Before the door could close, I slid outside.

"Yes, I do," I retorted, and she heaved sigh.

The house was mostly quiet, but there were maids and guards, only they did their jobs quietly, patrolling around and cleaning without barely making a sound.

The house was big, smelled nice, and was exceptionally luxurious, hard to believe it existed on earth after spending my entire eighteen years in the orphanage on a mini-size mattress.

While my eyes continued to wander around the view of the house, gaping in awe as we came to the first floor where the kitchen should be, Grace was on a call, making arrangements for a make-up team for me.

"Just get out, Melissa."

"Stop pushing me away. You need me even if you do not want to admit it. I will love you even though you can't love yourself." A girl's voice yelled back, equally loud but croaky.

I stopped in my tracks, tempted to follow the path where the noise was coming from, letting Grace walk ahead as she was lost in her own conversation on the phone.

"When will you stop fooling yourself? I do not want you. Stop throwing yourself at me. Don't you have some dignity?" He grumbled, his harsh voice vibrating through the walls.

It was Duncan. I could smell him, his anger, his danger, his fierceness, his disrespect.

I followed the corner, coming to an open room, made of well-worn leather chairs by the fireplace, with multiple scary animal mounts above it.

There he was. His black long sleeves rolled up, his hands on his hips. He looked frantic, glaring at a red-haired young woman who was pacing back and forth before him.

She stopped as if some realization had settled in her head, and she walked to him, placing her hand around his waist, and she pushed up on her toes, clearly intending to kiss him. She was tall, taller than me. The kind of height that looks good on a woman with such a body, slender and perfect.

Duncan seized her hands from him, clasping her wrists in a tense grip, shooting her a warning glare.

"Why don't you know when to stop." He gritted in her face.

"June Third, there you are." s**t.

Paled, I glanced at Grace, coming towards me after she had realized she lost me somewhere while she was on the phone call. The phone is that I was sneaking on some people, and now with a crimson face, I humiliatingly spun towards the two silently growling at me.

"Is she a psycho?" The girl ragefully stomped her feet. "Can't you see we are having a private conversation? Does seeing us together excite you? You want in for a threesome?"

"I am so—sorry," I uttered, but I do not know why it wasn't audible. If eyes could kill, Duncan's eyes would be assassins.

"Get lost." The girl blurted.

I don't think this time Duncan was coming over to connect our lips.

"With due respect, I won't allow you to talk to Mr. Gutenberg's fiancée in such a manner," Grace said in my motionless state.

"What?" The girl looked over to Duncan, who hadn't stopped glaring at me with widened terrifying eyes and hadn't said a word either, as though if he spoke, a storm of fire would flow through his throat. A vein bulged around his neck, and his hand was clenched in a balled fist, just like yesterday.

He was a million times angrier than he was while he was in an argument with his girlfriend. His chest was rising and falling, seemingly about to explode.

Just great.

I took that chance, while everyone was quiet, to run away from the scene, as anxiety had gotten to me, and adding another minute under those menacing eyes, I could have fainted.

While I sped down the hall, I couldn't help the thought of how I kept making myself an enemy to the boys who clearly wanted me out of their lives, something I would give anything to be free of.

DUNCAN

"So what do you think about it? Come at me with your honest opinion," I asked, turning my back to the few men patrolling around below the balcony. I stared at the pile of papers on the table in front of me – some from work, some for school, and some unread letters I wouldn't be able to get to this week.

There was a momentary silence on Professor Dakota Poulse's end. I knew the phone call was still ongoing. She was probably processing what I said and thinking about her response. After all, she wasn't just my dissertation advisor; she was my aunt.

She sighed finally. Hearing that meant it was not good, and that there was a lot of criticism on her tongue.

"Okay, if you say so." She exhaled loudly, and anxiety took hold of my being. "While your dissertation provides a comprehensive analysis of the market trend..." Here we go. I could hear the 'but' loudly before it was uttered.

I dropped back into the armchair on my balcony, my eyes shutting at the pain in my head and the pain her words were about to add to my frustration.

She continues with the criticism while I face the laptop. There was incoming replies from Bitsko regarding Romeo Schupp, a police officer and another email from Rawle came in before I could take my eyes from the screen.

Rawle: There's no important report from Lumière Gulf. Derrick Golec is solely on vacation on his island. Our undercover investigators had strong surveillance, but the only contact he had with anyone other than his wife and kids was giving out a pack of bottled water to a typical man who'd been a shoemaker for twelve years. I think it's a dead end.

When my aunt was done telling the right and wrong of what I have sent to her, I was depleted, I could only sigh. I barely have nine months left for graduation, that's if I'm able to wrap everything up. My defense is very soon, given the submission time is closing in on me. I had five good years, and I still couldn't modify my research flawlessly.

"Okay, uhm... I will look through it again." I wasn't feeling particularly enthusiastic about it, mostly after Rawle's fruitless investigation.

I've reached a phase of striving for perfection to mental fatigue, where I've lost perspective and aim for any additional detail and research. Scribbling is getting frustrating. Low key, I'm losing my mind.

"Duncan, whatever is ahead of you, you have to put a pause on it and focus solely on your dissertation. Your final year requires all your time. We did this last year and the year before. You keep dragging time for your graduation, and I know you can do it, it's just that you're not focused. You're chained by the ankles, running Gutenberg Frontier Holdings, and it's holding you back from wrapping up your study."

"I know, Aunty Dakota," I mumbled, taking a deep breath and grabbing the laptop. I began typing back to Rawle.

Me: It can't be. He knows something. I don't care who he is, get him here to me. I'll get the information from him, one way or another. If he wants the hard way, we'll do it the hard way. Even if it means shipping him in a bloody body sack.

Pushing the send button, I shoved the laptop aside. I was too stressed, and I might need a break.

My eyes closed, trying to breathe and recompose, but instead, I was reminded about the ongoing phone call with my aunt when her voice snapped me out of the brief quiet.

"Do I need to call Brian about this?" She sounded stern, rousing me from my inner meditation.

Combing my fingers through my hair, I sighed, chewing back my nerves. "It's not necessary."

"He should know your three-year study dragged to five because of his company demanding your time."

The laptop chimed on my lap. Rawle: Okay, sir.

Exhaling, I started, "Aunty, I promised you I would graduate this year, didn't I? When I don't, you can confront him, but now just have faith in me."

Hush fell temporarily. I knew she wasn't happy about it. She had never been happy about the circumstances, but she didn't know the whole story.

"Okay, enough of school stuff. I'm not that aunt who is scolding all the time," she said. "Tell me how you're doing and how's Colten. That boy had forgotten about my existence entirely. Is he still fighting?"

"I don't think so. He is half-focused for his final year too."

"And half?" She questioned.

"Furious at Father."

"When is he not furious at your Father?" She remarked, given Colten's behavior is consistently ordinary.

"I think this time he may have the right."

"What did Brian do again? Don't tell me he hit him." She retorted worriedly.

"No, not that. He brought home a fiancée he's set to wed before the elections." Explaining it alone burned my throat, as it weighed gnawed at my spirit.

"He's getting married?" She blurted out surprisedly. "To who? How?"

"A very young girl, likely underage. She looks like a featherless chicken."

"Uh, Duncan, this must be hard for you."

"I don't care, honestly. Father is not a child; he can do what he desires."

"You know you can feel bad about it, though," she reminded me.

"Aunt, it's really not my business. I have better things to worry about. The world doesn't only revolve around Father's love life." I dismissed.

"And the girl? Does she want this? I know Brian with his way of getting everything he wants."

The girl! Yes.

Fuck! Why did she have to be at my door at the wrong time, the other day?

"She's just a typical girl who's after my father's power and will take any degrading deal to have chauffeurs following her and enough money for shopping. After all, she could be the First Lady. She can never be decent. Young? Yes, but she's aware of what she's doing," I spat despite my effort to ignore my emotions. I mean she stood there and let me kiss her. If she had one decent bone in her body, she would've shoved me and told me she's my father's beloved, but no! She stood there and enjoyed the moment.

So much greed, she wants my father and clearly, the other extra bonuses.

The thing I said about being in control? Well, it's going down for the first time in my life, and it started ever since Father's ridiculous idea of getting married now.

I won't say I am terrified because I never know what being terrified feels like, but now I have this strange surge of adrenaline, hypersensitivity, awareness of wrong things, loss of control that's rare, and a knot in my stomach that might be panic.

"So you do not agree with the idea."

"Even if I don't agree, it's not something I would bother myself to inquire about and try to rectify," I replied thoughtfully.

"I will call your father."

"Well then, I better get back to revision."

"Yes, you better," Aunty Dakota playfully responds in all seriousness. "I love you."

"I know," I said, ending the call abruptly. I saw the number of missed calls; I just didn't have the time to entertain it before breakfast. I tossed my phone onto the table with a sigh of frustration. Without another thought, I rose from my seat and made my way to the elegant marble balustrade. Leaning heavily against it, I placed both hands on the cool surface and took a deep breath, desiring for solace.

My bedroom is a luxurious hideaway. From here on the spacious balcony that offers a stunning view, I can see our beautiful home gardens bursting with colors and fragrances. There's a sparkling swimming pool below, perfect for lazy afternoons, but unfortunately, lazy afternoons barely come around here.

On the horizon, a lush forest extends, its towering trees swaying in the breeze. And beyond that, a serene river winds its way, glistening like a silver ribbon.

This place is my slice of paradise, where I can unwind and connect with the beauty of the world right outside my window, after long nights like last night.

Sadly enough, my wish for solace couldn't be granted, as Melissa's arms encircled my body, enveloping me in a warm embrace from behind.

I thought we were over. I made that clear.

"What are you doing here?" I scolded, disentangling her hands from my body. "We talked last night. It's settled."

"You talked; I didn't agree to it," she folded her arms over her chest.

"Well, you have to. I don't want to be together anymore."

She exhaled a laugh.

"Can you repeat that to our parents?" Her tongue rolled around her cheek, thinking she had power over me. I didn't reply, nor flinched. Nothing about her scares me.

When she waited long enough, she folded her arms around her chest, "Look, I know you lied about that girl. Colten said she's betrothed to Uncle Brian."

Fucking Colten.

"I don't think you seem to understand, I am my father. If your father wants to talk, it's me he would see." I sardonically reminded her before grabbing my phone, closing the laptop with purpose, and then retreating from the bedroom.

Down the staircase, I went, seeking solitude, and eventually finding myself in the lodge lounge. With measured steps, I made my way to the well-stocked bar cart, and I carefully poured a modest measure of rum. The amber liquid swirled gently in the glass, and I took a sip, the warm, rich flavor mingling with the empty sensation in my stomach.

Footsteps arrived in the room and came to a halt right behind me, as I was facing the backyard through the double glass door.

"What are you doing? Drinking your way to forget me?" She pulled my arm. I still wouldn't turn; I just took another sip.

I hate that she doesn't take no for an answer. The solution is to ignore her; she will get tired and leave.

"I killed our child just for you to find it convenient to be freed from me and started hooking up with some little girls."

Okay, she's really going in that direction?

"Melissa, stop it." I fiercely replied, facing her with wrath, that if she's wise, she will let it go and leave.

"What? I shouldn't state the truth? Is it no coincidence that you waited to break up with me after the abortion? You've always wanted to leave; you just wanted to make sure you did with your ankles freed from me." She grumbled.

"I didn't ask you to kill any child. I am sure I pleaded for you to keep the pregnancy and only spoke those words when you made it clear you're just too good for motherhood. Aren't those your words?" I retorted, "Do not blame me ever for what I can't force you to do, for your lies and scheming."

"Really, Duncan?" She breathed shakily.

"I told you I have things to take care of."

"So it's official, I'm shoved aside because you're playing personal protector to your father's childish fiancee? Does it come with kissing bonuses too?" She mocked.

"Just get out, Melissa."

"Stop pushing me away. You need me even if you do not want to admit it. I will love you even though you can't love yourself." She yelled back, choking with tears, but equally loud as I was.

Does she want pity? She should know me enough to know I don't get entertained by that.

"When will you stop fooling yourself? I do not want you. Stop throwing yourself at me. Don't you have some dignity?"

She tore her teary eyes from me and began pacing in the room for a few moments, enough to blink away the tears before stopping abruptly and walking to me. Her hands circled around my waist, and she lifted to her toes, begging for a kiss.

Now it's getting pathetic. I carried her hands off me, clasping onto her wrists to keep them away from me, hoping she would take the cue.

"Why don't you know when to stop?" I gritted, leaning towards her face.

"Because I know you more than anyone. You are just mad at your father. Not me." Her voice was suddenly different.

She might be telling the—

"June Third, there you are." A peculiar, disembodied voice echoed from the entrance, immediately capturing my attention. And there, bathed in an aura of intensity, was that striking shock of blond hair...

The hair on my body stood on end. I released Melissa's hand , my gaze lingering on the girl standing by the open door as I waited for her to turn around.

Now she's sneaking up on me? Why not go find her future husband?

Abruptly, she twirled toward the room, her face flushed with a deep crimson hue.

"Is she a psycho?" Melissa exclaimed. "Can't you see we are having a private conversation? Does seeing us together excite you? You want in for a threesome?"

I wanted to shut her up, but a voice in my head said to enjoy the discomfort in that young girl's face.

"I am so—sorry," Dad's girlfriend stammered, or should I say, dearest stepmother.

Of all the girls father could find, it's this little thing he brought, wandering aimlessly in our home and kissing his sons.

Well, I'm mainly to blame, but still, why didn't she stop me? She entertained it.

"Get lost," Melissa blurted, and she flinched in fear, defenseless. I bet she's definitely going to run away and cry in some corner.

"With due respect, I won't allow you to talk to Mr. Gutenberg's fiancee in such a manner," Some woman came to her aid.

"What?" Melissa scoffed, looking over at me. I can't deal with this either.

And just as I predicted, the young girl ran away to go cry somewhere.

"Uncle sure can be unpredictable. What is she? Sixteen?" Melissa exhaled an exasperated laugh, pulling her hair.

"Eighteen," I corrected her.

"Okay, she might be legally old, but she's still not a fit for Mister Gutenberg. She's a child," Melissa remarked.

"Why don't you go tell him?" I raised my brows, questioningly, and walked past her towards the exit. "Just leave, Melissa. I'm heading to the ship."

"Duncan?" She brattily called after me, stomping her heels, but I did not intend to entertain her brattish behavior.