Chapter 25: CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: A VISIT TO ROYALTY.
"How are you doing today, my love?" Mom walked in, a plate of cookies in her hand.
"I'm perfect. Just feeling a little bit down, that's all." I assured, hiding behind a plain face.
"Is this about Jamie?" She asked.
"It isn't about Jamie. It was never about him, and it will never be about him." I blurted out unconsciously.
"Didn't think you'd hate him that much after he saved your life." She said, handing over the plate of cookies.
I stared at the spherical chocolate cookie in my arms. Blissful and sweet to eat.
"Do you know that I love you?" She wrapped her arms around me as she cuddled.
"I know you do." I hugged her back, dropping the cookie softly on the bed.
"And you know I want what's best for you." She stared into my eyes.
I nodded in the affirmative, not ready to speak my thoughts out.
She stammered a bit but got a chance to catch her breath before she began. "I really don't know if this is helpful, but the thing is… You have to redeem yourself. You've been moody ever since you heard that Jamie's locked up."
I cut in, halting any more words she planned on spilling out. "It's not about Jamie. I have never thought about him even though he rescued me." I took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm just feeling a little bit down, that's all."
"He's the guy, right?" She asked
"What's that?"
"He is the owner of the baby." She confirmed her suspicion. "Seems it all adds up."
"The baby's dead. We are nothing but business partners; it's sealed." I averted my gaze.
She rose up, staring at me like the child she believed I was. "Sealed, you say."
I kept my head down, not wanting to be judged by her eyes, which spoke more than just words.
"I just want to make sure that you're alright." She flashed a smile before heading out the door.
My phone buzzed; a notification ring followed. With a hunch, I grabbed it, unlocking it the next second.
The headline read, "CEO of Leon, Jamie Leonardo, has fled after his brutal actions towards Sir Williams."
I clutched my phone as I stared at Jamie's photo. His well-chiseled chin, his wicked smirk, his broad chest… I just couldn't stop thinking about it.
How would he look after his torture period? The questions kept rolling in my mind.
This was it. The life I had chosen to live, the life I wouldn't have to be with any man nor shower praises upon any man except my father, who had made me who I am.
I couldn't be feeble at this point; I needed a day off. A day where all my thoughts would be sorted out.
My eyes suddenly caught hold of a black card: "Monsieur Alexander." It was his house address, the Palace of Heights.
Thoughts of seeing him again crowded my mind. Knowing I had sent him away while he tried to cheer me up, it felt spiteful to walk up to his doorstep and expect an embrace.
"I'll take my chances."
The well-lawned entrance, as well as several guards layered in checkered-colored uniforms, greeted me as I approached his penthouse.
The guards were all armed with rifles, some with bows and arrows, which I believe were quite outdated in modern times. They all held up stern faces, no familiarity attached and definitely no visitors.
"Good day, kind sir." I greeted the bald guard who seemed to be in charge.
"How can I help you?" His voice deep and unfriendly.
"I'm here to see Prince of Heights." I said in a clear voice.
"The prince is busy at the moment. No one is allowed to see him, including punny bitches who just want some hardcore." His face still stern.
"Excuse me!" I flushed.
"I can't grant you access." He pushed me out of his sight with his gun, warning me not to get on his nerves.
"You've got some nerve." I grabbed my cellphone, putting a call through to Alexander.
"Suit yourself." He said.
"Hey Alexander..."
I couldn't help but let out a loud laugh when the guard was asked to let me in. He had grunted upon hearing the order, pained that he couldn't show off what manly power he had.
"The prince said you're to escort me to the entrance." I faked a smile.
"Hell no. My boy here is going to do that, not me." His eyebrows curled upwards, his tone not giving out a glint of good.
"You feeling big because the prince let you in. You just got lucky; next time you won't get to make that call."
"Beat it."
He clutched his hand, trying to call out the fear in me. "What did you just say?"
"If you're so bold, why don't you just go back to your post and keep up the good work?" I let out a smile.
He grunted as he moved back to his post. His facial expression crowded with disappointment.
"Hey Arte." Alexander opened up his arms as I walked in.
"How have you been doing?" His arms wrapped around me as we hugged each other.
"I'm barely holding out, but I'm fine." I pushed him away slightly.
"What about a tour?" He raised his hands up, waiting for a reply.
"Sure, I would love that."
Alexander led the way, taking me through long passageways that were filled with white and gold interior designs and different paintings from the 19th century.
"You love art?" I blurted out, anxious to know what he thought about it.
He chuckled, halting in his footsteps. "Art is life after all."
My eyes were fixed on the painting of a naked female slave being beaten by her fellow females. "These are billion-dollar pieces, I must say."
"Their abstractivity is giving, the colors, picture, and the strokes all give out pieces of information. This lady in the picture must have been bought by a rich Dutchman or king. They're jealous of her luck and plan on showing her who is really the boss. Am I right?"
Alexander's worried looks made me keep quiet, wondering if I hadn't said something out of place.
"That's my grandmother's story. Regina III of Hyperion Heights and the mother to my father." He sighed, staring at the picture. "She had been bought by my grandfather to be a maid, but love found its way to them, and they battled our with the conflicts."
"They must have truly been in love."
"They were, but life had its ways of setting them apart. Gave my grandfather dementia with a touch of cancer, made him die a ruthless death, leaving my grandmother all alone with my father." He pointed at the painting to the right.
I stopped my jaw from falling as I set my sight on the masterpiece. It looked like puzzles of different sizes hurled up to create a diverse scene.
"Your grandmother was a hero. She was the one who put an end to the slave trade in Hyperion Heights." I gasped.
"These are kind of my mom's paintings.
"She did what was best to set the table straight." He let out a smile. "Come, I want to show you something."
I followed behind him as he led me to the basement, which I believed was secluded given the lack of proper ventilation and grave animosity in the room.
He moved to a corner, pushing the wall till something swung open. Turns out there really was a window.
"These right here are my creations. The one thing I learnt from my mom before she passed away."
"Wow," I exhaled.
The paintings all looked realistic, modern drawings of seaports, beaches, historical events, and more. He had more than just talent; he was passionate about art.
"Don't tell me you stopped." I motioned towards him.
"It was always my dream to pursue art. The history behind the color mix, brush strokes that held the secrets of life and told them in an explicit way." He found a chair to sit in.
"Why did you stop?" I sat beside him.
"Family's expectations; had to go study abroad, get used to the ground checks and investment criteria. Lead the secret to a successful business life just to come run the family's business." His tone soft and full of regrets.
"Pursue your dream, Alexander. It shall set you free, bring out that hidden passion in you, and maybe one day you might just own the biggest art gallery the world has ever seen." I patted his back.
"It's too late, Artemis. There is no turning back at this point in time."
"It's never too late, Alexander. You can build your world of art, focus on your dreams, and be at peace with yourself."
He rose up, his facial features looking like he had been crying for days.
"You can't understand Artemis. I have greater responsibilities now, and I don't plan on bailing out on them to pursue whatever drama or passion I have."
"That's not it."
"That's just the reality; some things are better left alone than taken care of."