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ChapterTwo
Sebastian
Istride down the hallway, paying no mind to staffers who scurry past me, heads bent low to avoid my gaze. It has always been this way. My reputation has long preceded me. I like it. I like that I am not only respected but feared.
Even though half the news on the internet is false, I have never truly confirmed nor denied it. I love that I have managed to keep my workers on their toes. The perception and image of me they’ve created in their heads gets a lot of work done around the office. This gives me time to do something more productive than firing lazy workers.
When I step into my glass-walled office, my assistant is already on his feet, with a cup in hand.
“Good morning, Mr. Vaughn.”
I nod and take the scalding cup of coffee and bring it to my lips immediately, not missing the way my assistant, Sam, winces. I stalk into my office at a more leisurely pace as I take yet another grateful sip from the cup. I have become a little too dependent on this brown liquid and almost always need it to wake my brain up. Of course, I need a couple more cups to get me through the day.
“Phone the manager for the Manhattan estate and inform him that I'd love to meet with him by 10 a.m. And for his own sake, he'd better make it.”
Sam nods hard and begins to turn away.
“I never said you’ve been dismissed,” I tell him darkly.
Sam turns around, looking flustered and red-faced.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Vaughn. I thought you needed that done right away.”
I merely regard the young man with cold eyes, not missing the way he squirms and shifts from one foot to the other.
“Make sure that the nanny is well aware of the time Callie gets out of school and is already home waiting for her.” I look him dead in the eye to ensure that he has heard me well enough. “She cannot, for a second, be left alone.”
Sam gives another hard nod as he begins to scribble on the little pad he has learned to carry around. I continue to rattle off instructions for the young man, who scrambles to keep up. Five minutes later, I take a deep breath and a deeper sip of coffee, pulling my laptop close and booting it.
When I look up two minutes later to find Sam still standing a few feet away from me, unsure of what to do with himself, I say, “You're dismissed.”
As Sam steps out, I go back to the laptop window I'd opened and the plethora of emails I have yet to respond to. I glance at the polaroid picture on my desk. Unable to help myself, I pick it up and bring it closer for inspection.
It has become a habit, this thing I am doing. The soft movement of fingers against the tiny portrait in my hands. I trace my fingers over the face of the little girl, not older than two, who had smiled widely into the camera. Her hair is brushed back and divided into two to make pigtails.
The woman holding the little girl by the hand has her eyes on her. Eyes I know have always been filled with love and affection. I could never be mistaken and could never forget because I was there. I'd taken this picture and loved it so much that I'd washed it and kept it right here in my office.
The sight of this picture has managed to brighten up my mornings. After Charlotte had been diagnosed with cancer, I felt like everything had crumbled around me. I fought hard to keep her alive, working harder than I ever had.
However, that wasn’t enough for Charlotte, who began to pick a fight with me every chance she got. I never understood why she wasn't seeing how badly I needed to make money to ensure she got the best health care possible. As the days continued to etch slowly by, her health continued to deteriorate.
I close my eyes against the fresh wave of pain that floods my body.
The doctor confessed that on the night Charlotte had died, that it didn't look like she wanted to fight anymore. For me, knowing that hurt more than anything else ever could. She had left me to not only mourn her absence but the notion that she could have fallen out of love with me in her last days. She had wanted to be away from me bad enough to wish death upon herself sooner.
Yet I had never stopped loving her; I could never. The love I had for her was the same, even when I began to acquire the kind of money I wanted through my clever ways of dealing and calculated investments. It was too late because by then, there was no Charlotte. She was gone forever.
There is still a part of her that is alive in me. It is there, pulsing and thriving when I look at Callie, who is growing to look more and more like her each day. It is there in the memories we'd shared when it was just the two of us.
I had done all I could to win her love and affection. Charlotte, as far as I am concerned, is irreplaceable. It is not surprising that there is no one else I have truly connected with, not in the way I had with Charlotte. I don't think the bond we'd shared could be found twice in one lifetime. For now, I am fine with just continuing to live with the memories of her. Now it is just me and Callie.
A fond smile grazes my lips at the thought of my little angel. I had been left to take care of her after Charlotte passed. Even though I've had the time of my life raising my little girl, I can’t help but feel like I have not done a very good job.
I just had to go to her school the previous day.
I frown slightly at the memory of the woman who had called to inform me of Callie's behavior. I didn't know what to think. Callie has never truly given me trouble at home. So, it was either that the Sullivan woman was not good at her job, or Callie was acting out. I am going to go with the former. There is no reason for Callie to act out. I have ensured that she gets everything she wants. She's never known want and I am determined to keep her from ever experiencing it.
I return the polaroid carefully back on my desk and sigh softly. There is so much to do, and I need to get started. As I begin to go over the report that one of the managers has emailed, I give a light chuckle.
There are so many loopholes in the report, an obvious absence of funds scattered throughout the months he'd been given the project to handle. It's a good thing we are meeting today. I cannot wait to see the man try to struggle through his lies. I didn't think I was going to have to fire someone today, but with the figures that are staring back at me, I am sure to make that happen. And, of course, slap the ugliest lawsuit on his back.
