Married to my Ex-wife's boss

The Mission

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

“Dad, you know you're putting me in the spot,” Roseline cried out, eyes growing red with desperation and hair scattered by too much hair scratching.

She paced around the room, eyes moving everywhere and taking in details she had seen multiple times.

Her father's office was grand and decorated as best as it could fit a president. It was in monotone, all white. It sometimes gave her an eye pain to look everywhere.

Today wasn't an exception. Her eyeballs felt like they were being squeezed like a stress ball by a giant.

But she couldn't stop visiting the office. It was the only place she had frequently ever shown her weakness. It was the only place where she could cry freely.

Maybe because it was the only place that kept making her cry; that kept breaking her spirit and making her sad.

Or it could be that her father, the mastermind of all heartlessness, was the one who kept giving out difficult tasks that broke her heart.

“Roseline, I've given you enough time. How difficult is it to fight for your family?” Her father berated in a low voice even with the room securely soundproofed.

His careless nature had never been seen. He took care to keep it hidden.

She could only remember him being carefree not more than five times in her childhood. And that was only when he was playing love with his wife, her mother.

Since it had never been frequent, she killed the possibility of having him being carefree around her, of having him okay with her.

She had given herself many excuses for his behavior but he had never changed. And the excuse had never been credible.

He always watched his back when speaking. Never to be seen, lifting his voice. Sometimes, Roseline thought that it was a consideration for people around.

Maybe, trying not to constitute a nuisance during conversations. But as she grew older and started carrying the weight of his secret tasks, she knew that it was nothing like consideration.

It had been something else, something sinister.

When she had realized that it hadn't been a consideration but something else, she first of all thought it was secrecy.

But lately, the kind of tasks she had to carry out were so fearsome that she woke up with chills every morning and went to bed with the heaviest of dread in her heart.

She realized that that could be the reason. Her father was afraid. He was afraid of being caught; of his crazy tasks, soiling his name and that of his master.

He was just being careful to cover his ugly tracks. But she couldn't hate him. He was all he had and he had give her all he could; taught her all he knew.

“We've all done our part. It's left for you to do yours too” his voice wasn't higher than a fierce whisper. She had to concentrate well to hear it.

“Your mom did hers, God bless her memory,” he went on without much feeling, voice firmer than could be. “She died a martyr. She died on the task and has earned her respect.

“So you want me to die like her?” Tears dropped from her eyes, the desperation couldn't be held in any longer.

“You'll be so happy to bury your only daughter?” Her voice was now shaking with sobs. She knew it was a lie. She could read the love in his hollow eyes.

He might not have loved her mom but he sure did love her and had protected her the way he could.

He had been there for her through thick and thin, although the ‘thin’ was mostly his doing. But she still appreciated him.

However, that didn't stop her from putting all the blames on him. This wasn't the life she had intended living. This wasn't what she wanted.

What happened to the rosy life she had planned for herself, the forever she wanted for herself?

“This is not the time for tears,” he chastised her, his voice falling to a normal speaking tone; his normal tone every other day.

“I know you can do this and come out unscathed,” he said, finally standing from his swivel office chair and letting his voluminous belly to fall downwards.

“I believe in you,” he walked towards her, arms outstretched. “You're as strong as I am, even stronger,” she accepted the invitation, fell into his arms and sobbed quietly.

Her entire body racked with the feelings of hurt that flowed through her. She was at a dead end.

“It will all be fine. Who knows, you might even enjoy it; have your own love story to reminisce about,” Roseline immediately threw herself out of his embrace, eyes bloodshot and lips ready to spill.

“What an easy thing to say for a psychopath that has never had love before,” she spat out, the tear streaks on her makeup face giving her wild look a plus.

“I agree,” he responded softly, almost back in his whisper.

“But you have five years of love to yourself and even a chance to get revenge,” he said with a smile; the smile she had come to detest with all her heart.

That smile that made her expect the worst. The very smile that had the power to always downplay her feelings and emotions.

“Then I'll have to kill him, don't I?” She sniffled, but with a strong expression on.

“Technically, yes. But that'll be in five years time,” he replied in a whisper, motioning for her to take her voice down.

“Marrying David has been your dream, hasn't it?” He asked, looking into her tear waddled eyes, taking it in with pain but deciding not to show.

“Now you have the chance to do that”.

“But I'll have to kill him at the end,” she spoke out bitterly, her heart aching so much that she felt it would shatter.

“It doesn't matter. You'll have your revenge. I've told you. I'll give you permission to murder Sandra.”