Chapter 20
“Good evening, Ms. Albright,” Emily greeted the elderly woman with a professional smile. “Thank you so much for coming all the way out here to speak with us.”
Agnes Albright sniffed with disdain. “I don’t appreciate being summoned, Ms. Lazarus,” she snapped.
“Both Levi Harris and Matteo del Campo offered to speak with you, but I suggested that this conversation would be best between women.” She walked over to the head of the table. “Please, have a seat,” Emily replied, gesturing to one of the chairs around the conference room.
Agnes looked at the chairs and sniffed again, her nose lifting higher. “I don’t know why you demanded to speak with me. And I don’t have time to dilly-dally, my dear.” She moved to the window, not taking a seat.
Emily sat down and pulled the folder out of her notebook. “I appreciate your busy agenda, Ms. Albright. However, I need to discuss your son’s…activities.”
“My son,” she said with increasing fury, “is none of your concern!” Her sharp, blue eyes moved over Emily’s figure, or what she could see of it over the top of the conference room table. “If you are pregnant, I will not allow my son to marry you! You’ll just have to get rid of the brat!” She headed towards the door. “I will not have my lineage sullied by a member of the working class!”
“If you walk out that door, I will be forced to take these pictures to the police.” That stopped the older woman in her tracks. Slowly, Agnes Albright turned, glaring at Emily.
But before the older woman could speak, she caught a glimpse of the pictures on the table. She was confused for a moment. Then she gasped. “What is this? Pornography?” She lifted her glower to Emily. “Did you bring me all the way out here just to show me disgusting pictures?”
Emily leaned back in the leather chair. “These are pictures of a room in your son’s home.” She laced her fingers together, waiting.
She didn’t have long to wait. “You’re lying! My son is a good boy! He wouldn’t have this…this…filth…in his home!”
Emily shook her head. “Not only does he have this filth in his home, but he’s obsessed with me. In a very dangerous, demented way.” She laid out more pictures.
Agnes’ mouth fell open as she stared down at the images. “This…!” She was stammering now, horrified and disgusted as she clutched the pearl necklace at her throat. “This isn’t Gerald! He wouldn’t do things like that!”
Emily laid out more pictures. “This is what your son wants to do to me,” she said softly. “And I’m not going to let him.” She waited a moment, then said, “Either you can do something to protect me, or I will protect myself.”
Agnes pulled back, her lips pursing in fury. “What can you do? You’re nothing! You’re just a cheap, pathetic hussy!”
Emily didn’t bother to roll her eyes. “I am a large stock holder of the bank that owns your building,” she explained, laying out another document. It was a letter warning the Albrights of a possible eviction notice.
Agnes Albright’s jaw dropped as Emily continued. “You also own stock in Wayside Industries,” Emily pulled out another document. This was a financial background check. “You’re heavily invested in this company, Agnes.” She didn’t bother with formality as she gained the higher ground. “One word from me and your stocks will be worthless.” Emily tilted her head slightly. “I’m surprised that your financial advisor didn’t urge you to diversify, Agnes.”
Agnes’ face paled. “You can’t do that! You’re nothing! You don’t have that kind of power.”
Emily pulled out another letter. This one was signed by Matteo del Campo. “I can,” Emily said calmly. “And I will. Your son is sick. He needs help.”
“He doesn’t!” Agnes nearly screamed. Then she jerked the lapels of her coat, adjusting her shoulders. “You’ve done something to him! You’re a witch! You’ve dazzled him with a spell!”
Emily laughed, shaking her head. “The wealthy have tried that in the past,” she tsssked. “If you can’t beat ‘em down with bullying or financial manipulations, then burn ‘em at the stake, eh?”
Agnes didn’t like that idea and stepped backwards. “What do you want?”
“I want you to put your son into an institution so he can get the help he clearly needs,” Emily stated clearly. “I want him locked away in a place of your choosing where he can’t hurt me, or any other woman.” She pulled several more sheets out of the folder. “These are police reports.” She watched the woman carefully. “You’ve seen these before. Or you know about these women.”
“Whores!” Anges barely glanced at the reports before she bellowed the word, then visibly tried to regain control of herself. “They were just hookers!” Her eyes were bright with fury and indignation.
Emily couldn’t feel pity for the woman as she continued. “And because these women were poor and vulnerable, you and your lawyers were able to manipulate the system to get the charges buried.” Emily sighed. “Unfortunately, there isn’t anything the police can do to help me either, other than a very public investigation.” She pulled out a card from her folder. “This is the name of a very good publicist. She will assist me to ensure that every one of the details the police found in the past will be revealed. And anything the police find in this investigation,” she let her hand hover over the other pictures, “will be revealed. Your son is a predator, Agnes. And you know it.” She pulled all of the pictures close, but slid the letters closer to Agnes. “You’ve manipulated the system to hide your son’s mental illness and the abuses he perpetrated against these women. So, I want you to ensure women are safe by putting your son into an institution, so that he cannot get out and continue to harm others.”
Agnes wasn’t giving in. She sat in the leather chair, her hands clasped tightly together as she glared back at Emily. “There’s no physical evidence that Gerald did any of this!”
Emily tilted her head slightly and nodded. “You’re right. The police weren’t able to find any forensic evidence.” She paused, letting her words sink in before she continued. “But you know that Gerald did this to these women.” She pointed to the pictures of women with bruises on their wrists, ankles and jawline. “And you know that he wants to do this to me.” She patted the folder. “You manipulated the system to your advantage. But I have friends in higher places, Agnes. I guarantee that you won’t win this time.” She let those words sink in. “I’m going to make you understand how those women felt, how powerless they felt, when you covered up your son’s demented crimes!”
Emily stood up and walked towards the doorway. “It’s your choice, Agnes,” she said softly. “But I’m not bluffing.”
And then she walked out.
Agnes sat at the table, reeling with fury and impotence. Surely, there had to be some way to suppress this…this idiocy! Her son wasn’t sick. He wasn’t! Boys will be boys, that’s all, she assured herself stiffly.
Slowly, she stood up, adjusted her jacket and looked around. Was someone still watching her? With a sniff of indignation, Agnes lifted her chin and walked out of the conference room. The club was quiet as she made her way out through the front door. Thankfully, she didn’t run into of any of acquaintances. Agnes wasn’t sure she would be able to answer any questions at this point. Not after seeing those pictures and…well, the threat.
Getting into her car, she looked around. The parking lot of this particular club was filled with expensive vehicles. She was just starting to get into her car when a voice called out to her.
“Agnes!” She froze for a moment, wondering if that horrible woman was calling her again. But no, this was a male voice.
Schooling her features to a polite, if aloof, expression, she turned to face whoever was calling to her.
“Agnes!” the man called again, walking over to her, his hand extended. “I guess you don’t remember me.” The fellow was handsome, in a swarthy sort of way.
“Hello,” she replied, noting his expensive suit and leather loafers. She knew that those shoes were pretty pricey, having paid for Gerald’s shoes over the years. Gerald never looked this debonair, though. No matter how much she paid for his clothes, her Gerald could never look this classy.
Sighing, she forced a polite smile. “I’m so sorry,” she said, allowing the man to take her hand. He shook it, the idiot. Didn’t the man understand that, to be a true gallant , he should lift her hand to his lips and kiss her fingers? Oh, for the old days! “I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t quite place your name.”
“I’m Antonio del Campo,” the man replied. “You were at my father’s funeral last year.”
Marquesso del Campo! Now this was a young man worthy of her attention. She brightened her smile. “Yes! Of course! How are you, my lord?” she asked, using the title even though she was American. She liked to think she was connected to the aristocratic world. “How is your wife? A lovely lady. Astoria, is it?”
“Astra,” he corrected. “And she’s doing very well.” He looked back at the clubhouse, then at her. “I heard a rumor that there were some…uh…irregularities with your son’s membership. Are you here to fix them?”
Agnes was stunned for a moment, then she stiffened with outrage. “Irregularities?” She huffed a bit. “I’ll have you know that my Gerald has been a member of this prestigious club since before his father passed over a decade ago! I pay the membership dues every year and cover all of his monthly expenses!” She ran a hand over her pearl necklace, feeling comfort in the gesture. “I guarantee that his membership is perfectly fine!” Agnes lifted her head in affront.
The marquesso’s eyes narrowed down at her and Agnes had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“I must have been misinformed,” he said with a slight bow. “Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help clear up this confusion.” He gestured to the club. “I’ll speak with my brother.”
Agnes was horrified at the possibility. “Why…?” She cleared her throat. “Why would you speak to your brother?”
The man gestured again to the club entrance. “My brother, Matteo del Campo, is part owner of the club. If there are false rumors going about, Matteo is the one who can stop them immediately.”
No! Oh, goodness, if this man asked the owner of the club about the rumors, what if his brother said the rumors were true? They weren’t, of course. Her son was a good boy! But what if the rumors spread?
“Antonio!” another voice called out. Agnes turned to find a man surrounded by bodyguards. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him immediately. Still, the bodyguards indicated that the man was important. Or dangerous. She didn’t know which, but he was handsome enough to give her pause.
“Zahir, you old goat! What the hell are you doing out of Sidrina? Shouldn’t you be back there starting another war or something?”
Agnes was horrified by the conversation, but as soon as the swarthy man said the name of the country, she recognized the other man. The ruler of Sidrina was taller than he appeared on television, but now that she thought about it, pictures of his pretty wife came to her. She was a tiny little thing. What was her name? It wasn’t coming to her, probably because the woman was…had been…a nobody before marrying this handsome fellow.
“This is Agnes Albright,” Antonio was saying. “She’s Albright’s mother.” Agnes stiffened, wanting to be something more than just “mother”. She was important in her own right, wasn’t she?
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” the handsome stranger greeted her. “How are you on this lovely afternoon?”
“I’m quite well, thank you, Your Highness.” Agnes was proud of the fact that she knew the right way to address royalty. Commoners were so ignorant of titles. She definitely wouldn’t refer to someone in this man’s position as “old goat”. How rude!
“Albright,” the man said thoughtfully, snapping his fingers. Agnes held her breath, praying that the ruler of Sidrina didn’t know about the ridiculous rumors surrounding her son! “I think I played poker with him last month.” He grinned. “I won a good sum of money off of him.” He leaned forward. “Tell him to keep his mind on the game. He was too busy watching Emily, the club manager.” He pulled back, then slapped Antonio on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you inside. My wife won a small fortune from you the last time she joined us for poker. I have to beat her total.”
The man snorted. “Not a chance, old man!”
The leader walked away, casually waving to her as he made his way into the club.
Agnes huffed a bit. “As I was saying, there’s no need for you to worry about my son’s reputation. He’s perfectly fine.”
“Good. Good,” Antonio replied, nodding. “Glad that the rumors were false.” He mock-shuddered. “They were very weird!”
And then he turned, walking away.
Agnes couldn’t believe what she was hearing! “Weird?” And then those pictures came back to mind.
“Someone is lying about my son!” she hissed and turned to slide into her Jaguar. “I’m going to speak with Gerald about this little…problem.”
Thirty minutes later, she was standing in her son’s living room, looking around with approval. “I see that the maid is keeping your home adequately clean, Gerald.”
Her son looked nervous. “You hired her, so of course, she’d do a good job.” He glanced over his shoulder towards the hallway. “What are you doing here, mother? You didn’t call ahead and let me know that you were arriving for a visit.”
Setting down her handbag, she stepped deeper into the condo. “I was called into the club that you frequent.” Surreptitiously, she watched her son’s reaction and caught the way his shoulders tightened.
“TBC?”
“Yes, darling,” she replied and moved closer, still looking around. She could tell Gerald was hiding something, but wasn’t sure what it might be. She was sure that it wasn’t the horrible pictures she’d seen earlier. “How often do you visit that club?”
He shrugged and moved to the bar, pulling a bottle of white wine out of the fridge. “I don’t know. It’s a good place to…?”
Agnes wasn’t listening. She stood up and headed towards the bedrooms while Gerald poured some wine. Slowly, afraid of what she might find, Agnes walked down the hallway, ignoring her son’s calls for her to stop. Peeking through the bedroom door, she stopped. With a sigh of relief, Agnes let her shoulders drop. Everything was normal in here. It was exactly as she’d decorated it years ago.
Turning, she stopped in front of the second bedroom. She glanced back at Gerald, who blanched. Immediately, her heart began pounding in her chest. Gerald rushed forward, but came to a skidding halt at the end of the hallway, a glass of white wine forgotten in his hands. “Mother!” he gasped. “What are you doing?” He raced after her. “You can’t go back there!”
Agnes ignored him. She’d bought this place for her son and paid the monthly fees. As far as she was concerned, she could go anywhere she wanted!
“Mother!” Gerald bellowed.
Shaking her head, wondering if she’d been played, Agnes reached for the doorknob, chuckling to herself at how gullible she’d been about her precious son’s proclivities. Sure, he was a bit odd, maybe too easily distracted. But he was a good…!
Agnes gasped as she took in the scene in the second spare bedroom. A naked woman was tied up, gagged and struggling to free herself from the restraints on her wrists and ankles.
For an endless moment, Agnes wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure what to do, either. The woman…those overly made-up eyes begged for help, but Agnes couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything!
“Mother!” Gerald snapped, literally pushing her out of the way as he pulled the door closed. “You need to leave,” her son told her. “Now!”
Agnes stared up at her son, her precious baby boy, and was repulsed. Those images…they were true! The pictures, the police reports…all true! Her son was…demented!
She trembled, reaching out to hold on to the doorjamb as her knees turned to water. “Release the woman, Gerald, then meet me in the living room.” She turned away from the horrible scene, her heart sinking. When her son didn’t move, she spun around. “ Now !”
The one word echoed in the silent apartment.
Gerald snapped to attention, then stepped into the bedroom. Agnes continued down the hallway. When she reached the living room, she sank into the soft cushions, feeling every one of her eighty years.
A minute later, Agnes watched as the woman, now dressed in a tight dress that barely covered her bottom, raced out through the door, muttering about “freak” and “call police”.
“You shouldn’t have come here, Mother,” Gerald snapped as he dropped onto the opposite sofa.
Agnes stared at her son, her precious baby boy and…knew what she had to do. Not just for herself, although self-preservation and maintaining the reputation of her family name was extremely important, but also for society. Her son…she hated to admit it, but her son was a predator. She pulled out her phone and made the call.