2026-01-11 06:53:44His left eye was still swelling as a result of the slap of Sandra. He put it to his lips, and fainted at the pain. Its skin had gone a dark purple, and was bruised.
He was in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at the damage. His reflection looked back half his face swollen and discolored. His white of eye had red streaks in it.
"Bitch." He muttered under his breath.
His telephone rang on the night stand. Robert strolled back into the bedroom where he took up the phone grudgingly. The name Uncle Phillip appeared in the screen.
He answered. "What?"
Robert, the board is prepared to have an interview with you tomorrow at ten. Don't be late." There was a kind of artificialness of warmth in Uncle Phillip that crawled along Robert.
"I'll be there." Robert said flatly.
"Excellent. We have everything ready to receive you. The office, the contracts, all that. Everything's made as you wanted it to be made."
"Good. I would not want anything less than that of the Jackson family. The voice of Robert was full of sarcasm.
Uncle Phillip with a nervous laugher. "Of course, of course. See you tomorrow, nephew. Get some rest big day ahead."
Robert hung up, and did not say good bye. He tossed the phone on the bed.
He brought his black card out of his wallet, and rubbed his thumb over the golden characters of his name. The following day, he would enter Zenco enterprise as the president. Not as the destitute nephew whom they kicked five years back.
The irony wasn't lost on him. The very individuals that had deprived him of all their possessions now required his services very much.
Robert took a shower and allowed the warm water to loosen the knots of the muscles. He lingered longer than needed under the spray, and took the luxury of not being hurried. No Roxanne jingling bells. And no Sandra screaming that he come faster.
Just silence. Beautiful, peaceful silence.
Having put on his French suit, Robert again glanced at himself. The high priced cloth was nonsensical when paired with delivery trainers. He needed proper shoes. Real shoes, expensive shoes.
He reached into his wallet and walked away. The hotel lobby was full of businessmen and tourists. No one gave him any attention just another guest.
The city had the most expensive shoe store occupying a corner of the Fifth Avenue. Hundreds of times Robert had passed it, making pizzas and never daring to enter the building. The individual prices on the window made him feel like turning over at the time.
He now thrust through the glass doors with a feeling of confidence. A bell chimed overhead.
The counter sales girl raised her head off the phone she was young, in her early twenties, with perfectly manicured nails and an attitude to accompany. Her blonde curly hair was drawn back in a tight ponytail.
She gazed down and up at Robert, and her nose wrinkled in clear disgust. Her gaze lingered upon his trainers.
"Can I help you?" She inquired it was something she would not prefer to do.
Robert went nearer to the counter. "I need shoes. Your best pair."
The girl laughed actually laughed in his face. She put her hand over her mouth, yet the delight was that of her eyes.
“Our least expensive pair, sir, begin with five thousand dollars. I don't think you can afford it"
Robert drawn back his black card and hard-slapped it against the glass counter to the point of her jumping.
"I said your best pair. Not your cheapest."
The girl's eyes widened. Her smile faded away at once. She picked the card so that she could look at it as she would have looked on a counterfeit card. She rolled it, examined the hologram, the weight, the carving.
Her face went pale. Every hue grew out of her cheeks.
"Right away, sir. Do have a seat in our VIP section, please.” Her voice had been entirely changed.
Robert didn't move. "I'll stand."
She ran away into the back room, her heels beating madly on the marble floor. She came back a few minutes later with a man in a made-up suit, who was older. The manager, probably.
I am very sorry, Mr. Jackson, I am sorry to cause any inconvenience. The manager stretched out his hand, grinning so broadly and unnaturally.
Robert ignored it. "Just show me the shoes."
The manager's hand dropped. "Of course. Right this way."
They ushered him into a small room where there were some chairs made of leather, and ice champagne. Robert was sitting as they brought box after box of shoes.
Italian leather, Handcrafted. Limited edition. All of them were costlier and costlier.
Robert put on a few pairs, and sauntered at his leisure. Making them wait and working them to earn his money.
Robert was wandering out twenty minutes later in Italian leather shoes that were worth fifteen thousand dollars. Delivery trainers were sitting in a designer shopping bag, a reminder of where he was.
He disposed them in the closest trash can next to the store.
His phone rang again. Dave. “I heard what you were doing after you left last night, man. Luke wouldn't shut up about it. He's telling everyone." Dave was apologetic, even ashamed.
"It's fine. I'm used to it." Robert answered, but his jaw made a clench at the thought.
"No, it's not fine. That has been an asshole of a guy. A complete jerk. Look, I suppose you want somewhere to sleep, my door is open. Seriously, anytime."
Robert smiled. Dave was the sole actual companion he had left. The only person who did not desert him when money came to an end.
"Thanks, but I'm good. Actually, I'm better than good. I will see you tomorrow, at Zenco enterprise, at ten. I have a surprise for you."
"Zenco? What are you doing there? Did you get a job or something?" Dave asked, confused.
"You'll see. Just be there." Robert cut short before Dave could put more questions.
The remainder of the day he spent in shopping. Designer suits of which he could hardly make the name. Armani. Versace. Tom Ford. Fresh watches that are more expensive than cars, Rolex, Patek Philippe.
New everything. A complete transformation.
The sneering clerks who had at first looked down on him at first were now falling over themselves to render assistance. They took his bags, brought him champagne, addressed him sir and did so with sincere admiration.
Money changed everything. Absolutely everything.
By night, Robert made a five star hotel check-in. The Ritz. The penthouse suite was even priced higher than he would earn in a month at the pizza place.
He didn't care. He might spare it a thousand times and not have its loss.
He ordered room service. Lobster, caviar, the best wine of France. He consumed like a king, and took his time. No more leftover pizza. Enough of scraps on the plate of Roxanne.
Robert slept in a bed that was larger than the whole bedroom of Roxanne and those silk sheets felt so good against his skin. The bed was as soft as cloud-bedding.
The actual performance would start tomorrow. They would all see tomorrow what Robert Jackson had been.
He slept with a smile on his face. An actual smile after several years.
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CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY
On Sunday evening Robert told Dave.He called instead of waiting for a meeting. He sat home at his office with the door closed and dialed Dave's personal number when it was seven pm.Dave answered on the first ring.“Roxanne is with child,” Robert said.No answer in response.Not the quietness of someone processing. A different kind. The unique silence that follows when someone receives something and let it sit before responding.It took four seconds."Robert," Dave said. His voice was not totally firm."Yes," Robert said.Another silence. Shorter."How far?" Dave said.Robert informed him of the doctor's findings."And Roxanne?" Dave said."Well," Robert said. “Entirely herself, tired and nauseous in the mornings.”Dave was quiet.“Clara will be.” Dave began."About eighteen months.” Robert said.Dave was silent once again.Robert allowed him to remain silent. He sat in the office chair and surveyed the room around him and gave Dave his space.“I'm going to cry,'' Dave said."I know
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE
It was Saturday, and it was like a morning that didn't know it was different from other mornings.At six o'clock, it was time for Robert to get up. Clara wasn't awake yet. He was making coffee, and standing at the kitchen window watching the city below. Gray early light of a December morning.He had slept well.Better sleeping than he had done for weeks. The special clean sleep that is experienced by those who have had something good come along and temporarily take the place of anything else that had been in their way.After dinner he lay beside Roxanne, who was asleep within twenty minutes, and he glanced up at the ceiling for a while, but he did not think about anything he usually did at night. He had considered a little room. A crib next to the existing crib that is already in the penthouse. The sound of two children breathing.He was asleep while he had that thing in his mind.He was standing in front of the window, holding a cup of coffee.Roxanne came into the kitchen door. She
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-EIGHT
When she went through the door Robert was in the kitchen.Clara was sitting in her chair. The focused concentration Robert brought to the cooking process was what he used to make dinner. When she entered, he looked up at her.He read her face.He set aside the object he had in his hands."What happened?" he said.She placed her purse on the chair.She looked at him over the kitchen.Clara sat between them and she looked at her. Clara focused her whole morning on Roxanne.Clara said mummy.Her newest word. The same purposeful timing as that of daddy months ago.Roxanne took a look at Clara.Robert could read something moving down her face.He turned.He was standing in front of her."Roxanne," he said.She looked at him.She told him.She spoke plain and truthfully as she spoke things that were true and too big to arrange.Robert's gaze was fixed on her.He was now still as a stone.She looked at his face.She observed all that passed through her. The processing. The precise order of a
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SEVEN
Roxanne saw it on a Monday morning.When she was at her laptop in front of the kitchen table, she paused and sat back. Robert lifted his head from the island."You all right?" he said."Tired," she said.He looked at her. She had her hand flat on the table in front of her. Not doing anything. Simply, placing it there.He told her to go back to bed.“It's time for me to attend my nine o’clock meeting,” she answered."Move it," he said.She didn't move it. She drank her coffee and then went to her office and returned home at six o'clock. Robert made dinner. She ate half of it."Come back here, you're not feeling well," he said.“Yes I am fine,” she said. "I am just tired."He glanced across the table at her.She gazed at him."I have been tired before," she said.“Not like this," he said.She wasn't about to challenge that.By Wednesday, the fatigue had companion. A particular morning sickness that came at mornings and sat with her all day into the first two hours. She refused to tell R
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SIX
Phillip discovered the irregularities on Thursday afternoon.He was not looking for them.He was going through the old storage box. Not for intelligence use. As part of the disclosure documentary process, the lawyers had requested that he examine what was in the box. All the items in the box had to be catalogued and evaluated for significance in the continuing events.He was carefully going through the box. Documents Identifying Financials from the original case. Letters before Robert's banishment from the family. Records from the early Zenco years.He discovered the folder in the bottom.It was a folder that he had compiled in the initial investigation of Robert's promotion. The time leading up to the period of Maxime's imprisonment. Historical records. Financial documents related to the early stages of the Castellano coalition.He opened it because he had to catalogue it.He read through it for cataloguing purposes.He left it at page seven.A business transaction log of a corporate
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE
It was a Wednesday, which was the first time in three months that Leonard Hayes has made an external contact.Not the normal paths. Not by his lawyer, nor by the federal communications system that was supervised as part of his custody. The mechanism was discovered four days after its use by Chen's team.A message. Passed through a legitimate legal correspondence channel that had no known connection to Leonard Hayes that was part of a law firm. The firm had previously been used in another property deal years before his arrest, but through a number of intermediaries. The relationship was so weak that it could not be seen in the original case records.It was a Sunday morning when Chen phoned Robert.Robert was sitting at a table with Clara on his lap. Clara was working diligently on a board book. He responded with his free hand, holding Clara with his other.“Leonard reached out to someone out there,” Chen said."Who?" Robert said.“It's a financial operator in Geneva,” Chen said. “It's
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