Chain Reaction 3.9: Adieu, Adieu

Drake

     Oh, my darling, darling mistress Melody. At this point in my life, she is such a comfort. She adores my son, saying he'll be a strong, confident man like his father.

     She doesn't do everything for me that Violet did, at least without being asked. But she's so nice to touch. I can't explain it; it's like an energy in her skin I find irresistible. On my more aggravating business days, she comes in and sits in my lap while I do nothing but put my hands all over her.

     Violet discovers us.
     For a moment, I'm worried, but my wife merely shrugs her shoulders and says she's been sleeping with the butler. I laugh and call up Roland, our butler. Then, just for kicks, I order him to woohoo Melody while I watch. Oh, and while Violet stays there too, my arms trapping her to observe the scene. I had fun with that. While she'd been in the hospital with the preterm labor thing, I had certain... security measures put into place. I'm much less afraid of her now.

      I'm surprised Melody doesn't lash out at me for that, but I get the feeling she likes obeying orders. Like I said: a comfort.

      However, that scene broke something in Violet. Angry that 'her' Roland would do that, I merely pointed out to her that there could be only one true master of the house. Besides, I'd seen the way Roland has looked at Melody. It didn't take much persuasion.

      I haven't forgotten how my wife has the potential to be dangerous, but like I said, something in her broke. These stupid Francos thinking they can rule Drake Goth, I'm proving them wrong.

      I get the tipoff about Malcolm exactly as I had planned. These men will do anything for the right price. Next week, Malcolm is scheduled to make his fatal blunder, and he'll be caught, an international criminal. Ethan said he couldn't catch him on anything, but I found something that will lock him away for good, something a step further than what Ethan's father himself is guilty of. There will be no place to go in order to find refuge. Bonehead. Landgraab refuses to play with all the pieces on the chessboard. As for me, I always have a way out. I've thought of every scenario for anything that could happen and have a plan in place.

     Violet walks into my office, looking a little like her old self again. I smirk. "Good evening, wife." I haven't seen very much of her since Melody shares my bed. We have no reason to hide anymore. Violet either sleeps with Roland or, more often, in one of the guest rooms. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

     "Come off it, Drake. You haven't taken 'pleasure' in my company for a long time now. We both knew this marriage was a farce at best, and I think it's time to end it. I refuse to be made more of the fool than you've already made of me by your toying with the staff."

      I shrug. "They're both willing participants. Looks like they just needed guidance. But I agree; a divorce is long overdue. I'll arrange visitations for you so you can see Valentino from time to time."

      She laughs, and I start to see The Mantis coming back to life. She's found her backbone again in her determination to get something done. I'm almost proud except for the fact that I'm also nervous. "Absolutely not. Valentino is coming with me. Uncle Donovan has left everything to him in his will, provided I am his primary caregiver."

      I stretch, pretending not to be worried. "Well, that's going to pose a problem because you're not taking my son."

      "What do you care about my son? You're always screwing that whore!"

      "Well, certainly not as much as I'd like, business and all."

      "Shut your slimy Goth mouth, Drake. We're through. I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this..." She draws a pistol.

     "...but I will kill you if you try to take my son from me."

     I laugh. "Kill your breadwinner? I'm offering you alimony, very generous if I do say so myself."

     She smiles. "Once you're dead, your company is mine. Maybe I can save it from the devastation Malcolm Landgraab is causing it."

     "Malcolm will not be a problem for much longer."

     "What do you mean?"

     I smile condescendingly. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Violet."

     She rolls her eyes. "You have nothing, and I grow bored of you." Her finger bears down on the trigger, and I push a button under my desk while simultaneously ducking out of the way. A poison dart flies through the air and hits her in the shoulder. Dust rains down to the floor from where the bullet had hit the bookshelf behind me.

     She gasps and looks at the feathery dart. Seeing she's presented an even better target, I fire from the other side as well.

     "What have you done?" she growls and tries to fire the gun again, but the poison has already started making her arm muscles useless.

     "Aw, my dear Violet. I thought you would recognize your weapon of choice: poison. Don't worry. Your pain won't last long. I'm merciful. You did, after all, give me a son." Merciful... and smarter. South Simerican frog slime is so much more effective than whatever food poisoning she gave me.

    "No," she groans. "You have to die."

    "I don't think so." The first dart falls off her arm, making a small tink sound on the tiles of the floor.

    "What will... you tell... our son?" She starts violently shaking. She probably only has a minute left.

    "I'll tell him I was defending myself."

    "No." Is she crying? "My son." She falls to the floor.

    I get up and walk around my desk so that I can see her.

      "Fear not, Violet. He's in good hands."

      "Bastard. Uncle... he'll kill you." Her mouth starts frothing, and she's shaking uncontrollably.

      "Ah. Well, he'll be joining you in hell soon enough. I think of everything." I don't know if she heard the last part because the shaking stops and her eyes glass over.

      "Adieu, adieu. Parting is such sweet... joy." I smirk. Shakespeare has nothing on me.

      I get on my phone and video chat Donovan Franco's bodyguard. "It's time." Since the phone rests on a holster attached to his belt, I get to watch as the old man's life is squeezed out of him. It's poetic, actually. After all, it was 'Uncle' Donovan who taught me not to trust anyone. That includes bodyguards; they're so easily bought, mercenaries that they are.

      "Done."

      "Thank you for your service. I'll meet you at the second rendezvous point in two hours." I'd already paid him half with the promise of the other half when the job is done. Cash. And I will keep my word and pay him what he's owed.

      Once that's finished, I tell Melody goodbye for a while. She doesn't need to know where I'm going. If asked, she'll tell the police that I feared for my life by defending myself against the Francos. That doesn't explain the death of Donovan, but that'll be a job for my lawyers.
     As for my son, I take him to Mom's house. Naturally, she's freaked out that I'm having to dash away like this, but I do all I can to assure her I'll be fine. The hardest is saying goodbye to Valentino. I hope it's not too long before I can return.
     And me: I'm going out of town. Way out of town.