19. Before the Fall
The morning sun poured through the massive windows of the living room, lighting up the dust dancing in the air. The room was huge, filled with soft white couches and gold-framed pictures, but it felt cold.
Thomas Van Alen sat in his favorite leather chair. A thin wool blanket covered his legs, even though the room was warm. His face, once full and tan, now looked like pale paper stretched over bone. He moved his hand to pick up a glass of water, and it shook so much the ice clinked against the glass.
"Please, Dad," Violet whispered. She sat on the edge of the sofa across from him. She was nineteen, but right now she looked like a little girl. Her eyes were red and swollen from a night of crying. "The doctor said if we start the chemo now, we have a chance. We can fight this."
Beside her, eleven-year-old Alexander gripped the fabric of his jeans. His knuckles were white. "Everyone does it, Dad. It makes you better. You have to."
Thomas looked at his children. He saw the fear in Alexander’s trembling lip and the desperation in Violet’s face. He felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest, and it wasn't from the cancer. It was the weight of their hope.
"No," Thomas said, his voice was raspy, and dry, "I’ve seen what that medicine does.
It steals your hair. It steals your strength.
I want to go out looking like myself, not a sickly old man.
I want to spend these months sitting here with you, watching the sun rise, feeling like myself.
I won't spend my last days puking in a hospital bucket and being too weak to hold a fork. "
"But we want you here!" Alexander burst out. A thick tear rolled down his cheek and dripped onto his shirt, "I don't care if you lose your hair! I don't care if you're skinny! I just want you to be alive!"
Alexander lunged forward, throwing his arms around his father’s waist. He buried his face in the blanket, his small shoulders shaking with deep sobs. Violet moved to join them, kneeling on the floor and grabbing her father’s hand.
"Don't give up on us," she begged, "Please. Just try one round. For me. For Alex. We aren't ready to say goodbye. We can't do this alone."
Thomas felt his own eyes burn. He smoothed his hand over Alexander’s hair, his fingers thin and weak. He wanted to say yes just to stop their hearts from breaking, but the thought of the cold hospital rooms made his blood run cold.
A soft sound came from the doorway, the click of a heel on the marble floor.
A woman stood there. She had bright blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun and wore a plain, dark blue dress. She held a tray with a teapot and three cups.
"They are right, Mr. Van Alen," the woman said softly. She set the tray down on a side table. "Love is worth the discomfort. A few bad days are a small price to pay for a few more years of seeing them grow up."
Thomas looked at her and his face lit up, then back at his children who were looking up at the stranger with teary eyes. Thomas cleared his throat, trying to find his strength.
"Kids," Thomas said, gesturing weakly toward the woman, "This is Helena. She is the new housekeeper. She’ll be helping us around the house from now on."
Helena gave a small, sad smile to the children. She stepped closer and handed a tissue to Alexander, "I know I am new here," she said, "but I have seen families fight much harder battles than this. Your father is a strong man. He just needs to remember what he is fighting for."
Violet wiped her face, looking at Helena and then back at her father.
She could feel there was something there, the only sound being Alexander's muffled sniffling against his father's chest. Thomas looked out the window at the garden, his jaw tight, as the blonde woman stood silently by, already becoming a part of their world.
The room smelled like old cigarettes and cheap beer. It sat above a dirty garage where the sound of city traffic never stopped. Around a scarred wooden table sat four people who looked like they hadn't slept in days, but their eyes were bright with greed.
Helena sat at the head of the table. She wasn't wearing her neat housekeeper dress now. She wore tight jeans and a leather jacket, her blonde hair messy. She took a long drag from a cigarette and blew the smoke toward the ceiling.
"This is the one," Helena said, "No more robbing gas stations. No more small-time checks. This is the con that lets us retire."
Theodore Hale leaned back in his chair. He was a lawyer, but his suit was stained and his fingernails were dirty. He spent most of his time helping criminals stay out of jail for a fee. He reached out under the table, squeezing Helena’s knee.
"I like the sound of that, baby," Theodore murmured. "My bank account is looking pretty empty."
Across from him sat Matthias. He was a young cop, still wearing his dark blue uniform shirt, but he had the badge hidden in his pocket. He was the father of Helena’s daughter, Josephine, and he looked at Helena with eyes that were a mix of love and rage.
Carson, their computer guy, sat in the corner. He had three laptops open, cables running across the floor like snakes. He wasn't a genius, but he knew how to break into basic bank files and forge papers.
Helena stood up and walked to a corkboard on the wall. She pinned a photo in the center. It was Thomas Van Alen. He looked rich, handsome, and extremely tired.
"Thomas Van Alen," Helena announced, "Multi-billionaire. He owns the biggest energy company in the state. And the best part is... he’s sick. Early stage cancer. He’s scared and he’s lonely."
Matthias stiffened in his chair, "And what’s the plan, Helena? We just rob his safe?"
"No," Helena said, a cruel light dancing in her eyes, "I’m going to marry him."
The room went dead quiet. Matthias slammed his beer bottle onto the table, the glass nearly shattering, "Marry him? You’re joking. What about us? What about me?"
"Grow up, Matthias," Helena snapped, "It’s a job. I’ve already set the plan in motion, I'm working in his home as the sweet, helpful housekeeper. I’ll make him fall in love with me. I’ll make him think I’m his angel.
Then, I’ll get him to the altar. Once we have the marriage license, that money is ours. "
Theodore chuckled, rubbing his hands together, "A widow’s share of a billion dollars. I can write up the paperwork to make sure you get everything in the will."
Matthias looked like he wanted to hit something. He was jealous, his face turning a deep, angry red, "You’re going to let that man touch you? My daughter is going to live in his house and call him Daddy while you play house?"
"She’ll call him whatever makes us rich," Helena hissed, leaning over the table until she was inches from Matthias’s face, "Think about the life Josephine could have. Private jets. Mansions. We won't have to hide in holes like this anymore."
She turned back to the board and tapped the pictures of the children.
"He’s alone. No brothers, no sisters. His wife died in childbirth years ago along with a third kid. It’s just him and his two brats—a nineteen-year-old girl named Violet and an eleven-year-old boy, Alexander. They’re soft. They’re grieving. They’ll be easy to handle."
Helena reached into her bag and pulled out a small, clear glass bottle filled with a colorless liquid. She held it up to the dim light, watching the fluid swirl. The men stared at it like it was made of diamonds.
"What’s that?" Carson asked, squinting from behind his glowing computer screens.
"Patience," Helena replied with a cold grin, "Thomas thinks he’s fighting cancer. He will think the chemo is what’s making him weak. But once I’m in that house, his 'chemo' is going to get a little help from me. It won't kill him fast. It’ll just make sure he doesn't get better. It’ll make him confused. It’ll make him sign whatever Theodore and I put in front of him. "
Theodore let out a low laugh, "I can have the new will ready by the end of the week. We’ll make sure the bulk—the real meat—goes to his loving wife."
Matthias was still brooding, his arms crossed tight over his chest. He couldn't stop thinking about another man being near Helena, "And the kids?
Violet and Alexander? They aren't stupid, Helena. The girl is nineteen. She’s going to notice her dad getting worse while a stranger moves into his bedroom. "
Helena turned to the board and ran a sharp fingernail over the photo of Alexander, "The boy is a piece of cake. He’s just a kid who wants a mother. I baked him cookies and listened to his little problems the other day. I already have him wrapped around my finger."
"And the girl?" Matthias asked.
Helena’s finger moved to Violet’s face. "The girl is the only real hurdle. she’s protective, and she hasn’t warmed up to me yet. But I’ve got a plan for that bitch, too." She looked over at Theodore. "Theodore, remember that last job? You saw that girl and said you wanted to make her your pet?"
Theodore sat up straighter, his eyes gleaming. "Yeah..."
Helena smiled, and it was the most evil thing in the room. "Well, congratulations. If this goes right, I’ll get you a very sexy nineteen-year-old pet. To the rest of the world, she’ll die with her father. But for you... you can keep her wherever you want."
Theodore grinned, "Now you’ve really given me a reason to work fast."
Carson tapped a key on his laptop. "I’ve got the Van Alen house plans pulled up. Cameras in every hall, high-tech locks. I can loop the feed for you when you need to meet us, but you have to be careful. One slip-up and we’re all dead or in a cage."
Helena leaned her hip against the table, "There won't be any slip-ups. I’ve spent my whole life waiting for a score like this. I’m going to walk into that mansion as a housekeeper and walk out as the richest woman in the country."
"Don't forget about me and Josie while you're at it," Matthias stated.
She looked at Matthias, her voice softening just a little, "I’m.doing this for you and Josie. Think about it, Matthias. She’ll grow up with the Van Alen name. She’ll have the best schools, the best clothes. She won't even remember this dump. We’re giving her a kingdom."
Matthias finally let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping. The greed was winning over his jealousy, "Fine. But if he touches you more than he has to, I’m going to have a hard time staying quiet."
"He’s a dying man, Matthias," Helena mocked, patting his cheek, "He’ll be lucky if he has the strength to hold my hand."
Helena walked to the window and looked out at the city. Somewhere out there, Thomas Van Alen was sitting in his luxury chair, completely unaware that the woman of his dreams was about to become his worst nightmare.
Violet stood on his left in a soft pink dress. She reached over and squeezed his hand. "You look great, Dad," she whispered.
On his right, eleven-year-old Alexander stood in a tuxedo. He kept fixing his bowtie, his face glowing with a huge grin. He was just happy to see his father smiling again. The house had been so quiet and sad for so long, but then Helena had arrived, and the lights seemed to come back on.
The music changed to a slow, beautiful song. The heavy wooden doors at the back of the church swung open.
A tiny girl with big, curious eyes stepped out first. It was four-year-old Josephine.
she wore a white dress that puffed out like a cloud, and her golden hair was topped with a crown of tiny daisies.
She held a basket in her small hands, carefully picking up a single pink petal and dropping it on the carpet.
She took a step, stopped, and dropped another one, looking very serious about her job.
"Look at Josie," Violet giggled softly, leaning toward Alexander. "She’s trying so hard not to drop the whole basket."
Alexander chuckled, his eyes fixed on the little girl. "She’s so small. She looks like a walking marshmallow. I bet she's going to eat those petals later."
Then, Helena appeared.
Her blonde hair flowed over her shoulders, and her white lace dress trailed behind her like sea foam.
She didn't look like a housekeeper anymore, she looked like the woman who had saved their family.
As she walked down the aisle, her eyes stayed locked on Thomas.
She didn't see the guests or the flowers. She only saw the man waiting for her.
Violet stood perfectly still, her hands clenched so tight around her bouquet that the stems began to snap. She watched the way Helena’s lace veil caught the light, and a cold shiver ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.
"I still don't like her," Violet whispered, "Look at her, Alex. Look at the way she’s looking at him. It’s like... it’s like she’s a wolf looking at a lamb. There is just something about her that’s wrong. It’s too perfect. People aren't this perfect."
Alexander didn't even look at his sister. He stood tall in his tuxedo, his chest puffed out with pride. He watched Helena with wide, adoring eyes, his face lighting up.
He rolled his eyes at Violet, his lip curling in an annoyed sneer, "Ugh, would you just stop it for one day?" he hissed back, “You’re just jealous you’re not the only girl in Dad’s life anymore.
.. or in mine. I’ve got Josie to take care of now.
You hate that he’s happy because it means you’re no longer the center of the world. ”
"Alex, I’m serious," Violet pressed, "She came out of nowhere. Dad is sick, and suddenly she’s the answer to every prayer? It’s too convenient."
"It’s called love, Violet. Try it sometime," Alexander snapped, turning his back on her to get a better view of his Dad and Helena, "We have a real family now. We have Helena, and we have little Josephine. They are far nicer to me than you’ve ever been.
They actually listen to me. They don't treat me like a baby.
If you want to be miserable, go sit in the back, but don't ruin this for Dad. "
Violet felt a lump of lead settle in her stomach.
She looked from her brother’s stubborn, angry face to the woman at the altar who was now taking her father’s thin, shaking hands.
Helena turned her head just a fraction, her eyes meeting Violet’s for a split second.
There was no warmth in them, only a cold victory that made Violet’s blood turn to ice.
Just then, little Josephine reached the front and sat down on the floor right by Alexander’s feet, looking up at him with a grin. Alexander reached down and patted her head, making the little girl giggle.
Helena reached the altar and took Thomas’s shaking hands in hers. She leaned in and whispered something that made him laugh softly. The priest began to speak, his voice echoing through the quiet room.
"Do you, Thomas, take Helena to be your wife?"
"I do," Thomas said. His voice was stronger than it had been in months. It didn't sound like the voice of a dying man, it sounded like a man starting over.
They swapped rings, simple gold bands that caught the light. When the priest told them they were finally husband and wife, Thomas leaned forward and kissed Helena.
The church erupted in cheers. Violet forced a smile, and Alexander clapped so hard his hands turned red. Little Josephine jumped up and down, her flower basket swinging wildly. Thomas held Helena tight, pulling his new family close.
In that moment, the cancer felt miles away. They weren't a dying man and his help anymore.
They were a family.