Mr. Conrad“Comrade Conrad.” A shaky voice called me from behind as I filed in with my friends, all of us holding our golf clubs in firm grips while chatting and laughing at those of us who performed terribly badly in the tournaments. One of us was making mockery of another, citing the fella’s poor performance in the past, and another was cracking himself up with laughter when the call came. I turned to see who it was, and there he was, standing between his son and daughter, all of them dressed in white T-shirts and brown trousers, paired with white shoes and white caps. “Kennedy,” I hollered, drawing every other person’s attention to us. He wobbled to meet me, and as he closed in, I spread my hands wide and wrapped him up in a hug. His children joined us, both smiling. His son was slightly older than Adam, and from what I knew of him, he loved playing with us, not with the young men. While the daughter, I believe Kennedy brought her here to find her a suitor. She looks more like h

Adam SmithNight came fast after a quiet drive back to the estate. A light lunch kept us going till the maids knocked on my door to announce that they had brought the designated outfit for the dinner. Rosa received the neat package and shut the door while I lay in bed, playing with a golf ball I brought home from the golf course. Rosa took the package to the sofa by the window and laid it out while I watched her spotless body gleaming through her see-through nightwear. We hadn’t touched each other since we returned from the hospital, and I had never thought of it, but not now. Her spotless legs now looked too attractive to ignore, but a part of me was unsure what business I had with her before the accident, and the reason why Grandfather, James, and Maria were clearly not comfortable having her around me. Why was she fighting so hard to remain by my side, and why were they keeping mute rather than pouring out their minds? Maybe everything she ever told me was true, or they were ke

MariaI have a role assigned to me by Mr. Conrad. That role is just one thing: deciding what clothes Adam and the rest of the Smith estate wear for special functions. Even Rosa was part of my responsibility. I always chose the best brands and styles and assigned the maids to pass them around, but even though Adam always showed up in the designated attire, Rosa always showed up differently. She loved to flaunt her spotless legs, her angelic beauty, and her wonderful figure. Yes, Mr. Conrad condemns her mode of dressing, but I feel he hasn’t done enough. I want him to snuff her out of the story. I want her done away with, but someone, everyone, is scared of acting rashly, because if she could make him abandon the estate and all his inheritance and flee with her to New York City some years ago, she could do worse if care is not taken. “Handle this with care, you,” I said to the maid standing before me as I handed her a package of Adam’s clothes for the dinner. I had carefully selecte

Adam SmithThe music in the second hall, otherwise called the ballroom, was different. Stewards were waiting with trays of wine glasses for whoever was in to drink themselves to stupor, but people barely gave attention to the stewards and what they had on the trays. “The man of the night should open the floor,” one of the old men hollered. I took a breath and stretched my hand out for Rosa, who was standing beside me. She placed her soft hand into mine, and together, we stepped onto the dance floor, my hand holding her waist and her slightly raised hand, while her head rested over my shoulder. More couples joined us. They were mostly young men swapping their sisters with other young men. Soon, the dance floor was full of young couples dancing, while the older ones watched and whispered among themselves. One of the old men drifted to the stewards. He took a glass of wine from the trays and guzzled every drop without breathing. He dropped the now empty glass on the tray and grabbed

Mr. Conrad“Your grandson is a good dancer, Conrad,” a voice behind me rose amidst the loud music and the loud cheering of the young dancers doing their thing on the dance floor with so much energy.I turned slowly to meet Kennedy standing behind me, dressed in an expensive tuxedo, his fingers clasped around the stem of a slim glass of sparkling wine. I forced a smile and offered him a handshake, knowing he had come not for the dinner party, but for the matter at hand; his niece.He passed the glass to his son and shook hands with me, then I led him out of the hall. We did not utter a word to each other even as we strolled past the dining hall.I led him outside the mansion and stopped by the garden. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed an unsaved number while Kennedy watched in silence.“Sir?”“Come.”“Okay, sir.”I returned the phone to my pocket, drew out a breath and released it while waiting. Kennedy, now looking impatient, decided to speak up.“Who did y