Chapter 3 #2
Konstantin tilts his head, studying me like a specimen. "You defend him? Even now?"
"I defend the truth," I snap. I turn to my father. "Dad, tell him! Tell him he's lying!"
Arthur lifts his head. His eyes are red, filled with misery. He looks at Konstantin, then at me. His mouth opens, his jaw trembling.
"Tell him!" I scream.
Arthur looks down at the rug.
He says nothing.
The silence hits harder than a fist.
My knees go weak. I stumble back, gripping the banister for support.
He isn’t denying it. Why isn't he denying it?
"See?" Konstantin says. "He knows what he bought. He knows the price."
"I don't believe you," I whisper, though my voice lacks conviction now. "I don't believe you."
“Enough.”
The word cracks like a whip.
He turns to me and checks his watch.
"We are wasting time," he snaps. "I have a mission to accomplish"
He points to the deed on the floor.
He walks over to me, stopping inches away. "Your father bet the company, but there is a problem, Helena. The company is worthless."
He steps closer.
"Between the debt and the port fees... the deed is underwater. Ten million dollars in the negative." He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't want a bankrupt company. I want value. And since Arthur cannot pay the difference..."
"We have no money," I say, fighting back tears. "Take the cars. Take the jewelry. Strip the copper from the walls."
"Not enough," he says. "But there’s a way to balance the books."
My heart sinks.
He looks at me, at my eyes. "I checked the logs. You run the logistics. You manage the routes. You are the only thing in this company that actually works."
He points to the door.
"So, here is the deal: Option A: I kick you out tonight. I liquidate the company. I sell the Blackwood Queen for scrap metal and fire every employee."
A sob catches in my throat.
The Blackwood Queen. My mother's ashes were scattered off the deck of that ship. It’s her tombstone. If he scraps it...
"Or?" I whisper.
"Option B," he says. "We structure a deal. Since your father cannot pay what he owes in cash, and the company is underwater…"
He looks at me.
"You become the payment. You come and work for me. Use your skills to turn this sinking ship around. Every dollar of profit you generate goes to me until the debt is cleared."
"You want me to be your slave?" I hiss. "You think I'm going to walk out of here with you? I'm not going anywhere with a monster like you."
"I was hoping you would be sensible," he says with a sigh. "But I see you need motivation."
He reaches into his jacket.
Metal flashes in the dim light.
A gun.
My breath hitches.
Konstantin doesn't point it at me. He turns and walks over to my father. He presses the barrel of the gun against my father's forehead.
Arthur whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. "No, please... Konstantin, please..."
"No!" I scream.
I lunge forward, but Konstantin's eyes stop me dead. In them, I see a man who has killed before and will do it again without a second thought.
"The debt is due, Helena," Konstantin says calmly.
He cocks the hammer. The click echoes in the silent hall. "The company is mine. The only question is the price."
He looks down at my father. "Tell her, Arthur. Tell her the terms of the bet and that you owe me the difference."
Arthur sobs, shaking violently. "Helena... please."
My heart is hammering in my throat. I stare at my father, waiting.
Tell him to go to hell, Dad, I beg silently. Tell him you won't let him take me. Tell him to pull the trigger before you let him touch a hair on my head.
I’m ready to fight, to swing the poker again. I just need him to give me the signal. I need him to be the father he was ten years ago.
"Dad?" I gape at him, my voice trembling. "Tell him no."
Arthur’s eyes meet mine, red-rimmed and shaken, but there’s no anger or protective rage in them.
He looks at the gun barrel pressed against the side of his head and then at me. He’s weighing his life against mine.
"He'll do it!" Arthur screams, tears streaming down his face. "He'll kill me! Just go!"
The words hit me harder than a bullet.
I stagger back, the air leaving my lungs.
He isn’t fighting for me. He’s begging me to surrender. I can't believe he’s trading me to save his own skin.
"Dad…" I whisper.
"Just go with him!" he sobs.
Something inside me snaps. The fear evaporates, replaced by a hollow numbness.
The father I was trying to protect died in that crash five years ago, after all. This heap on the floor is a stranger.
Konstantin’s finger tightens on the trigger. He isn’t bluffing. I can see it in the tension of his arm. He will paint the foyer with my father's brains and won't lose a wink of sleep over it.
"Three seconds," Konstantin says. "One."
"Stop!" I hold up my hands.
"Two."
"I'll go!" I scream. "I'll go! Just put the gun down!"
Konstantin pauses. He holds the gun there for a second longer, to let the terror settle, then slowly lowers it.
He uncocks the hammer.
"Wise choice," he says. "Your father sold your soul to save his skin. You're mine now."
He tucks the gun away as casually as if it were a wallet.
He checks his watch. "You have five minutes. Pack a bag. Whatever you can carry."
I stand there, trembling, looking at my father. He’s still on his knees, head bowed, ashamed to look at me. He sold me. To save his own life, he told me to go with the monster.
"I hate you," I whisper to him.
Arthur flinches, but he doesn't speak.
I walk up the stairs, numb.
My life just ended. The Helena Blackwood who ran a shipping empire is dead.
My room is freezing. I grab a small leather duffel bag from under the bed. The zipper sticks, rusty with age, fighting me as I yank it open.
I move to the dresser. My hands move with a mind of their own to grab the essentials. Jeans. Two thick sweaters. Underwear.
I pause at the closet. The door is open, revealing a row of gowns.
My fingers brush against a red dress. I wore it to my nineteenth birthday. My mother was alive then. She had zipped me up and told me I looked like a queen.
I grip the fabric, the velvet soft against my fingertips. I want to take it. I want to pack it to have a piece of that night with me.
But where am I going? A prison? A basement?
Queens don't live in cages.
I let the fabric go. It sways on the hanger. I turn my back on it and shove a pair of heavy boots into the bag instead. Survival gear. That is all I’m allowed now.
I stop at the nightstand.
The silver frame.
I pick it up. My mother smiles back at me.
"I'm doing this for you," I whisper, clutching the cold metal to my chest. "I'm saving the ships, Mom. I'm saving the name."
I zip the bag closed.
When I come back downstairs, Konstantin is waiting by the door. His men have already gone back to the cars. My father is still weeping on the floor.
I walk past him without saying goodbye.
I stop in front of Konstantin.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Let's go."
He opens the door for me.
I step out into the night. The wind whips my hair across my face. The SUVs are waiting, engines idling, white exhaust pluming in the cold air.
I climb into the back of the middle car. The leather is soft. Konstantin slides in beside me.
The door slams shut, sealing us in.
As the convoy pulls away, I don't look back at the house but at the man sitting next to me.
He’s staring straight ahead, his profile sharp and cruel.
He has won.
He has taken the king, the castle, and now... the queen.
I’m Helena Blackwood.
And I sold my soul to the devil to save a ghost.