lexingtonvwhitlock

[lexingtonvwhitlock]

𝕱𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖘

–Suitcases dropped with an echo as I stepped through the heavy front doors of my Savannah residence. The large home that used to be filled with my grandparents and their welcoming presence. The old smell of fresh baked cookies or mixed smells of a grand dinner from my grandmother’s ways of always being prepared to feed anyone that walks through the door is more of a memory in my mind now. Dust and stall air filled the house. Dusty sheets and blankets cover the furniture and lamp pieces now. I stepped aside as I allowed the cleaner to step through to bring the home back to life. Sheets were fluffed and pulled revealing the leather furniture that my grandmother allowed for my grandfather to pick out. I stepped to the opposite side to allow another two cleaners into the home, both walking the stairs to clear the dust and blankets from the bedrooms. I left my suitcases at the doorway as I made my way to the back porch. I opened the french doors, leaving them wide for the stall air to escape and cycle into the warm breeze. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I lifted as I moved to lean against the wood railing of the porch.--

𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰.

– “𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎?” I laughed at the question as I looked over the back yard. Thankful that the landscaping had kept up with the yard even after all of this time.--

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺? 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦? 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 ��𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?

–”𝙽𝚘, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚛 𝙸, 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚅𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙿𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚜.” Beverly was right. I came here to contain as much of the potential issue as possible. I looked back to see the cleaners had moved to the kitchen.--

𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰. 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

–I hung up and placed my phone back into my pocket. I stepped back into the home and raised a hand and a loud shout of “𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩!” escaped my lips before my brain could filter it, causing one of the three cleaners to pause in his steps.--

𝙇𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢 𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙨.

–My grandfather’s study, a room he was particular about anyone being in that room. None of my siblings or myself were allowed. Monroe was beaten for his attempt when we were 16 and curious of the secrets it holds. After his death I still couldn’t bring myself to walk in there. What was there to fear now? I stepped forward to close the door to the study and nodded my head as I stepped away to check the rooms upstairs. After a couple of hours the house was empty of all but myself and the light smells of fresh linen and lemon. I looked at the door of the study. The door itself shined and polished. My feet were heavy as I moved step by step towards it. What was I worried about? The ghost of my grandfather yelling at me for stepping into his room? I shook my head at the ridiculous thought. A squeak sounds as my sweaty palm meets the brass knob with a slow turn. The door popped free with a slow creek. My eyes searched the room before I stepped into it. Dust coated the various walls of books and the large mahogany desk that sat in the center of the room. As a child I thought this room was the largest in the house, though now being able to see over the desk, it was obvious that though it was a large room, it wasn’t any bigger than the bedrooms upstairs. I took a careful step into the room and paused, waiting for a sign or a boobytrap, a security alarm, anything to keep me from moving further. When nothing sounded or dropped or raised from the floor I continued into the study. I wiped the dust from the leather chair before I took a seat. My palms brush over the top of the desk. Finger tips tapped against the dusty wood. I mimicked a time I could remember seeing my grandfather at this desk. I lowered my hand and pulled the drawer free. A key bounced against the bottom of the drawer towards me. I lifted the key and looked around for what it could go to. The chair squeaked in a long loud noise as I turned to look behind me. A file cabinet standing five drawers tall. I stand to bring the key to the keyhole at the top. I turned it and heard the click of the lock release. I pulled the first drawer open, empty. The next three were filled with empty manilla folders. I reach the bottom drawer and find more folder, marked “𝐁𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲, 𝐑𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐓𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞, 𝐋𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧” Raleigh’s folder had the most paperwork busting out of it. I pull each folder up and set it to the desktop.

Immediately I opened the folder marked with my name. Medical records from infancy to 16 were placed inside. Years 15-16 test results and follow up information were listed about a drug being tested, “𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐛𝐨” was stamped over the final results. I looked at Monroe’s next. His paperwork was similar to mine and also marked “placebo” on his final results. My fingers brush over the top of my sister’s folders. I heard Raleigh’s voice over my shoulder, “ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜʏ ᴍɪɴᴇ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ.” I really hated my mind sometimes. I slid the folder closer to me.“ɪ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ? ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴀ ʜɪᴛʟɪꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴏʟᴅ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ?" I looked up to see that imaginary image of Raleigh leaned over the desk. Back to making my thoughts louder for me to pay attention to. I opened the file cautiously as if the papers would jump out at me. I read over the papers, in infancy there was a lot of sickness in the being. Not much happened in toddler-middle school age. Ages 14-15 there were angry notes written. The word 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 being circled over and over in red pen. I remembered the day I had found out. “ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ. ɪ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ.”I looked up at the image of Raleigh, her face contorting to the memory of that day, the tears streaking her face as she begged me not to say anything to anyone. I shook the thought from the surface.--

𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.

–I read over the pages. I stopped when I reached the test results page. The drug being tested was the same drug we were testing currently for mass production. My eyes widened at the list of side effects that were reported by Raeigh. The main one was the miscarriage and grandfather marked “𝗦𝘂𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗳𝘂𝗹” by the pregnancy termination confirmation. The final page in the folder was a follow up from the day before her accident. She was given a dose of the medication. I sat back in my chair, shock, anger, sadness swirled within me. “ɢʀᴀɴᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ.” I closed my eyes to control what I could of my thoughts. I reached for my phone and pressed against the screen on Beverly’s name, placing it on speaker.--

𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳?

–”𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑, 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚁𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚢?” I flipped through the pages of Beverly’s folder and reached the final result page, scared of the response to my next question.--

𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴?

–”𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚜, 𝙸 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞?” I shook my head. My grandfather made it clear that he didn’t want the girls to continue the line, leaving my brother and I to carry on his legacy. I roll my shoulders and close the file folder with a hard slap.--

𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘣 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘺 𝘦𝘨𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯. 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘉 𝘰𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵.

–”𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗?” I rake my fingers over my head, combing back the strands that had been knocked out of place.--

𝘙𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩…𝘙𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭? 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵.

“𝙾𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝙶𝚘𝚍…”

𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩.. 𝘉𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘙𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨…. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

“𝚆𝚘𝚊𝚑, 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗…𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎, 𝙻𝚎𝚡, 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐.”

–She wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t catch my thoughts as they flooded my mind. How could this have happened? How could the man I worked most of my life to make proud be the same monster that destroyed my younger sister.--

𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘪𝘵.

[lexingtonvwhitlock]

–The sun was bright and blinding as it lit the sky above the treeline. Gravel crunched beneath each step as the small rocks shifted beneath my Tom Ford mahogany croc print chelsea boots. “𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙼𝚛. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔.” I waved at the groundskeeper as I continued on my walk to the family plot. I was a month late from my usual visit. Work had become all-consuming, causing me to lose track of time with everything and everyone. Whispers and murmurs of lawsuits and litigation moved through the offices. I didn’t understand why, all the numbers I laid eyes on were positive, so why were there talks of falsified documents and testing? I shook the thoughts from my head as I reached the small gate. I lowered to unclip the latch and stepped through.

My hand grips the bouquet of flowers tightly in my fist, the plastic wrapped over it crinkles beneath my grip. “𝔸𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖.” I let out a groan as the dark-haired woman stood a few steps before me. I didn’t respond, ignoring her greeting as best I could. She stood in front of the large Black marbled stone that centered the cemetery plot. I pulled the sunglasses from my face as I stepped aside. In front of me a white marble slab marked 𝑅𝒶𝓁𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝒱𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓉𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀, 𝐵𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝟣𝟫𝟪𝟦-𝟤𝟢𝟢𝟢. I kneeled, pulling the dead flowers from the vase. I replaced them with fresh vibrant pink Oriental lilies. I could feel the woman’s eyes on me as I pulled my handkerchief out to wipe the dust from the top of the stone, clearing any debris from the gravestone. “𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕨𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕪 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥.” I scoffed as I stood.—

𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳.

–”ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕕. 𝕊𝕙𝕖’𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕕. 𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕪 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤𝕟’𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕗 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕠𝕣 𝕚𝕗 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤." My eyes raise from the marker and to the woman standing at my grandfather’s grave. Anger in the way she talked about the sister we lost 24 years ago. Raleigh would’ve been 40. My mind sometimes wandered off in thoughts of who her life would’ve been had she been given the opportunity to live past sixteen. It was clear I was the only one that showed any care.—

𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵, ����𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵?

–”𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕, 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕀 𝕨𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕞𝕪 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕠𝕣 𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤. 𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕧𝕠𝕕𝕜𝕒 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟. 𝕀 𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖. 𝔸𝕟𝕪𝕨𝕒𝕪.. 𝕐𝕖𝕤 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦. 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥.” I raised a brow as I waited for her to continue. I didn’t have time for this slowed conversation. I gestured, twirling my hand in a motion for her to keep going. “𝕊𝕠𝕠𝕠𝕠….𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕤, 𝕞𝕠𝕞 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙. 𝔽𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕡𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕠𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕜. 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕀 𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕡𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕, 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕗𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞. 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕞𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞. 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤. ℕ𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕠𝕗𝕗 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕟𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕦𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕤.” I raised my hand for her to slow down as my brain tried to keep up with what she was saying.—

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯? 𝘐-

–I couldn’t even finish my sentence as my brain fogged over with the information being provided.“𝘔𝘩𝘮.. 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘥𝘢𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘰… 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘰, 𝘓𝘦𝘹. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘰? 𝘋𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺, 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺? 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶?” My parents were restricted with the money they received, contracted by my grandfather, capped at only a specific amount for them to survive on. Calculated and re-calculated every year to ensure they were not “𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙙” according to Vaughn and Vander standards. My parents had a spending problem, which included gambling debts and loan shark troubles. My grandfather left the company to me in fear that my father would run it to the ground or get it tangled in with crimes that would defile the Whitlock name. I stared blankly at my sister.—

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺..

–”𝕐𝕌ℙ, 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕔𝕜. 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕣𝕠𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕥 𝕥𝕠𝕠.” Monroe and I had never gotten along growing up, too close in age and in constant competition to be the favorite among all of the Whitlock children. I snapped out of my thoughts with the clap of a hand to my shoulder. “𝕊𝕠 𝕀’𝕝𝕝 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟. 𝕃𝕖𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕦𝕡 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟.” I rolled my eyes in a side glance towards her.“𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥? 𝕐𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕤. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕤.” She wasn’t wrong. My life has been a constant planning board. I couldn’t get through a day without a plan for the day. Couldn’t fuck my wife without a plan for how I wanted to torture her through the moment to plan for the perfect night together. I watched as Beverly walked away from the cemetery. “𝒮𝑜, 𝒷𝓇𝑜, 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝓊 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒹𝑜?” I turned my head to see sixteen year old Raleigh, the same as the last time I had seen her alive, sitting on top of the gravestone. I knew it was my imagination. My brain's way of trying to give me someone to talk to as I process what Beverly said.—

𝘐- 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦.

—“𝒯𝓇𝓊𝑒. 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝓌𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝓌𝓈. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹’𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑜𝓂 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝒿𝑜𝒷. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝓌𝓈.” She.. I.. whatever this was, was right. I should’ve suspected something was up before now, but my own family had been the priority, making it easy for things to slip through the cracks. I pointed to the flowers with a questioning brow. “𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉? 𝐼’𝓂 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝒹, 𝐼'𝓂 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹.” Right. A vision real enough that I managed to trick myself that it was real. I looked down, my eyes reading and re-reading the words engraved into the stone.—

𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.

–”𝑀𝒽𝓂.. 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉?” I shook my head, I didn’t have an answer yet. I kneeled down to press the palm of my hand to the stone. A silent prayer to my sister, the one I had lost and not the vision created by my stress. I stood slowly as I looked at my grandfather’s gravestone. “𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯.” I nodded and cleared my throat. I tucked the black hankerchief back into my jacket pocket and gave a hard tug to the lapels of my jacket to straighten it. I needed to go to the main office. I needed to observe what was really going on, instead of trusting that I knew what was happening day to day. I slipped my sunglasses back on my face to block out the brightness of the sun. A running list formed together in my head as I stepped away, leaving the graveyard. Tell my wife, pack a bag, take a flight to Savannah.—

[lexingtonvwhitlock]

Continued..

My mind escaped into lost thoughts; 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍. 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚑 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚜. That day my thoughts were interrupted by my father's voice, a loud boom that echoed through the silenced conference room. “ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ? ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴅɪᴠᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪᴛᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ. ꜱʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴏɴ. ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴏᴏ. ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ᴘᴀᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜɪᴛ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ᴍᴇᴛ ʜᴇʀ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʀᴀɴᴅꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴀᴘᴘᴏɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴇɢᴀᴄʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴏʏ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴄᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀʟʟꜱ ᴏꜰꜰ. ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ʀᴏʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ.” That day my fists met my father’s mouth and jaw to quiet the poison he was spewing into the air until I was removed by security from the conference room.  Though, my father wasn’t wrong. I had changed. Words that @OriginalPlSTOL spoke in heated conversations before she left.I wouldn’t have said ‘pathetic’ but I wasn’t as ruthless as I had been raised to be. I had lost the drive that I had when I was running things as an apprentice to my grandfather. Was this just the way Whitlock’s were supposed to be? Ruthless and cold, even with a child in the home. I had lost myself. Lost myself in the love I have for @OriginalPlSTOL, letting her become my obsession, my life in ways that I never intended. It wasn’t until she became mine that I dreamed of being the perfect husband, the perfect father, but what did that look like? Is that something that’s even possible? To be perfected as a person? My father and grandfather did not set the examples of perfection. My grandfather cared for his family but it was always; hard work, business, money. That was the motto for the values of our family. I decided when I met @OriginalPlSTOL that I would strive to do better than they had. I would be successful with both my marriage and my company. Little did I know that strive for perfection would lead to heart breaking arguments. Both my company and marriage had suffered. Courts and mediation for testing results I hadn’t signed off on had become a weight on my life, causing rifts in conversations as the stress seemed to pile on more and more. @OriginalPlSTOL gave me the opportunity to improve with the space. That space is when I realized the pharmaceutical company was never my dream. I enjoy helping people, trying to serve a higher purpose than myself. Reviewing test results was not serving any purpose for me. Sitting in constant meetings about litigation, mediation, and settlements had become a boring, never ending game for me. As the days became months, things had started to grow darker and the lack of motivation to move from the bed became stronger. I reached out to a therapist in hopes to find myself. My pride and ego being the biggest factors working against me. Goals of taking those few moments to step back and listen rather than explain or defend what didn’t need to be. Taking the time to just breathe and learn what I didn’t know. How would I work to be the father and husband I need to be if I wasn’t hearing those needs or waste the ticking seconds of life trying to defend my reasoning to save my ego? When @OriginalPlSTOL returned from her trip from Paris I found ways to create a much needed balance. Family time was for family. No phones. No laptops. Only activities to spend my time with the two most important people in my life. I would continue my position as CEO but work would only take the time I chose for it to. Eight hours a day. Less on Fridays. If my family had an issue with that decision they could hire an assistant to deal with it. I decided I would choose for myself. Live how I chose and not what my family bullies me into. Building a successful billion dollar pharmaceutical company was a dream I kept alive only as a promise to a man I considered more of a father than a grandfather.

As Sidaleigh rounded the corner I reached for her and lifted her in the air, peppering kisses to her cheek with a playful growl. Her little toothy smile melted my heart everytime I was able to see it. She is so much like her mother. I told myself when @OriginalPlSTOL and I first met that she would be the death of me. Now I had that doubled with a mini version of her running around with my heart wrapped around their little fingers.. I ran another loop around the foyer stopping in front of my office doors. My eyes peered through the glass, locking with Alice’s gaze and I gave a smile. I pulled away from the stare when a tiny voice shouted out towards me. “𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞!” I let out a laugh as I  took a big step to move closer to the running toddler. I managed to catch up and lifted her off her feet just before the dogs reached her in their mini stampede. Darcy’s paws slid across the hardwood into Ridley, causing his paws to lose traction. Roger in his chubby run, couldn’t stop himself as the raccoon slid and rolled into the retrievers.The three collided against the glass of the backdoor. Sidaleigh giggled as I walked with her to the door. I let her pull it open to let the three out to play in the rain. I heard soft steps against the wood and a faint shuffle of what sounded like crinkling paper behind me. My eyes squinted towards the living room, shifting my focus to listening for the soft noises. I took a step towards the kitchen to peek in the direction of the office. The door remained closed with the dim desk lamp light still shining through the windows. Maybe it was just Bartok flapping his wings in his sleep, stretching out to readjust. He did seem to like to hide in the tree since we had put it up. I set Sidaleigh down as she tugged at me to set her down again. I let her run ahead into the living room. A shrill scream sounded. I took off in a hard sprint to the next room, fearing someone had nabbed her. I slid, losing traction on my socks when I attempted to stop. I lost control of my balance and fell to the floor. My palms smacked the floor, keeping my face from hitting. I look up to to see @OriginalPlSTOL reaching out from the presents, tickling at Sidaleigh’s sides as she squirms and giggles.--

𝘖𝘩 𝘯𝘰, 𝘚𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩! 𝘚𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶!

–”Daddy save me!” Sidaleigh playfully shouted as she grabbed at the fingers tickling her sides. I jokingly jumped up from the floor as if I was a hero striking a pose. I reached out to pull Sidaleigh from @OriginalPlSTOL’s hands. I leaned in close to distract Alice with a kiss to her lips. I pulled back when I felt Sidaleigh’s tiny hand push me back so that she could lean between us for a kiss to her cheek from both of us.- 

𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

–The question was posed to @OriginalPlSTOL but Sidaleigh nodded her head with a serious narrowing of her eyes towards me. “Yes”. I nodded, matching her serious face as I looked back at Alice.-- 

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘚𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯.

[lexingtonvwhitlock]

“𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 '𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎”

–The morning had started with @OriginalPlSTOL taking over my office to get her work done for the Christmas weekend. I had closed out and shutdown my laptop the night before, setting out of office auto replies to my emails. This is the first time in a while that there wasn’t a plan of  flying somewhere or having to prepare for an event whether it was birthdays, weddings, baby showers, etc. It was nice to just be home for once. To be in our home. Just us. Just our little family. I finished fastening the last button of the shirt Alice had picked out for me for the day. It was little details like that, that I enjoyed about my wife. The way she catered to things like making sure I dressed appropriately and looked better than I would if I was left to my own devices. I heard little feet patter across the floor downstairs, running towards the room. I stepped out to see Sidaleigh reaching for the windows of the french doors to my office. I ran down the stairs, sliding on the bannister of the last section of the polished wood in order to swing myself over it in order to grab Sidaleigh before she slapped her little hands against the glass. I didn’t want her to distract @OriginalPlSTOL from the tasks she promised would be the last before she turned off from her work. We needed this time 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧.

  The last year and some change had been a struggle. I barely survived the thought of losing my wife when Sidaleigh was born. @OriginalPlSTOL was the one in the coma but I felt like I was the one slipping away and barely clinging to life. A complete wreck at the thought of a life without her. A life we worked so hard to live 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧. Through it all, she still wanted to try for a second child. The fear of losing her in labor resurfaced each time she mentioned it. I was at war with myself, wanting to give her everything but not wanting to risk losing her. A constant push and pull of my heart and mind. The doctor warned us that it would be difficult. Though she left out just how difficult it would be to achieve or how much of a toll it would take on @OriginalPlSTOL. The doctor also left out how heavy that toll would be or how difficult it would be to maintain the happy life we had found if Alice couldn’t have the second child she now dreamed of having. 

I went to scoop Sidaleigh up in my arms to move her away from the doorway. This appeared to be her plan as she took off in a waddled run down the hall and into the foyer, looking back to see if I was chasing behind her. Hearing her giggles had me laughing right along with her. I continued chasing her like 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 in Scooby Doo  with my arms stretched in front of me as I followed her. Every time we ran past the french doors of my office I peered through the glass of the windows at @OriginalPlSTOL. Her eyes glued to the screen in front of her as the room darkened from the storm coming in. She was the brightest in the room. Brighter than the dim lamp that glowed in a soft white light. Part of me wanting to tell her to fuck work for the day and come join us. The other part of me didn’t want to bother her at all because it was her dream. Alice’s escape to Paris left a bad taste in my mouth at the thought of the city. Angry that it had taken her from me. Memories of hiding in the catacombs with her on our last visit together had become difficult to think about. 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙨 the city had welcomed my wife. 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝 I had been without my wife and daughter. 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙨 I spent making two cups of coffee only to drink one, leaving the second to sit on the counter, forgotten until the next morning when the action would be repeated. 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙨 of the extra plates of breakfast, lunch, and dinner going to Ridley and Darcy when the plates would be forgotten on the countertop. 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙨 of barely being able to focus at work, only wanting to sleep through the days as if that would fix the problem. 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙨 of a beard forming from not having the strength to trim and clear the untamed hairs from my face. 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙨 of showing up to the office disheveled with a shirt half tucked in. Ties that didn’t match were left hanging against my shoulders untied. I was an absolute mess as each of those long days passed. The longer she stayed away, the more it felt as if this was the end. 

𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎? 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚢𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍?

 On the days that those thoughts would surface, my hands would clasp at the tie around my neck. I would cross my ends, tightening the silk until I felt the tightness cutting into my skin, cutting off the air in my throat. I wanted to physically feel the way I did in my mind, suffocating, straining to speak. Not that speaking mattered, who would I talk to in an empty house? Myself? A ghost of my wife left behind with her clothes and shoes left behind in the closet? Three months into Alice being in Paris, there was a day at the office that became my last before I became remote and only appeared on the screen for meetings .

[lexingtonvwhitlock]

Lexington Vaughn Whitlock

                           “ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴘᴜꜱʜ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ

                            ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴜɴ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ.

                                        ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴛᴛʟᴇ,

                                       ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀʀᴋ,

                                     ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴜᴘ.”                     

 --The room filled with bright flashes as photographers snapped pictures. Palms connected for handshakes as businessmen came together to network and trade business cards as a way to spread company names around. My family’s company was one that was already known around Georgia, but needed it’s name spread around the northern states and around the world. Vander and Vaughn is one of the leading pharmaceutical companies known for its family values and it’s hometown southern charm. Started by my grandfathers long ago. I was chosen and trained to continue the southern charm and smiles as I traveled around and shook hands, nudged shoulders, shared drinks and cigars with other big named companies in conferences such as these. I didn’t mind the time away but hated schmoozing with some of the most arrogant doctors from every state. Growing up I wanted to be a doctor because I thought that was who I needed to be to help people, but it was after having to attend conferences and sales meetings that I often heard the way they would brag and boast about themselves. They showed no care to those they claimed to care for. It was all about money. That's what pulled me away from medical school and into International relations. I would be able to travel and actually talk and potentially help people around the world. I was asked by my family to use the volunteer work (I was sent abroad during the summers to build homes for the areas in need or delivering food to the elderly), that I had to complete in college, in order to get the Vander and Vaughn name in both gossip and the news as the company that cares. The company that is here to help everyone and anyone in need. I was not thrilled with the idea but I…I just wanted to help people, if that meant getting the name out and flashing a few  smiles while I’m swinging a hammer around on a house for a family that needs a shelter, why not. Now that’s all I did. Smile, nod, and toss out an overly used tag line for our company.

The annual medical conference used to be a trip that I enjoyed. When I was eighteen my grandfather had chosen me to travel with him to the conferences. I watched when he spoke as smooth as a glass of the finest brandy. His audience took to his southern charm like a sponge. I admired him more than I had ever admired my father. When it had come time for him to retire I was more heartbroken than he was. These trips had been the time that we had bonded away from my father trying to keep me or my grandfather busy. As most kids bonded on fishing trips or hunting trips, we bonded on these conferences. I would watch him talk on the podium and stand his ground against the doctors who spoke against our company. It was through these conferences that I learned how different my grandfather was to father. He cared. He answered questions from the heart and not just a script handed to him. You felt his words as he talked to the  crowd. 

At the first conference, he explained that I have to have heart in everything I do and that’s why it was important for me to be the face as he grows older and begins to fade out. It wasn’t until the last conference he attended that I understood what he meant by his words of growing old and fading out. He stepped up to the podium, it started with a stammer of words before he gripped a hand to his chest. You’d think a room full of doctors would've caught on sooner and moved before he fell from the podium and off the stage.This was only the start to the world changing around me. A stroke eventually followed that made his once smooth words become a driveway of gravel rocks, hard to understand. I was thankful he survived it at the time, but I was sorely upset that I was left to attend these conferences without him at my side. They weren’t the same without him. The fun had been shattered with it’s fragments embedded into the conference floor next to the podium. I continued to go though, a promise to my grandfather, to keep the company presence and to counter the assholes that would have shit to say about his company. I would be his strength as he grew weak. My father refused to attend the conferences, for god-only-knows what reason. My eldest sister would accompany me only to get her rocks off with any doctor that could feed into her Grey’s Anatomy fantasy. My younger brother, Monroe, carried no interest and continued working with my father, wanting to remain in his footsteps. As my other two sisters got older, they fell into the same patterns as Beverly and eventually my father kept them at home to prevent damage to the Vander and Vaughn name. Little did we know,Tifton, the baby of us all, had got caught with not only a baggie of cocaine but a surgeon's face between her legs 𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 a press conference. Right on the fucking stage. There was a question about whether she did it out of distracted thinking or if she was rebelling against the family. My thoughts were, being the youngest out of five, and being in constant rivalry of beauty, brains, men, and attention from our father with both Beverly and Raleigh? She did it as a way to get everyone’s attention. She got it. She was now hidden within the company, surrounded by publicists and body guards as well as my other siblings to prevent any further surprises from happening. Apparently I was the only one who could be trusted. The only one who was not an acting liability to this company.

My hand had just cleared the last shake as I did a quick squirt of sanitizer and got it smeared over my palms just as a set of reporters made their way to me. I gave my usual smile and prepared my mind for the anticipated questions. I had started to grow tired of the same questions over and over. I missed having my grandfather’s words in my head during these conferences but he was at home, resting. With cameras glaring I knew he would be watching or listening so I needed to keep to the words I was given. The routine of “Vander and Vaughn are making strides to improve their formulas to  better the quality of life. We have the best scientists and chemists working together to provide the best quality.” I repeated the scripted line over and over in my head just as the first reporter reached me. The planned question was aired.-- 

𝘝𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘝𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.

--I presented a smile to the camera as the microphone remained and then the reporter pulled it away. “𝙼𝚛. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔, 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢’𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚅𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚗 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝙸𝙸, 𝚠𝚒���𝚕 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚅𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝙰𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊?” I paused at her question. Was this a hoax? Was this one of those internet bullshit things going around? I wanted to check my phone to confirm the question but I couldn’t. I couldn’t give the camera anything for them to run with. I was supposed to know this already. I WAS FUCKING ALREADY SUPPOSED TO KNOW!! Why didn’t I?  My mind took in the words that she spoke. My thoughts circled trying to find the answers, battling between truth and media training. My grandfather wouldn’t want the world to see me break for the loss of the only man of the Whitlock family that actually gave a fuck. He also wouldn’t want the world to learn how fucking shitty my family was to leave me to learn about my grandfather’s passing through a fucking news reporter. I cleared my throat, trying to be mindful of the pause I took.

𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴. 𝘔𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱. 𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘌𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦.

--I lowered my head, unable to speak any further as the anger of my family not sending me any notifications of my grandfather’s passing or that he was even ill during my time away, seemed to make its presence known. A hand moved to rub my palm over my lips, scratching the stubble that was starting to shadow over my jaw. I made my exit from the crowd, bringing my fist to the wooden door frame and sending a seemingly loud crack through the sound of everything around. Both hands pressed into my hair as my fingers smoothed the strands back with rough tugs as I walked towards the main entrance of the building. My palms dropped to the push bar of the door, the door gave minimal resistance to the hard push I gave, swinging out in a wide gate for me to cross through as the metal that framed it shook in it’s clash to the wall before it slammed back. I turned down the alleyway, out of sight, out of direct view of the city around me. I hated this place. The loudness of it. Car honks, sirens. The world was spinning around me as the thought of knowing I no longer had my grandfather crept in. My palm pressed to the brick wall, catching me as I leaned forward in my stance just to find some semblance of breath. Was I breathing? Could I breathe? My chest was tight and my throat felt like someone had force fed me a roll of sandpaper.

 “𝕃𝕖𝕩𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟.” I looked up to see one of the suits that worked for the family approach. Sent to keep the family affairs in order. I straightened my stance and tugged at my suit jacket. I tried to clear my throat but the sandpaper feeling wouldn’t clear enough for me to respond.“𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕖𝕕. 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕕.” All I could do was nod to him. Was this about my grandfather? It better be. What else had my family left me out of and not told me about? I pulled my phone from my pocket and saw no messages from any of them. I went to tuck the phone back into my pocket and felt the poker chip I always carried. It stopped me. A gift from my grandfather. Something I made sure to always have on me. I flipped the black chip across each knuckle, over the back of my index finger under the middle finger, over my ringer finger, stopping when it hits the space between my pinkie finger in order to bring the chip back, repeating knuckle roll  of the chip over and over, switching hands in the process to calm my nerves in the travel back to Savannah. 

The flight from Seattle to Savannah was a long 6 hours and 21 minutes. It felt longer as my eyes stared at the silver ticking hands of the black clock face of the stainless steel Breitling Aviator 8 watch that wrapped my wrist. When the plane landed I was out of my seat with the buckle thrown to the seat beside me. Within an hour I was at the main headquarters of Vander and Vaughn. I tucked the poker chip in the front outer pocket of my suit jacket as I jerked the glass door open. The airlock hissed as it caught from the force and slowed the door from slamming back into place. There was no hesitation in my steps as I made my way back to the elevators. Fingers flexed against the button in a hurried press for the elevator to level quickly. My impatience debated on rushing for the stairs; perhaps I would beat the elevator to the floor at the rate it seemed to be taking. Before I could turn my feet in the direction of the stairway the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. I stepped in and pressed the button for the top floor, pulling my ID card from my inner pocket to swipe over the keypad for the elevator to approve the floor lift. I leaned back against the back wall of the elevator. The leather of my black Todd Derby’s squealed in their shifting as my foot tapped impatiently.  Time seemed to stand still between each shift from one number to the next as each one dinged and lit up above the doors. When the elevator finally reached its destination I pushed off the wall like a bull charging ahead, head first, leading my body to follow. I straightened my stance as my feet caught up in the steps. I slowed as I reached the door. There was no bustle of crazy. The usual scurry of workers moving about with papers flapping and fluttering in their hands as they walked across the floor was not the case today. Only the sound of my shoes meeting the tiles of the floor was heard, causing an eerie echo through the silent hall of this floor. My hand reached for the handle of the door, leading into the conference room before my fingers could make contact with the metal handle, it lowered in a turn and the door was pushed open. Monroe’s gaze met mine as his head poked through the small opening he created on the other side of the door. 

“ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.” My brother stepped aside and pushed the door open for me to walk through. I slid past him. 

My eyes searched the faces of my family that lined the round table of the room. My aunts, uncles, siblings, mother and father, all living members of my family are present in one room along with my grandfather’s estate attorney. 

“𝐀𝐡, 𝐋𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐕𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 — 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧. 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭.” Terrance Newman handled my grandfather’s estate for as long as I could remember. I reached for the last open chair in the room and rolled it beneath me, forcing myself to fall into it as Newman spoke about my grandfather’s will. “𝐒𝐨, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐫. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐫. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫. 𝐈 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐫. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬.” Newman took a breath and cleared his throat in what felt like the longest drawn out cough I’ve ever experienced.

“𝙂𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙩, 𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙢𝙖𝙣, 𝙬𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙙𝙖𝙮.” My father’s voice boomed through the room. A reminder of where my own impatience stems from. Newman nodded before another quicker throat clear sounded, causing the entire room to erupt in aggravation. What was on that paper that had Newman nervous to read out loud? A hand covered over my lips as a smirk stretched my features beneath it. Maybe gramps wrote “fuck you all, you get nothing.” I would be fine, Vaugh Whitlock II was not only a businessman but he was one of the slickest men when it came to cards. He taught me how to play when I was young, what started as lessons of how to not get punked turned into playing in poker competitions to work on my poker face. “𝙰𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚜, 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛.” Words he spoke often and words that I constantly thought of anytime I took a break and escaped for a while in search of the underground tables and games I could hit in my travels. 

Lost in my thoughts I hadn’t noticed my father leave his chair and cross the distance between him and Mr. Newman. He jerked the paper free from Newman’s hands, the sound of the crinkle was heard at how tight Newman had held it in his grasp. My father raised his hand to stop Newman from advancing towards him for the document.

 “𝙄 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙑𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙑𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙣, 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙤𝙧, 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙮...𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨𝙤𝙣….. 𝙇𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙩𝙤𝙣….𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏?! 𝙄𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝘼 𝙅𝙊𝙆𝙀?!” I stared as the statement left my father’s lips. His eyes glared at me before he tossed the paper to the table and walked out of the room. My mother followed behind him without a word to me. My sisters fought for the paper to read what they would be receiving and bragged about the various jewelry and material things they had been given. My mind circled in thought. Me? I was to take charge of the company and its expansion, too. I sunk back into the chair as the weight of it all started to press.

 “ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ? ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜɴᴇʀᴀʟ.” I looked up at Monroe as he spoke his words. The room fell silent as the air suddenly felt cold. To the point of chilling me to the bone.--

𝘐 𝘞𝘈𝘚 𝘕𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘛𝘖𝘓𝘋 𝘏𝘌 𝘋𝘐𝘌𝘋. 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘖𝘍 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘛 𝘛𝘖 𝘞𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘊𝘙𝘠 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘞𝘌𝘙𝘌 𝘎𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘕 𝘉𝘜𝘛 𝘕𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘕 𝘎𝘈𝘝𝘌 𝘛𝘞𝘖 𝘍𝘜𝘊𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘛𝘚 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘔𝘈𝘕. 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘖𝘕𝘓𝘠 𝘊𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘚𝘌𝘓𝘝𝘌𝘚. 𝘕𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘋𝘌𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘝𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘠𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘠𝘖𝘜’𝘝𝘌 𝘉𝘌𝘌𝘕 𝘎𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘕.

--My voice raised as the anger increased with each word that left my mouth. I pushed off my chair and left the conference room without another word passing my lips. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Present Day~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

--Fingers pressed to my temples, circling to try and ease the headache that had been plaguing me for days. Stacks of papers and files littered my desk. Some were to be reviewed, some were to be filed away, some I wasn’t even sure what they were or how long they had been sitting. Everyday, it seemed to be a new stack or someone organizing the scatter of files from the previous day into stacks. Three years I had been trying to keep up, trying to get the trials together, trying to keep Vander and Vaughn pharmaceuticals on the map and in the game. I continued my press runs from time to time but not as often as I had in the past. My travels had been cut down severely with the new responsibility of reviewing the files and trials. With keeping this company afloat.

 The last vacation I had been allowed was over a year ago. I had managed a poker game in Seattle, one that I would never forget. A woman had made her way to the table, dressed in the names I had only heard of on televised fashion shows. Her eyes were mesmerizing and kept me distracted most of the game. A mistake on my part as she caught on and used my distraction to her advantage and gave me a good run for my money. The night had led to drinks and long talks but names were never exchanged, at least not real ones. I was taught long ago that when you’re in the public eye, playing in the shadows, you 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 give your real identity. She’d told me her name was Pistol, my alias, as always, Mr. LaLa because it seemed more unsuspecting and was ultimately humiliating to a table full of men using names like “Brawler” or “Knuckles.’ 

‘Least I found it funny. 

Though, Pistol? Not nearly as thrilled or entertained with the name and refused to spend the night with someone called LaLa, so I’d partially broken the rules and gave her only the first three letters of my name. In the end, we parted ways and I haven’t heard from her again, so no harm was done. Though, she had me captivated, even hungover and partially sober. She was mesmerizing. I probably would’ve given her my soul if she truly wanted it. I couldn’t remember  much about what I had said that night. I remembered tossing a few cheesy lines that were met with beautiful eye rolls and her lips to mine just to get me to stop talking. God, that fucking smile she gave got me the most. It was an image in my head I actually missed about that night. The problem was I knew nothing about her but she knew my face and three letters of my name. Like the night? She was gone. And unlike me? She had a better chance of finding me than I would her. Though, I was thankful there were no tabloids released. No gossip spread. Maybe she hadn’t figured out who I really was, or she didn’t see the point. Either way, I was thankful for her discretion.

A knock on the door broke my thoughts and I looked up from the papers that surrounded me. A couple of suits peeked in and stepped into my office to take a seat in front of my desk. The weekly board meeting. Fuck. I sat up and smoothed my hands through my hair.--

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯. 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴.

---The board members nodded and another knock turned my attention to the door as my mother stepped into the room. My eyes turned to the black suit of the group Mr. Turner as he started to speak, “𝐌𝐫. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤, 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐞𝐝, 𝐅𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬.” I filled through the files on my desk and shuffled, trying to read the tabs of the manilla folders and the sticky notes posted everywhere. My mother’s heels clicked across the tiled floor in echoed steps as she made her way to my desk and plucked the files with ease. She handed each one for me to look over before she passed them to suits.--

𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦?

--My eyebrows raised as I questioned the brief set of numbers I was able to see with the flash of paperwork my mother allowed for me to set eyes on before she passed the files over to the board members.

 “𝒪𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓁𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝒸𝑒𝑒𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒟𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀, 𝓈𝑜𝓃.” My mouth moved to respond but no words left it as Mr. Turner and his team of suits nodded and raised from their chairs. “ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ꜱᴇᴇᴍꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ. ᴡᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴡᴇᴇᴋ.” I nodded and watched as they left my office. My mother took the files they handed her and tucked them away into the filing cabinet behind me before she stepped out of the office.

I sat back in my chair as my fingers tapped against the scattered papers and files that covered the surface of my desk. My thoughts circled back to the day of the will reading and the scribbled letter my grandfather left behind. I reached into my pocket and pulled the letter free of my pocket. I kept it on me as his last few words reminded me of his faith in me to keep his dreams alive. I unfolded the crumbled paper that was worn from the folding and unfolding as I repeated this action anytime I had doubts or second guessed my decisions. The paper unfolded with ease as I laid it to the desk to keep the delicate page from tearing as my fingers brushed over the lettering to read through every word as if I hadn’t memorized them since the letter was placed in my hand. The letter spoke of my grandfather wanting to expand his company all along the South, wanting to be a leading pharmaceutical company with family values and southern charm. His go-to lines for commercials and interviews. I gave a soft laugh, though he meant those words he said them so often I wasn’t sure what was meant by family values. Especially with what the family had become thus far. Since his passing. My father remains in the shadows and somehow avoidant with his silent but obvious bitterness towards me. My mother, with her anger at my pertinent questions, and her near constant need to be in charge of handling files. My sisters are off doing whatever away from the family to keep from being tapered to the company. My brother, as always, the family suck-up that remains at my father’s side to do his bidding, always keeping his bitterness towards me slightly more obvious than my father. “Family values.” I hesitated about the expansion purely for the fact that my parents seemed too excited for it, as if there was an unknown plan between them…? It made me uncomfortable. Was this how they would set me up to fail? Pushing the expansion ahead before the company was fully prepared. Was it too soon? Could I actually handle running this company as my grandfather believed? My eyes roamed over the crumbled paper once more, taking in the words of confidence that grandfather left with me.  “𝔻𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖. 𝕐𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕟. ℝ𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥.” I folded up the letter and tucked it back into its place in the inner pocket of my jacket and smoothed it back over.--

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