The Girl in the Wych Elm (XIV) (III)

 

XIV. Dreams of Immortality Through a Dark Lens (III)

The impending meeting with Lucia Lightwood had Angelo’s jitters going berserk. The woman was a snake, and Angelo knew it without needing concrete evidence to back his judgment. Good people didn’t exist among the High Families. Every last one of them was fucked up in some way, from Angelo’s view to say the least. But Lucia was the one person he disliked out of the others. She was always spewing “women’s empowerment” nonsense to her sister. Bogus words from the mouth of a bogus person. Angelo warned Maeve that climbing into bed with Lucia was a death sentence. He yelled the words in his sister’s ears until they made him hoarse. Lucia was an opportunist. The worst kind who was deceptive behind the scenes. One trait Angelo admired about Alexander and Ishmael: they backstabbed in your face and were honest about it. He and Maeve were no more pawns in Lucia’s game than they would have been in the hands of the other High Families. It was why Angelo never bothered with interactions with Lucia, always remaining silent in the background when they had their meetings. He’d rather the women handle the business instead.

Angelo peered down at his wristwatch. “It’s time…” He said to himself, disgruntled. The watch’s leather band was faded and worn badly and stretched thin in certain areas. The acrylic glass was scratched to Hell which made reading the face of late more difficult. Due to its poor state, the watch became more an accessory than a means for timekeeping. Angelo could have replaced the band and glass a long time ago. He had the means. He had the money unlike when he worked in the brothels as a destitute sex worker. The watch was a gift from Maeve. The first present he had ever received in his young adult life. No exaggeration. Angelo was content with its ragged state. Every part of the watch down to the box it came in was sentimental to the man. The box too, was worn down and falling apart, but Angelo held onto it, continuing to house his watch inside it at the end of every day. There was a reason. 

Angelo’s favorite client had been a recently retired college professor who taught both philosophy and literature. The woman never solicited him for sex, only companionship as she grieved the recent loss of her husband of twenty years. She would talk Angelo’s ears off their entire appointment about different things, some of them interesting to him and some of them he couldn’t care less about. Angelo never understood most of what she talked about, but he listened and responded to the best of his ability. As their budding relationship blossomed, the client became Angelo’s safe space more than he was hers. She never made him feel stupid or objectified him. Angelo was allowed to be vulnerable with her. He was allowed to vent his frustrations, talk about his trauma, and so on. Angelo was allowed to be human. During one of their many sessions, the woman presented the Ship of Theseus Paradox to Angelo, which was her favorite discussion topic. She was interested in his answer. Two years before Angelo and Maeve were liberated, the client stopped coming around which saddened Angelo. He mourned their friendship. He hoped she had found another partner to share in her interests. 

“This better not take long…” Angelo said, descending the two flights of stairs to the floor where Maeve’s office was. He knocked, announced himself, and entered before verbal confirmation. “Hey, Maeve.” His sister was, of course, addressed first. “Miss Lightwood.” A brisk nod to Lucia who was seated on the sofa across from Maeve’s desk. She had made herself at home with an arm swung over the back and her legs stretched out. He was relieved Lucia had her feet hanging off the sofa instead of on them like last time. Cleaning upholstery was grueling. Lucia’s new appearance had Angelo looking twice at her. The change suited her. He thought she looked great with short hair which had somehow shaved off a few years of her age, giving her a younger appearance. She wouldn’t receive any verbal compliments from him, however. 

Two bodyguards had accompanied Lucia as well. The central bodyguard, Jason, he recognized from prior encounters. As always, the man was well groomed, not a hair out of place or a blemish to be seen. His handsome appearance disguised his deadly nature. The woman bodyguard was new, however. She was taller than her partner with light hair pulled back, and piercing green eyes that felt like daggers being stabbed into your heart when she looked at you. They stood off to the side pretty much blending in with the furniture of their environment. 

“Maeve where’s the armchair?” It wasn’t in its usual spot near the desk. He searched around the room for it, but the chair was gone. He was informed by his sister the chair was broken and hadn’t been replaced yet. 

“Come sit here…next to me…” Lucia told Angelo, rubbing the space beside her. The look of desire in her eyes made him tense. Seconds after entering the room, Lucia’s eyes remained fixated on Angelo. She stared him down like he was the dessert to her dinner. The traumatized man had seen that look too many times in the eyes of his female clients. And couldn’t stand it when anyone looked at him in that manner. Worse, Angelo was forced to look them in their eyes when intimate with the women. Seeing his own sexual objectification reflected in the eyes of his clients always made him vomit once sex was finally over. “I do bite, but you would enjoy it.” A devious smirk from the infamous Lucia Lightwood. 

Maeve took small breaths in and out. That protective, older sister nature was ready to pounce on Lucia. “You can have my seat-” Lucia rudely dismissed the substitution. She wanted Angelo, not Maeve beside her.

“Have a seat, Angelo.” She spoke to the man like a stern mother to her child. Lucia snapped her fingers and directed to the space beside her, wearing an irritated expression. The urge to strike a woman had never crossed Angelo’s mind before that moment with Lucia. “So, we can get started.” She said emphatically. 

Angelo cooperated, not because he feared Lucia, but because the sooner they began, the sooner she would get the Hell on. Keeping Lucia happy, unfortunately, was crucial to their survival. Angelo sat down but left a huge gap of space between them. 

“Humor me for a second, Angelo. Does Maeve have you sample the merchandise like Maurice used to do when he brought in more girls? I’ve always been curious about the answer. If so, did you have a favorite? Was it Jade?” Lucia slid in closer. Fingertips gazed Angelo’s, to his chagrin. The desire shone in Lucia’s eyes like a beam of light striking a prism. She wanted him. Angelo didn’t want her. His expression and mood soured over the idea of Lucia pursuing him. The man slid further into the corner until he physically couldn’t anymore. The annoying, unwanted advances from Lucia endured. She rotated her body, moving from a sitting position onto her stomach. “I’ve been told Jade is regarded as a highly prized gemstone.” She raised her eyebrows with a perverse amusement. “But if that’s true, then why does every man around Wych Elm have access to one? You know what mean?” Batting her lashes nearly had Angelo springing from his seat. 

“We managed to relocate the shipment, Lucia.” Maeve cleared her throat loudly. Her aggravation was unconcealable. The tension between the women cut through the air like a violent lightning strike. A relieved sigh escaped Angelo’s mouth as Lucia’s attention was redirected at his sister, for the time being. “We paid Garrett a pretty penny to stash the shipment in one of his buildings.” Maeve reclined in her chair. She also informed Lucia sneaking the shipment out of Wych Elm wasn’t an easy feat. The presence of the out-of-town detective took everyone by surprise. Alexander had Ishmael deploy his watchdogs around Wych Elm 24/7 because he didn’t want any more Outsiders wandering in and snooping about the girl’s body. Maeve shifted restlessly in her chair. Her palms began sweating. She started rubbing all over her neck. “Lucia… Lucia I’m starting to have doubts about this plan of yours.” She feared they were too close to the sun. Although the Sinclairs succeeded in moving the shipment out of Wych Elm, they couldn’t exactly guarantee that no one spotted them. 

Angelo noticed Maeve’s lower body shaking. He saw her face losing its color from the terror accumulating inside of her. She stammered over her words, which his sister did when she was nervous or afraid. Maeve was imagining the deprived violence that awaited them if Alexander uncovered their scheme. Angelo wanted to run to his sister. He wanted to hold her close and tell her it would all be okay. That he would protect her. That he would become the sacrificial lamb if it kept Maeve safe. Angelo didn’t move. Well, he couldn’t move because the foul side-eye from Lucia held him hostage where he sat. 

“How about we take a brief recess from this conversation for a moment. Give you time to calm your nerves.” Lucia returned to an upright position. She leaned on the sofa’s arm, swinging her leg. “I have some interesting news that will brighten your afternoon.” The news regarded Edgar Hightower. The corners of Maeve’s mouth turned downward. Edgar was the last man whose name she wanted to hear. The drunk bastard garnered an infamous track record for abusing Maeve’s women. Every other day, Angelo was kicking the Hightower out of a brothel, gambling den, or bar. Sometimes it was all three within the same week. 

“What trouble has that asshole found himself in now?” Maeve asked with a dry, unimpressed interest. She expected the answer not to surprise her. Edgar and Trouble went hand-in-hand. The man could never stay out of it for long. 

“Ishmael has arrested him for murder.” Maeve’s eyebrows raised slowly. Angelo moved to the edge of his seat. The answer blindsided them. “Maya, the daughter of Alexander’s secretary Rhonda, was murdered last week. Apparently, he’s the likely suspect. And Solomon’s going to let the Red Hound put his ass under the jail too.” Lucia spoke nonchalantly, shrugging at the situation. 

Edgar might have been a serial woman beater, but Maeve knew he wasn’t a killer. “Edgar’s a lot of terrible things. A murderer isn’t on that list.” Maeve replied matter-of-factly. The news had her shaking her head. 

Angelo, however, was skeptical. He crossed his arms and grilled her over the statement. “How so, Maeve? I mean…we’ve seen his handiwork numerous times.” He didn’t shy away from voicing his disagreement. Edgar escalating to murder wasn’t unrealistic, as all serial abusers eventually did. It didn’t seem far-fetched to Angelo. He believed Edgar had done it. 

Maeve repeated her statement backed with supportive evidence. “Edgar never abused women to the point he seriously hurt them. A push there. A slap in the mouth here. Some hair snatching and arm twisting. I can’t recall a moment where he full on beat one of our girls up. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not defending him out of the goodness of my heart. Abuse is abuse, no matter what. But he never sent them to the hospital. He just psychologically and emotionally traumatized them.” Edgar also had a type. He preferred older women, not the young women. “The man has some deep-seated mommy issues.” She shuddered from disgust. Maeve’s claim was based on deductive reasoning. She studied men’s behavioral patterns like they were the back of her hand. “As I said, it wasn’t Edgar. He’s just the fall guy for whoever committed the murder.” The situation had Maeve vexed. Long nails clawed into the underside of her desk. God dammit! She hated Edgar, but she needed him. As much as it agonized the madam keeping a violent abuser around her women, Edgar’s patronage was a necessary evil. The drunkard spilled Crimson Hightower secrets like a water bucket riddled with holes. Rotten trash as the man was, he was useful rotten trash, nonetheless. She stifled a frustrated scream. 

“Don’t tell me you’re upset about Edgar of all people, Maeve.” Maeve was skilled at minimizing her facial and body language. She slipped up and caught Lucia’s attention who was interested to know what was on her mind. Lucia, staring intensely at Maeve, leaned forward awaiting an answer.

“Good riddance to him. It’s about time the Sherrif started doing his job around here instead of begging at Alexander’s feet.” Maeve moved the conversation back to the previous topic. “Call me a pessimist, but instigating a civil war between the Hightower families seems insane. Brillant in theory but insane in actuality.” Maeve was certain it wouldn’t turn out well.  

“Here’s the funny truth about the prestigious men of Hightower: they’re still men at the end of the day no matter how intelligent they portray themselves to be. Yes, they can be methodical at times, but they lead with fear now. And what happens when you begin relying more on fear than intelligence? You get sloppy.” She slammed her hand on the coffee table. The center piece clattered around. “Your women have been sowing seeds of false information and distrust into the ears of their Hightower clients for over a year now, correct?” Lucia splayed her arms. “Look at the progress we’ve made since we’ve started. The pot is about ready to boil over. They’ll be too embroiled in their stupid family feud to even notice what we’ll be doing.” She told the Sinclair siblings with a confident smile. 

The Sinclairs truly wanted to believe Lucia. They wanted to believe there was a chance. That they had a chance, but the odds didn’t appear favorable given the High Families record for crushing their opposition. They feared it would become a suicide mission in the end. 

“Say you succeed with this scheme and the Hightowers do end up destroying each. What about Ishmael and the DeSanguis?” Angelo kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “The sheriff would surely be next in line for power of Wych Elm.” Ishmael and the DeSanguis weren’t a threat to Lucia. She wasn’t concerned because the family only tolerated Ishmael because he was backed by Alexander. Once the mayor was gone, the dogs of DeSanguis would turn on Ishmael and maul him apart. “Even with that old mutt out of the way, the DeSanguis would still crumble. Their temperament is no better than the Hightowers.” She told the pair it was best not to concern themselves with the latter. The reins of power over Wych Elm would be assumed the Lightwoods, the Sinclairs, and the Aschermanns.

“You’re not worried about the blowback?” Maeve yet again had skeptical brows arched at Lucia and her words. “The Hightowers won’t keep their family feud between themselves. The conflict’s going to spill over and drag everyone inside Wych Elm into the fray.” Donovan had theorized the same thing too, but was dismissed, ridiculed. 

Lucia’s lip curled sharply. Maeve’s question sullied the woman’s mood. “Like I told Donovan a few days ago. I won’t be dragged into shit.” For she had a trump card in place. Maeve asked what that trump card was, but Lucia, winking, answered with a finger to her lips. Some things were best kept undisclosed. She would play the trump card when the time came, that’s all Maeve needed to know. “You’re worrying too much and overthinking.” Angelo cut his eyes at the woman. Maeve expressed valid concerns, and the manner in which Lucia always dismissed them when his sister raised them pissed him off.

“Lucia-”

“Maeve…” She pinched her thumb and pointer together. There was a stern glow in Lucia’s eyes which Maeve didn’t like. She felt insulted. She felt like the woman was trying to little sister her. “There’s a reason why I saved you from Maurice’s custody, got rid of him, and turned his empire over to you. When people saw you, they saw a whore quickly reaching her expiration date. They still see a whore that has reached her expiration date. But I… I saw a smart woman who had no business working in a brothel when she should have been running it.” She poked her temple. Wide-eyed stare and all. Lucia articulated her words like they were something radical. Whore had Maeve tensing up. Use of the word was banned around her and inside the Red-Light District when ownership was turned over to her. “I know that brain of yours is constantly coming up with ideas. Is constantly cooking up contingencies in case a plan goes south. What other reason would Alexander have kept you close that he couldn’t get from another woman? Intelligent women are his weakness. Bonus if they have common sense as well.” Lucia wasn’t worried because she knew Maeve had a fail-safe in place. 

The fake compliment had Angelo snorting like a feral pig. “Let’s slap a halo on that kind head of yours and Christian you Saint Nicholas of Myra, huh?” He looked to Maeve. His sister, however, didn’t acknowledge the cute joke. Her expression was a disconcerting one. 

Angelo never saw eye to eye with Lucia on any matter. That day, they agreed on one thing: Maeve was intelligent. He might not have been as intelligent as her, but he was astute and didn’t believe for a second Lucia acted on kindness saving them from their former situation. The matriarch’s generosity was a tactic. She wanted their trust, their loyalty, but underestimated how freely they would give it out. 

Lucia’s head turned slowly. “I meant what I said. If I didn’t, I would have left you former street rats high and dry without pots to piss in.” The insinuations were rebuffed. She wasn’t arguing with Angelo of all people. “Jason.” Lucia waved the man over. He removed two, cream-colored envelops from his blazer lining. Both envelopes were stamped closed with a Lily-of-the-valley wax seal. Jason turned the envelopes over to Maeve for safe keeping. “The Summer Solstice Masquerade is a formal event. Please represent the Lightwood family well.” She clicked her teeth. Lucia had nothing else to add. 

“Lucia, before you go.” Maeve pulled out a tattered suitcase and laid it on her desk. It contained the last payment towards Angelo’s debt. Lucia, smirking, looked at the suitcase, then at Maeve, then down at the suitcase again, repeating the sequence several times. 

“No.” 

Maeve’s face heated up with a scowl. “No? Why?” She rose from her chair like a vampire from its coffin. Black dots appeared like a swarm of insects obstructing her visibility. Maeve struggled keeping it together. She struggled from blacking out and beating the woman across from her into the floor. What reason did Lucia have to refuse their payment? Maeve’s stomach became restless waiting on the answer. 

“No!” Angelo stormed up to Lucia’s face, chest puffed up, nostrils flaring. The brazen man told her she wasn’t turning down their money. The debt owed was being paid off that day. “Take. The money.” He hovered menacingly over the small-framed woman. Lucia flicked Angelo’s nose. She had encountered moths scarier than him. She told him no again. No, she wasn’t accepting the money. 

Natalie reached for her service weapon. “Take a step back, Angelo. Now!” Those lively green eyes of hers turned darker, reflecting her emotion. That was Angelo’s first and final warning before things became ugly. 

“Fuck off, woman!” 

Jason stepped in. “You won’t be asked aga-” There was a loud, nauseating crunch sound. A howl of pain followed shortly. Jason, disoriented, fell into the wall cradling his bleeding nose. 

During the assault, Natalie had removed her gun and its safety. She pressed the barrel between Angelo’s third and fourth ribs. One shot into the heart and Angelo was instantly dead. He dared Natalie to shoot. “My pleasure.”

 “Stop, Natalie. And put that away.” Lucia steered the barrel away from Angelo with two fingers.

“Miss Light-”

“It’s fine, Natalie.” Lucia peered around Angelo’s frame at Maeve. “Your brother isn’t a threat, is he Maeve?” Lucia narrowed her eyes. 

Maeve waved Angelo down. He protested. “Angelo, please…” The man backed away, only stopping when he reached Maeve’s desk. “Why aren’t you taking the money?” Maeve asked, sounding defeated. She latched onto Angelo for comfort. 

Lucia strolled up to the desk. “Leverage… why else?” She placed her hands flat on the desk and leaned in closer. “I’m no fool, Maeve. You don’t trust me and neither does Angelo.” The feeling wasn’t one-sided. Lucia didn’t trust the siblings either. When Maeve was approached by the Grand Families in regard to membership, she went straight to Lucia about it. She infiltrated the alliance just like the Rosenheims did. Lucia, however, worried the alliance would tempt Maeve into double crossing her. Angelo’s debt ensured Maeve’s obedience and loyalty. “You may be free from Maurice, but you, Angelo, and your Red-Light District belong to me so long as the debt remains.” She would clear Angelo’s debt when everything fell into place. Those harsh, brazen words fell on top of Maeve like a mountain. 

“Conniving snake! We should have expected nothing less from you! You’re not different than Alexander and the rest!” Angelo tsked. Lucia slapped him without hesitation.

“Be careful with your mouth, Angelo or I’ll tack on some interest. Don’t ever compare me to those wretches. Understand this. My actions may seem deplorable, but I’m in perpetual survival mode just like you.” She directed with her pinky and pointer at the duo. “There’s a hierarchy even among the High Families. I’ve been mistreated, abused, demeaned, and overlooked just like you and Angelo have your entire lives. The only difference is our backgrounds. The table isn’t round, Maeve, Angelo. Nor is it equal. It’s a diamond and not a very pretty one.” The Hightowers were at the very top while the Lightwoods and the Aschermanns were at the bottom. Even someone like Ishmael was above her when all he did was kill in Alexander’s name. “This little dick measuring, boys’ club has terrorized Wych Elm far too long enough. The tides of change are coming but it’s up to us to steer its course.” Once the High Families’ table finally crumbled, Lucia would construct another from the remnants. She told Maeve to wait out the storm a little longer. If Maeve could overlook Lucia’s deceptive transgressions, she was welcomed at the table alongside her. She left the thought on Maeve’s desk for her to sleep on. “Anyways, I’ll be taking my leave now.” The next time the two women crossed paths, it would be at the masquerade. 

The office furniture stood no chance against Angelo’s wrath. With Lucia gone, he could release his urges. Maeve wasn’t pleased about the destruction, but she understood and allowed him to be. “We should have stuck with our original plan.” He finally relaxed and combed his hands through his hair. Before Lucia bought their debts from Maurice, the Sinclair siblings intended to murder him before skipping town. Deviating from that was Angelo’s heaviest regret. He and his sister were rats pinned in a trap. “We escaped one pimp just to fall into the hands of another.” Angelo punched a large hole in the wall. A pained groan from his mouth filled the room. 

“I know what you’re going to say next, ‘Why did we ever trust her? We should have declined her offer to buy our debt from Maurice.’” Lucia said the answer moments earlier. Survival mode. The second option was the safer deal. The smarter one. “Two former sex workers with no education, resources, and limited money probably wouldn’t have survived long in the world outside this cage of a town.” She tapped her fingers on the suitcase, pondering over the events of their lives thus far.

Angelo pressed his forehead to the wall. “Yeah, but at least… At least we would’ve been free.” Maeve reminded Angelo that part of being smart, or the very least wise, was knowing one’s limitations when faced with a disadvantage. 

“Honestly… would we have truly though, Angelo?” Maeve apologized for her bleak negativity. Their turbulent history had affected her outlook on life. “Had there been a third option, I wouldn’t have shaken her hand.” Maeve resigned herself to their fate at Lucia’s mercy. Angelo brought up being thrown under the bus if Lucia’s plan failed. Maeve’s response was pulling out the rosary Lucia gifted her years ago after she was freed from Maurice. She, nor Angelo, were religious people, had never been, and probably never would. The rosary, for some odd reason, eased her troubles even though the person who gave it to her was untrustworthy. The false hope of some Divine Intervention was probably why Maeve held onto it for as long as she did. “We have faith.” She told him. Although, her voice wavered when she spoke. 

“Let me ask you this, Maeve. If this all works out in the end like Lucia believes it will-wants it too…will you sit beside her?” Angelo never met his sister’s eyes. He looked out the window, observing the fleeting afternoon.

The answer was no. Maeve had no desire for a place at Lucia’s table when the end result would only benefit her and possibly the Aschermanns too. A new era built from the remnants of the crumbled one wouldn’t succeed. It was foolish. Because total destruction guaranteed success. Nothing could be left behind, not even a piece, which meant Lucia also had to be destroyed.

 

“Fuck me…” Angelo closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and exhaled sharply. How did Lucia find his bedroom? And how did she get into his bedroom? Lucia Lightwood relaxing on his bed as if she belonged there damn near sent Angelo into a stroke. She was committed to ruining his day further, it appeared. Angelo demanded Lucia leave without an explanation for her trespassing into his private space. “Were you? You were in my things!” The dresser and nightstand drawers were ajar. Another wave of anger washed over him. The room grew hotter. Angelo was the source. “Get out!” Lucia didn’t budge. Instead, she rolled around his bed, rousing his anger up another degree. The sight turned her on. She licked her lips seductively. Lucia wanted Angelo madder. She intended to push him to his limit. Without breaking eye contact, Lucia slowly pulled up her dress, stopping just before her lace panties. Angelo’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I don’t want to see that.” Again, he barked at her to get out. 

“You know why I’m here Angelo. You peeped it earlier as we began are meeting.” She licked her pointer, middle, and ring fingers one by one, slowly and sultry, trying everything she could to seduce him. Lucia had to admit the man was stubborn, but he would give in and give her what she wanted. There was no choice in the matter. 

“No. I’m not-” Lucia told him to hold his words for a moment. 

“Maeve’s been keeping a secret from you, Angelo. A very terrible one at that.” The succubus’ face perked up with a smirk when Angelo’s eyes met hers again. She had him where she wanted him. Angelo was informed his debt was cleared (kind of?). The debt the Sinclairs had been paying towards was actually Maeve’s, to his shocked dismay. He stumbled backwards into the wall looking to brace himself against it. “I’m a sister to two brothers myself so, I know how deep a siblings’ love runs.” Lucia moved to her stomach, forward facing Angelo, her devious smirk widening with delight over Angelo’s reaction. “I bought Maeve’s debt from Maurice, not yours. Your sister bawled hysterically when I refused to buy you out too. And when I say bawled hysterically, I mean on her hands and knees groveling and making absentminded promises. So, she and I made a deal between the two of us.” Angelo’s debt was transferred to Maeve per their agreement. The devastated man was kept in the dark by his sister because she feared it would create a rift in their tight-knit relationship. Maeve didn’t want her brother burdened by the guilt. 

The second Angelo accused Lucia of lying, she pulled out the contract and tossed it across the room at his feet. He hesitated picking up the paper, fearful Lucia was actually telling the truth for once. “I’m not reading that.” His eyes darted everywhere around the room avoiding Lucia, reflecting his inability to face the dark reality of the situation he and Maeve were in. “I’m not telling you again Lu-!”

“Keep your voice down, Angelo…” Lucia didn’t need anyone eavesdropping or snooping around Angelo’s door. “Stop being stubborn and look at the damn contract!” She snapped her fingers then pointed at the paper still on the floor. 

When Angelo picked up the contract and read it, his horrified eyes widened to the size of tea plates when he recognized Maeve’s signature. Lucia indeed told the truth. He angrily balled up the contract and tossed it aside. “The nerve of you telling me this six years after the fact.” A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. 

Lucia, annoyed with Angelo’s resistance, tried a different tactic for his submission. She threatened their livelihood. She threatened Maeve. Everything they worked hard to build, would crumble just as it did for old Maurice six years ago. Maeve would suffer the most if Angelo disobeyed or ran his mouth. “I’ll have your sister back on her knees again if it’s what it takes.” 

Surprisingly, Angelo maintained his cool when faced with the heinous ultimatum. “Okay” was all he said. Angelo sauntered towards the woman, arms swinging loosely like a child disappointed it was time to go home for the evening. “I’m not fond of giving out compliments to people who don’t deserve them. But I must admit, your new haircut has heightened your beauty some more.” Lucia almost purred with satisfaction when Angelo ran his hands through her hair, never minding the abrupt conversation change. He massaged Lucia’s scalp with the pads of his fingers, which pleased her more. Her toes clenched. The scent of Angelo’s cologne was intoxicating as well. With her eyes shut tight from basking in Angelo’s touch, Lucia didn’t see the homicidal darkness forming on his face. “The moment you cut off all your hair,” his hands moved immediately to her neck and squeezed, “you decided to grow some balls too, I see.”

Angelo didn’t choke Lucia as hard as he could have. As hard as he wanted to. He applied just enough pressure to have her gasping for air. “The next time your lips part to make another disgusting threat like that one just now, I’ll kill you for real, regardless of the consequences.” He could have ended the woman’s life right there, but it would have been a reckless choice. It also would have endangered Maeve’s life more. Alexander and the others might not have cared for Lucia, but she was still beneficial for the moment. Angelo freed Lucia’s neck from his grip. “Fine… I’ll do whatever you…want…” Under that brave mask was a man smothered by his despair. Lucia’s desire for his body re-opened painful wounds from his past. It pulled him down into a dark place he had barely climbed his way out of the first time around. Angelo’s suffering ensured Maeve’s success. He was forced to keep that in mind.

Trembling while holding on to his resolve, Angelo removed his shirt, choosing to initiate sex first. He had the perfect body type Lucia desired, not too muscular, too heavy, or too lean but an amalgamation of all three. The light trail of chest hair down to his groin and subtle stomach pooch only seen when turned to the side were an added plus. He had tattoos as well. A left arm sleeve and a giant phoenix that covered his entire back, signifying his and Maeve’s rise from the ashes of their impoverished lives. She had the same tattoo as well on her right foot. Angelo told Lucia he was ready to get it over with. There were things he needed to take care of before the Johns flooded the Red-Light District for the night. As Angelo prepared his mind and body for the unsavory deed, swallowing the dread that pooled in his mouth, he tried picturing another woman’s face instead of Lucia’s hoping it would help him perform. 

He looked down and found Lucia sobbing with her head down. Angelo threw back his head and released an irritated groan. Being coerced into sex was one thing, but the crying only made the situation more grueling for him. Uncomfortable, Angelo looked away, giving her a moment to collect herself. That was a costly mistake; Lucia had feigned her tears as a distraction. Her hand inched towards the nightstand’s lamp, fingers coiled tightly around the base. She cracked Angelo in the back of his neck. He dropped to his knees cursing her.

“Let me make one think painfully clear: the next time you put your hands on me like that…” Lucia lowered into a squat. She brushed Angelo’s hair back and whispered words so heinous, his entire body locked up. Lucia, exhaling shaky breaths, placed the lamp back on the nightstand. “That little raggedy watch of yours. Depending on how well you impress me, I’ll buy you a better one.” The man hissed when she tried touching it. He told Lucia he didn’t want another one, especially from her. “Maeve bought you that, I see?” She mocked, clicking her tongue. “Whatever you say.” 

Angelo, groaning, recovered quickly from the assault and returned to his feet. He hoisted Lucia on his hips then laid her down on her back. “Let’s get this over with.” He told Lucia, unbuttoning his pants and climbing on top of her.  

 

The head butler had waited by the front door wanting to catch Lucia first thing when she returned. He had important news to tell her. “I thought you would like to know.” Lucilla had abruptly left the estate not long after Lucia left for her meeting with Maeve. Her mother would be gone for the rest of the week. 

As the head butler informed her of the matter, Lucia was preoccupied with her appearance in the mirror. She had a glow about her which delighted her. Pursuing Angelo in lieu of Bennett, who would have more than likely disappointed her, was the right decision for the woman. She contemplated summoning him to the estate later for a second go round but decided to wait until the next day. Their newfound sexual relationship needed a breather. “Hmm… Good to know the house will be at peace for a few days.” She said, combing her hair with her fingers. The habit had become a reoccurring activity with her new haircut. “Is there…anything else?” Lucia finally turned and faced the head butler. She had a guest waiting for her in the emerald living room. Lucia gawked at the man. “Well? Who are they? And why am I being notified now instead of having been notified earlier?” Lucia wasn’t expecting any guests so late in the evening, nor did she want to be bothered with them. The secondary news made her ill. Who invited the guest without permission from the woman of the house? 

The head butler dabbed his forehead, apologizing for inciting Lucia’s anger. “The gentleman was invited by Lucilla. That’s all the information I have.” The young matriarch was on the verge of splitting a blood vessel. 

She thanked the head butler before storming off. “Fucking Lucilla…” Lucia grumbled as she cut her eyes. 

The emerald living room was empty. There was no mysterious gentleman waiting for her. The aggravating inconvenience was ruining her post-orgasm bliss. She turned her wrath on the commemorative bust of her foremother, Lucinda Lightwood. “Lucinda. Lucinda. Lucinda.” She tsked and shook her head as she circled around the column it rested upon. Every time she saw Lucinda’s image or heard her name, Lucia became possessed by an otherworldly level of rage. “See where they have you sitting compared to that clown you called a son?” On the wall behind Lucia hung a gigantic portrait of Lucilius Lightwood I. Its incredible size was intentional, designed to immediately draw one’s eyes to the painting the moment they walked in. “And here you sit, shoved away in the corner. People only notice you when they’re leaving, not coming.” She leaned into the bust’s face. A wide, evil grin stretched from ear to ear. “Being overshadowed by your incompetent son is exactly what you deserve for turning your back on your gender.”

It was Lucinda who established the Lightwood family. And it was she whose decision led to the generational suffering all Lightwood women came to experience. Lucia cursed the dead woman’s name every moment she got for turning the reins of power over to Lucilius all because his father broke her heart. After her husband abandoned them, Lucinda feared her son would (eventually) be next and did everything she could to keep him close to her at the expense of her future female lineage. But the most nefarious sin Lucinda committed against her family was the creation of the insufferable, repetitive naming system. She designed the naming system as a means of forcing undying obedience by removing all individuality and autonomy from that person so no one would leave the family. And the deranged idea worked, for the most part, minus some exceptions. Lucia struggled when it came to her own identity and self-esteem. She felt like a clone, just another Lucia in a series. Neither the first nor the last one. The damage and blame fell entirely upon Lucinda’s shoulders. 

“Your skin looks so radiant right now. I would love to get the skin care routine you use, but something tells me I won’t get the same result using a facial wash, moisturizer, and serum.” Lucia looked over and saw a man sitting comfortably on one of the tufted sofas. His pompish energy made her take an immediate disliking to him. 

Although Lucia had never seen him around the estate or encountered him before that moment, there was something about his appearance she found eerily familiar. It bothered her unable to figure out if they had met prior, but she had just forgotten. Lucia studied the man. He wasn’t on the tall side. If she had to guess, he was around her height, possibly half an inch taller. His thin build was a little on the androgynous side. The man’s hair was dark, curly, and short just like Lucia’s, but with a fade in the back. He had light facial hair. 

Lucia inquired about their relation. To her chagrin, his answer was vague. He responded that he was just a distant relative. “If anyone else asks, we’re cousins.” The man shrugged indifferently. 

“Why did Lucilla invite you here?” Lucia asked, crossing her hands and taking short steps towards him. She paused just a foot short of the room’s center. A devious grin from the man. The energy of the room changed. Though they had just met, Lucia was unsettled by the man’s presence. There was something off about him. Soon as she got the answers she wanted, her cousin was out the door, regardless of why her mother invited him.  

“You’re not going to take my answer well.” The man twirled his fingers in the air while he sang the words. 

Lucia raised her chin to the man. “Humor me.” She took a few more steps forward. 

The man threw up his hands. “All right then.” Before he answered, he jumped up from the sofa and met Lucia where she stood in the room, leaving half an arm’s length worth of space between them. “I am here to relieve you,” he pointed at her, “of your duties as the Lightwood family head.” He showed all his white teeth when he smiled at her. 

Lucia’s cackles were heard all throughout the home’s first level. Her unruly laughter had her unsteady on her feet. She waddled over to the closest wall to brace herself. All the while her cousin observed her laughing fit with a gleeful smile. “Lucilla doesn’t have that authority, you moron!” She howled even louder with laughter. Lucia was ordained by the previous head, her own father. 

The man shrugged again. “Lucia, you’re telling me information I already know. But the point still remains, however.” The cousin’s lighthearted tone became serious. His smile vanished, lips forming into a line. “Women were never meant to lead this family. You, unfortunately, were a temporarily solution to a problem that couldn’t be resolved at the time. Now that I’m here, you’re no longer needed.” Her laughter stopped. The silence that followed was ominous. She realized the man was serious based on his body language and expression. 

It didn’t matter what the man said. Lucia wasn’t relinquishing her position. History would not repeat itself. The reins of power would remain in a woman’s hands, in her hands. Even if it killed Lucia, she would end her mother’s little coup by any means necessary. Her family’s beliefs held no weight when it was her own father who had picked her as his successor. And Lucia was prepared to fight for what was rightfully hers. “Make no mistake, cousin, I won’t take this lying down.” She said with a tense jaw. The vein in her neck popped.

The man grabbed Lucia by the jaw and nuzzled his nose against hers. She dug into his hands with her sharp nails but couldn’t force him to release her. “I adore stubborn women.” That husky voice whispered into her ear. “And I have ways of making stubborn women submit to me.” He shoved her into the wall when he released her. 

Lucia spat on his shirt. He looked down, wiped the spit away, but didn’t react beyond that. His unnatural composure was creepy. No matter what threats or insults she spewed at him, the man never showed any emotions, never reacted. Lucia wanted him gone. She kept on her person a portable panic button which alerted her security. Five men in suits came running into the living room with guns brandished and surrounded the man. “Please show this gentlemen where the door it.” Lucia, expecting resistance, was stunned when the man complied with security’s orders.

“Trust me when I say this, Lucia. I will be back soon. You can’t get rid of me.” The aura of confidence that radiated from the man aggravated Lucia’s nerves further. She debated on having her security shoot him out back and bury him in an undisclosed location. “I’m here to stay, love, and I’ll keep coming back no matter what.” The last three words came out on a whisper. The cryptic sentence that followed next left Lucia horrified as it baffled her. “Because you and I… Our existences are intertwined.” He said, crossing his fingers, an insane stare in his eyes. Lucia felt a drop in temperature. It was happening again like in the church office with Zalmon and his team. The cold. The goosebumps. The feeling of being suffocated.

“Who are you? Who are you really?” A devilish smirk appeared. The man introduced himself to Lucia as…Luceras Lightwood.