172 Madison Avenue, New York
Tuesday, 2nd November
( Rafael P.O.V. )
There was a part of me that wanted to believe it was all a dream. Though, I clearly remembered every day since she left. Every hours. Every minutes. Every seconds. Each breath increased the agony, that even the knowledge of her death, at this point, would be much preferred. But with the letter in my hand—as we have found, seen, read and held in possession as the one and only evidence to trace, unfortunately the statements written on this piece of paper had suggested otherwise
To Monster,
I fucking hate you. I could never love you.
It's over between us.
- Aurora.
Three simple sentences with no hidden meaning. Thinking of her had become a frequent task when my brain just couldn't give up. Every morning, I died again. Every night, my mind forced me to remain awake and occupied itself with the idea of her.
She left us.
In our brightest day, she chose to run away. Brought with her not only the expensive jewelry I had bought her as a gift— a symbol of my passionate love and true affection, but also, she stole my life, my heart and my will to see tomorrow. She took them all and there was no point of return from where the situation had held us.
To say we were upset doesn't even begin to cover it. We made mistakes, faced failures on a daily basis. We knew that even the greatest minds made errors sometime. Yet, with Aurora. Losing her felt like the dumbest mistake the three of us had ever made.
We were blinded. Truly deceived by her submission that we overlooked the fact that she was only human. She's a smart girl and it seemed we had pushed her pass her limit. It was simple as that. Genuinely, she always wanted to run away and this time, she finally succeeded.
After so many tries, I wasn't sure whether or not we should be proud of her. But I knew she must be proud of herself. Discovering the way to escape her tormentors. I bet she is all smiling, dawdling and enjoying her freedom now. I wish I could say that she should. Because this happiness won't hang around for long. But this time, somehow, it felt as if it will.
When the door to my office was slammed shut, I slipped the sheet of paper in my hand underneath a pile of documents lying around on my desk. I looked up. My eyebrows furrowed.
"Tell your father-in-law he needs a new chief division counsel." Cruz huffed, stepping through the doorway.
"What happened?" I asked, knowingly. Staring into his fierce eyes, I sighed, "What the hell did you do, Cruz?"
"Thompson said something. I didn't like it. I shot him." He admitted.
"You what?"
"He fucking said she's dead, Ralph." Cruz snarled, taking a firm big step forward, running his hair through his hair, "I just lost it, okay?" No shit.
Shaking my head, I leaned back in my rolling chair. If I didn't have the reason to divorce Joanna now, she should have one by the end of today.
Throughout the past few months, with every power, every connection and every help from everywhere, we made every possible effort to locate her. Cruz had gone out of his way, out of his mind, trying to find a clue. Anything that would lead us to our girl. He was amazed. Aurora left nothing behind. It was as if her existence was a firework. It sparkled for a mere moment and left no trace behind. There was no person. No body. Nothing.
Policemen. Private investigators. The FBI. Whoever was responsible for the case could give us nothing. We lacked information, and foundation as to how she made it out there. Alive, and still living. Without a single vehicle, no public transport records, no history of purchase at any stores within a ten mile radius from her house. Since the neighborhood she lived in was very poor, looking at the street video surveillance, we only found either the cameras were improperly positioned, or they weren't recording at all.
For six months there was no record of her. And all the people she knew. Friends. Close relatives. They hadn't heard from her either. Where is she? Where is our Aurora?
"Stay out of the FBI offices, Cruz." I stated, hoping it would be the last time I had to ask Joanna's father for a favor right before I divorced his daughter. Cruz surely loved to make things hard for me.
"I have a meeting at five. I should get going." He easily dismissed. Completely ignored my statement earlier. He turned around and headed toward the door.
"You need to stop."
This time, he listened. He stopped. Or perhaps, my cold and distant tone had him rooted to the spot.
"She's not coming back. Let it go." I said, exhaling sharply as I tried not to let guilt consume me.
Shocked and awed all at once, Cruz slowly turned around.
"You gave up so easily." He sneered. But I had been trying. He knows.
At some point, I wished we would never run into each other again. Ever. Deep, deep down. I didn't want to see Aurora again. Not that I could ever stop missing her face, her voice, nor her touch. But I was afraid. Terrified. Because only God knows how far would I go, punishing her. I was afraid of myself. I've lived every minute in the past six months fueled by raw anger. If she were to make it back to us alive, she'd never forget the lessons I'm going to teach her. For the rest of her life, I will spend every single second of everyday, reminding her just how much of her belonged to us. She was ours and it doesn't matter to me whether she should like to accept it or not— she still is ours.
*******************
"Lobster?"
I merely shook my head, politely declining Joanna's offer after ignoring her irritated huff of breath. I set my fork down, losing my appetite entirely as the thought of her once again consumed my very being.
Nevertheless, here I am. Sitting at the big dinning table at the Conner resident with both, Joanna's and my own family several hours after my argument with Cruz. An argument which I wasn't ready to have today—maybe not ever.
"Is the food not to your liking, Ralph?" Mrs. Connor questioned, her eyes worriedly assessing the tired look on my face.
"He's fine, mom." Joanna responded on my behalf. She then gave me a side-eye look that said what-the-heck-is-wrong-with-you.
My mother looked over at both of us. The wary look in her eyes suggested to me; she was aware of the primary purpose of today's meeting. My best guess. Father must have said something to her in the car on their way over.
"Would you excuse us?" Mother said, rising abruptly from her seat, "I and Richard recently travelled to Morocco and brought back some souvenirs." She sent me a glance. She looked on the verge of hysteria, "I need a hand carrying all the bags in. Do you mind?"
"Jonathan can assist you, mother." I offered, motioning my head toward Jonathan who was standing in the corner with some maids.
"No, Ralph." She insisted. The fierce tone in her voice surprised everyone, "You. Come with me."
Seeing no better choice but to follow her command, I would rather be anywhere but sitting here right now.
I got up on my feet and followed my mother out of the dining-room. I knew she was going to cause a scene if I were to resist. Rage being one of the many traits I inherited from her. My mother doesn't take no for an answer. Never. Yet, she could be incredibly kind and understanding sometimes. I found that quite peculiar.
We continued walking down the endless hallway in silence, passing countless doors until we reached the end. I didn't voice my surprise as we stepped out into the garden area.
"Mom—" Rarely, I would call her that and she knew I only did it at the time I needed extra support and sympathy.
"Your father told me." She turned around to face and cut to the heart of the matter, "Is she not making you happy?" Happy? I had to fight back a laugh.
"It's complicated." I explained. More like justified.
The genuine depth of her concern took me by surprise. The look on her face softened. The same thing happened with her voice as she spoke.
"Part of me always knew this marriage isn't it."
I sighed. She wasn't wrong.
"I've never seen you so unhappy. Like she's going to be the death of you, and not in a good way." She is, "What went wrong, dear?"
Tongue-tied. I didn't know what to say. Wasn't sure what to tell her, or how much should I.
"Like I said, mother. It's complicated." I replied.
"Do you really want a divorce?"
"At least, more than I want her." I scoffed.
"Do you ever?" She sneered. But not in a pejorative, judgmental way. More like fact-checking, "Do you ever truly want Joanna, Ralph?"
I sighed again.
"Why did you marry her?"
I paused, "She's good for my image."
"Selfish." She sneered, making me rolled my eyes. Woman.
"You thought so too, mother." I noted, sharply. She did, "Weren't you the one who told me that out of all the girls I have brought home, Joanna is—"
"Decent." She finished, "Most of the girls you bought home are girls, Ralph. Joanna is a woman." Are you sure about that, mother?
I shrugged, "In my eyes, she was the only person you approved of."
"She still is." She taunted, "But that doesn't mean anything if you don't love her, Rafael. I thought you did."
"Love is unnecessary." I said without looking at her.
"I believe not as much as your resentful attitude." She snapped back, "This is what happens when one makes decision, serving out of a sense of duty. Surely, when consequences arise, instead of facing them, you would rather give up. You don't have the passion to fight for her. For your own marriage. You think keeping your wife is a duty."
"She's hard-to-please." I explained, "She wants kids. I don't. She wants us to move in the mansion. I prefer living at my penthouse. We don't see eye to eye, mother."
"Your penthouse?" She snorted, "Oh, darling. You really don't care for her at all, do you?"
"You know I care about a lot of things." I reasoned, "She just happens to not be the one of them."
Shaking her head, sadly before she crossed her arms. Breathed in deeply and heaved the breath out. Then, she examined my face. For just a moment, she attempted to read my thought.
"We should head inside." I announced.
"Is there another woman?"
I gulped, hoping the answer wasn't all up in my face.
"There is no one, mother. I can assure you."
"Right." She promptly nodded, "You know. Although there is, I do not wish to know of her. A home-wrecker, even unknowingly is filthy. Distasteful."
"She. Is. Not. A home-wrecker." I sneered through my gritted teeth. I lost my temper and regretted it immediately.
Fuck.
While staring back at me, speechless, without saying another word or voicing her opinion, I could hear what she was thinking.
"You might be one of the most successful, intelligent businessman out there, Rafael. But you're still my son." She said, sharply, "I've raised everything in my house but a cheater."
I ran one hand over my face and pushed my hair back.
"I have never been more disappointed in you." She snarled, "How could you?!"
"Trust me, mother. I have never been more disappointed in myself either."
The reply, despite the circumstances, I watched as her mouth fall agape before she closed it. Her lips pressed into a firm, thin line.
"Does Joanna know about her?" She asked and I could take she was trying to remain calm.
"No." I sighed.
"You'll tell her. Apologize. And make it up to your woman. That's what you will do." She calculated.
"But I don't love her, mother." I refused.
"And, as if you love her?" She sneered, "I know how you feel about relationships, Ralph. You love your ladies and you see winning them over as a fun challenge. No passion. No intimacy. No commitment. That's you. Making them fall head over heel and then you go ahead, treating them all the same. Like some kind of a trophy—"
"She wasn't my trophy." I declined, "If anything, karma is truly a bitch because it's me falling head over heels this time. Not her."
Breathlessly and unbelievably, she gasped.
"Who is this girl?"
"You don't know her." Not that you'll ever.
"But I'd love to." She countered, "If she is truly the one for you, and you love her.."
"The feeling is not reciprocated." I stated, and her once-angry expression turned absolutely devastated.
"Oh, sweetheart..."
"It's fine." It's not fine, "I'll get over it but right now, I can't stay in this marriage any longer. Joanna is driving me insane and it doesn't help with Auror—"
I stopped myself with a sigh.
Karma is truly a bitch, isn't it.
Suddenly, a wave of some strange feelings swept over me when my mother wrapped her arms around me, and for a moment I allowed myself to lean against her.
I had never felt so weak in my life that standing was almost an impossible task to maintain. I forced myself to think about what I was going to say the moment we stepped back into the Conner's dining room, but my mind kept circling back to that one face.
She was the first and only woman apart from my sister and mother that I truly ever loved. It sucked that speaking of her now had to be done in all past tense.
"Fight for her." Mom whispered, lowly.
"It's not that simple."
"Nothing is simple." She stated, slowly pulling away, "In life whatever you truly want— ironically enough, it will not come easy. Never. It's almost like a curse or something."
"I don't even know where she is." I admitted, "I don't even know if she's still..alive."
Shaking her head, my mother proceeded to look me full in the face.
"Find her." She said, "It's the only way you'll know."
********************
Suffolk County, MA, USA
Tuesday, 2nd November
( Aurora P.O.V. )
It was a busy night at the Château. As it is always. Customers were waiting out in long line, flowing down the sidewalk from the main entrance doors. Men packed the bar. Women danced their night away on the dance floor. I had spent a very busy four and a half hours walking up and down the stairs, in and out the kitchen since arriving for my shift. I worked from nine to three in the morning every day except on Wednesday and Sunday, I had a day off.
I was carrying a tray of empty shot glasses when I felt a hand on my left shoulder. Once away from the drunken crowd of people singing, more like screaming lyrics, I swiveled around. Sighing when my eyes landed on the person standing right behind me.
"A, bossman wants you." Quinn's thick eyebrows were deeply furrowed as he looked down upon me. He seemed unusually serious, and out of all the things he could have said to me that evening, that being the last I'd expected.
"He what?" I yelled over the noise, leaning closer to him but didn't forget to leave the tray on the counter. I could have dropped it, and I really don't need one more tragedy strike to upset the boss.
"Ace wants to see you in his office." Ace. Apart from Quinn, Isaiah, Chris and Dante, nobody around here dared to address Mr. Alonso by his first name. He had never explicitly stated that he wished for us to speak formally around him though. Everyone just did. Fear, supposedly.
"Why?" I found myself asking instead of moving my myself toward the staircase and heading up to the sixth floor. The office. They called it.
"Did you just ask me why?" He laughed like it's funny.
I titled my head, "W-why would Mr. Alonso need to see me in his office?" I asked, worriedly, "Have I done something?"
"Ask him yourself." Handing me the metallic keycard; a necessity to access the private elevator and express to the office, "The guards are expecting you up there. They'll show you to boss's office. Don't keep him waiting."
I gulped, accepting the card and watched quietly as Quinn turned around, said no more. He just casually walked away.
Before I realized it, my feet were set in motion. Despite the fact that my heart was literally thudding against my ribcage, trying to jump out, I swallowed the fear and nervousness in my throat and walked through.
When I got to the back of the club, it was merely quiet. The only noise I could hear was the sharp percussion sound of people pacing, crisp and metallic. There were guards walking up and down the long skinny hallway.
"What're you doing back here?" A tall, bald one, well built, with a mess of long blonde hair cleared his throat as he shot me a dirty look.
"Quinn told me— I mean Mr. Alonso requested my presence in his office." I explained. God. What could I possibly have done to upset him I wonder. For six months, I got away with breaking glasses, getting myself into an argument with male customers, and all of the sudden, he picked today. Maybe, this is it. I had finally pulled the last straw of patience out of Mr. Alonso.
Good job, Aurora. Good job.
"Kid, are you listening?" Snapping out of my thought, I looked back at the intimidating bald guy and slowly nodded.
"Y-yes."
"Are you carrying any electronic equipment on you?" He asked, sternly.
I squinted my eyes, "Excuse me?"
"Phones? Trackers? Guns? Bombs?"
"No." I said, giving him a hard look, "What kind of question is that? Like, where could I even purchase a gun around here?" Seriously. Where?
The guy rolled his eyes, stepping out of my way and motioning with his head down the hall.
Holding my breath for a moment before I started walking again, I didn't know how to feel about this. As I neared the elevator, thoughts flooded my brain. Standing in a small, confined space didn't help either. If anything it reminded me too much of them.
I tried to breath in and out slowly, counted to ten and even hummed a song to ease my nerve but nothing seemed to work.
My knee bounced anxiously as the elevator rang and the sound of people talking filled my ears. Two men jumped slighted before they whirled around. One of them proceeded to look me up and down, meanwhile the other one, the much more kind-looking one spoke.
"Astrid, yes?"
I nodded.
"Follow me." He smiled, politely and led me down the hall.
Couple of doors we passed, spread far apart. At the end of the hallway laid another U-shaped staircase leading up to a higher level. I didn't know there were seven floors in this building. I had always been told there were only six.
"Last door. On your right." The guy said as we slowed and I found myself standing all alone in the middle of an empty black-carpeted hallway. I paced back and forth several times. Afraid to raise my hand and knock on that double door. What could Mr. Alonso possibly want from me?
*******************
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