Summary

He was the last surviving heir of an ancient dynasty richer than royalty. She was the most seductive and radical social climber. Different from night and day; one desired redemption the other revenge…with only one thing in common, their undying hatred and love for one other.

Forward

This is not you average romance and no this isn’t another reinvention of Romeo and Juliet, to tell you the truth it’s more Sampson and Delilah-Batman and Catwoman than Romeo and Juliet. This epic answers the age-old question “Why did Sampson love Delilah?”

A lot of the characters in this story are based on real people in history, which I’ll reveal when the story is over, butsome of youycould guess who’s inspired by who, you’ll see. This is what I call a “What if” account, taking famous events out of history and seeing what would happen if so and so happened instead (For example: What if the Kennedy’s really did murder Marilyn Monroe and Frank Sinatra and the mob set up President Kennedy’s assassination in revenge after finding out he was behind her murder) It’s mostly rewriting history and having it go the way we hopedit would go. We all wished that the fake Anastasia were the real Anastasia instead of some ruthless talented fake out for money and fame. That it what this epic is…a big “What if?”

Intro

The New York Times

June 14, 1956

The Infamous VC, The Mysterious Death of Queen Catherine, The Alleged Survival of the Last Heir, and The Lost Jewels of the Calvanov Dynasty

By Vera Madison

Actress turned Princess Catherine Ann Stratton, worshiped by millions, “her people” didn’t follow her out of fear, they followed her by a greater drive, love. When someone fears a person they’ll do anything to satisfy them until they’re not a threat, but when someone loves a person they’ll do anything for them and even if that person stops loving them or betrays them they’ll keep on loving them; for a loved one can do no wrong in the eyes of the beholder. That was why she was so powerful, not only by fear, but by love. Why they loved her, is still a mystery, even to this day. Why would they love some actress turned princess, who did nothing on the throne, so much? Love her to an extent of claiming her a saint and praying to her as if she was Christ. What did she do for them? She was more Marie Antoinette than Jesus. She did nothing for them and was never there for them, ever. She spent more time spending money than in their welfare. The only person there for them was the infamous VC, yes thee 1920s outlaw, VC, who robbed banks, killed many men, and kidnapped the Princess Catherine in her teens. Who was this VC and why would this outlaw have such interest in such a torn country? Was it because of Catherine?

James Drake, tried for Catherine kidnapping in ’26, was the first suspect, for he did have tattoo letters “VC” on his upper back. But strangely he was found innocent after Catherine got a threat by VC on the night of June 23, one of the nights where James was in jail on close watch. It was proved he wasn’t VC, but even with proof it still didn’t add up with the evidence of the tattoo, what did it mean? It’s too great of evidence to be coincidence. VC, what does it stand for?

Then there’s the speculation that Catherine made the whole thing up as a cover to her supposed scandalous side, a speculation made by the actor Orin Riles, who stared with Catherine in the movie Demon with an Angel’s Face in 1928. Catherine was rumored to be romantically linked to the actor before her marriage to Prince Regaldi. There was something about their relationship that was somewhat odd. When Catherine became a suspect in the murder of conservative film Director William Tyler , after they found a robe with her initials on it at the scene of the crime, Orin was her alibi. His alibi was quite odd, on the night of the murder he claimed that she was over at his loft running lines together, he claimed he accidentally shot her in the shoulder with what he thought was a unloaded gun while they were physically performing a scene from their movie. He testified that because of getting wounded she spent all night at his loft getting privately treated by his doctor, who was also present in the courtroom. The alibi was bought since Catherine did indeed have a built wound. It was believed that perhaps their relationship was more than romantic when was later known that Orin Riles was indeed involved with the mafia. After the movie was done filming he became engaged to Maria Casoni, daughter of mob boss Tony Casoni, an engagement that broke when Orin left her at the alter after discovering Catherine’s engagement to Prince Reginald. As we all know Catherine’s father Ormond Stratton, was believed to have helped the mob bootleg liquor, which allegedly resulted in Catherine being kidnapped at age nine by them after Stratton made a mistake. And coincidently the majority of men VC killed were mobsters. Could Orin’s theory be true? Could VC be Catherine out for revenge? If so, then was her death murder? Suspiciously after Catherine’s death in ’31 from a supposed “boating accident” Orin Riles disappeared without a trace. Or are “her people” right, did Prince Reginald murder her in fear of her becoming too powerful?

Other rumors to the mystery, speculate that VC is none other than the last heir Colin Arthur Stanimir Calvanov, whose body wasn’t found in the rubble. Prince Colin, the one and only son of the lethal ruler Stanimir Stephen Sergei Calvanov, born in 1904, he was the one destined to follow in his father’s glorious tyrant footsteps. Was there perhaps a plan to save the heir? The little heir was very sickly from an unknown illness, too weak to survive the brutal shooting. And once again we’re brought to Ormond Stratton, the ambassador involved with the mob, he was the one who brought the family to safety in New York; he was the one who was supposed to protect them. Why did he fail to save them? The assassinators were never found nor tried; they were believed to be terrorists-revolutionaries. One fixation about the Calvanov Dynasty is that they had billions dollars worth of jewels hidden away and never found. Only the family members knew where it was hidden, and so with one alive, the precious gems can be found. Could VC be the last heir? If so, is his constant kidnapping and possible murder of Catherine a vengeful act on Ormond?

Here’s my valid account on all the claims and how they all fit together. But this is far more than another accusation; this is my story, the true story of my parents…

Enemies & Lovers

St. Mary’s Convent

New York City 1939

“Will you quit telling these lies child!”

“My father is Orin Riles!” I demanded to Sister Emily.

“Orin Riles, the actor. Orin Riles does not have a daughter and everybody knows that.”

“How could everybody know he doesn’t have a daughter when nobody knows who Orin Riles really is?”

“Nonsense,” she laughed.

“Just wait…my father will come for me.”

“Well, till then child, till then.”

I wasn’t prepared for something like this to happen. I never would have dreamed I’d end up here, but it happened and here I was, all alone at thirteen mistaken for a pathological liar of an orphan. I saw the way they looked at me, how their eyes revealed such pity for me…all but one

“I believe you,” a woman states as she emerged from a dark window sill.

“Really?”

“Tell me, what kind of famous actor keeps his own daughter a secret?”

My father loved me; it wasn’t like he kept me a secret because he was ashamed of me. Oh, did he love me, I was his everything and he was mine. Although I loved him I never really understood him and the things that he did. My father didn’t have one name, he had six different identities, and each came with either a different accent (one of the ups of being a talented actor) or different language. We were always on the run, traveling from place to place in such last minute. As I grew older I suspected that maybe my father was an escaped criminal, I had slim knowledge of who he was, almost as slim of knowledge that I had of my dead mother.

My mother, she was another secret my father kept from me, he never liked to talk about her. All I knew then, and what he told me, was that she died in a tragic boating accident when I was four, I didn’t remember her or what she looked like…It wasn’t till last week that I learned of my true name and who my parents actually were.

We were in Switzerland a few months before; I was feeling depressed and sick of always moving. It was then that my father decided we should go to New York and this time he promised me he’d enroll me in a school. I was so excited, a real school, a school filled with kids my age. I was used to being only tutored by him. He taught all that I know, even the languages he knew. Though sometimes I believed he only taught me everything to avoid telling me the truth.

The time that we were in New York was one of our most peaceful times and for a while I had a normal life. It was that year I was introduced to Mimi, an old friend of my fathers as he told me, but I believed they were actually more than that. Nonetheless, we were happy, I was enrolled in school and made friends and seemed like I was going to have a new mother.

Then the worst happened when my father picked me up from school, and saw the look on his face, the look he always gave me before we moved. And as the naïve girl I was, I was furious. He knew how I felt and tried to make it up to me by more promises. Always promises but never the truth.

“Can’t I just go to school one day more?” I pleaded.

“I don’t think it’s possible, Dove,” he said as he packed

“Please, I need to say goodbye to my friends.”

“We can’t, you know that.”

He always assumed I knew everything.

“No I don’t, you don’t tell me anything! Did you rob a bank? Is that why we’re always rich and on the run?” I demanded, getting in his way as he walked to his closet.

“Not now,” he said going around me.

“When?!”

“Get packed,” he said calmly, ignoring me.

I had enough; I wanted an explanation more than an extra day, “No,” I said slamming the closet door shut.

“I don’t have time for this, Dove.”

As the child of an actor, I can act to, I made my eyes water on purpose, and moped around the house ignoring him and not packing. And after an hour he finally “If you finish packing I’ll let you go to school tomorrow.”

I smiled, knowing I had won.

It sickens me how much of a manipulating spoiled brat I am, and it was later that I learned that this particular flair didn’t exactly come from my father.

The next day he drove me to school and this time parked in front of the library. “As soon as school’s over you meet me right here, do you understand?” he said

“Yes.” I was anxious to get to school, “Why here though, why can’t you pick me up at school?”

“Because.”

“Where are going,” I asked nonchalantly.

“Where do you want to go?”

“New Jersey,” I tested.

“Too close, how about France, you liked France.”

“Bye.” I groaned as I got out of the car. I hated France. He knew my French was poor and living there wouldn’t improve it.

“Love you,” he called out to me.

“Love you too,” I yelled as I ran.

That was the last time I saw him…if only I had known.

School ended and I said goodbye to everyone and got addresses to write to. And as my father instructed I walked to the city library. I had to be nice to my father when he came and be thankful he gave me an extra day even though I dreaded leaving again. I’m old enough to know the truth, no matter how bad it is. I’m not a child anymore! I stopped, is thi the right library? To my surprise he wasn’t there. Probably doing last minute packing, he’ll be here soon

An hour past and he wasn’t there, he was never late, never. I waited and assured myself that maybe he had to go somewhere before. It was getting dark and I was growing more nervous and scared. Something must have happened to him, he must have been caught. The only way he prepared me for this situation was an address, that’s all, an address to a place far from here. I was underage with no money, there was no way I could get there. He assumed that I would be intact with our money then, he never dreamed I would be alone in a city when it happened for he never left me alone.

What am I going to do? Daddy where are you? I hated myself, It’s all my fault! I should never had made him stay an extra day! I sat there crying on the steps, What if they kill him? No, oh God, please no! I didn’t know where to go, it was now five o’clock the sun was coming down. Maybe I could go to Jenny’s…but they’ll ask questions. I can’t go to the police, they might be looking for my father and demand more questions and put me in some children’s home

There was only place I could go, one person who could help, the one person my father forbidden me to ever see…my grandmother. What other choice do I have?

Her apartment was located at one on the poorest, dangerous and dirtiest areas in the city, it was a miracle that a little girl like me didn’t raped or killed on the way there. It was stupid of me to walk there at night. I remember going there once, I was really young, too young, but for some reason I remember the apartment. Luckily I knew the address for my father sends money there all the time. If he hates her so much, why does he send her money?

I went to the doorway and knocked in fear of what was coming.

“I’m coming, hold on, I’m coming Stu!”

The door was opened by an old woman with caked on make-up and a frilly peignoir, she was so familiar to me, I seen her before but I couldn’t remember.

“Jesus, I thought you were the landlord,” I was in awe of her and couldn’t utter a word, “Well speak up child! Who are you?”

“Um…I’m your Granddaughter—“ I stuttered.

“Dove?! I can’t believe it! You came!” She embraced me tightly, “Come in child! Come in!” She pulled me in and shut the door, “What brought your tight-ass father to allow me to see you? Who cares, you’re here! Oh how you’ve grown, last time I saw you, you were to my knees!”

I was too overwhelmed to say anything, why did my father forbid her from seeing me? There had to be a reason.

“You must be hungry,” she went to the kitchen and opened the pantry.

I took a look at her apartment; I could see one reason why my father kept me away. Her apartment was a mess, clothes were everywhere, rotten food all over the place, the bathroom mirror was smeared with make-up, the furniture was ratted, rust and grime were everywhere to be seen, the wallpaper was stained with God knows what, the whole apartment was a chaotic mess.

“Well, honey I only have olives, don’t worry though tomorrow we’ll go to the store or something” she looked at me and then took offense at my quietness and right before my eyes changed moods, “Don’t look at me like that, I’m doing the best I can, it’s the depression damn it. Your father spoiled you so much that you expect everything that you get to be as good as the Ritz or some other five-star hotel! Where the hell is your father anyway? What the hell are you doing here wandering in a place like this? Speak up, damn it! God damnit, he’s going to kill me! He’s going to charge me with kidnapping, probably put me away this time!”

Maybe she does need to be put away, I thought. Her outburst scared me, no one ever yelled at me before.

“My father didn’t pick me up from school,” I meekly said.

“And so you decided to come here?”

“Yeah,” I said afraid she was going to yell again.

“Any idea on where he could be?”

“No,” I paused, “I think they got him.”

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know, he never told me anything.”

“What do you mean he’s never told you anything?” she sneered.

My heart raced, this mad woman knows the truth, She is my mother’s mother, she has to know, and so my manipulative self got to work, “He hasn’t told me anything, nothing, all I know about him is that he was a famous actor and all I know about my mother was that she died in a boating accident, and I don’t even know what she looks like! We’re always on the run; I don’t even know his real name, or my real name. Please tell me what horrible crime has he done that makes us live like this?”

She smiled, taking out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket of her bagging sack like dress, “The crime your father committed was surviving.”

“I don’t understand.”

She laughed, lighting her cigarette with a match, “Sit down, little Dove, this is going to be awhile. I want to tell you a story, a romantic fairy tale about two lovers…”

“What does this have to do with my father?”

“Everything my little Dove,” she smiled, “Once upon a time…”

In that one night I learned the full truth of my parents and then I knew what my father was protecting me from…the infamous Cas.

“An actor with a past. My father kept me a secret to protect me,” I finally told the woman.

“From whom?” She asked.

“From his past,” I looked at her dead on.

“Who exactly is Orin Riles?” she coaxed.

“My father,” I said nobly.

New York City 1917

“You are the one, the only one with the power to save—“ Varlam, a middle-aged tutor said to his pupil.

“Save what?” the boy’s brow rose.

“Save this country,” Varlam finished, “Something your father chooses to ignore with his own selfish desire.”

He never knew or saw that side of his father for he was so sheltered…or so they thought. The Calvanovs lived in high privilege for they were royalty. Their name has been in nobility for centuries. Colin Arthur Stephen Calvanov was the youngest of the Calvanov dynasty. He was the long awaited trophy son after four daughters. All Colin’s life he’s been told how he will continue his father’s legacy, for he was his precious replica heir. But his tutor and doctor, Varlam would teach him otherwise. Varlam was an intelligent man in his fifties, who practically raised Colin. He raised him to the greatest ruler, a ruler better than his father, a ruler who would bring the country’s morale up and get its people out of their unjust poverty, for Varlam was more than the usual doctor and teacher.

Even though Colin was the son of an athlete he was far from it being very sickly with a rare sickness that Varlam, or any doctor, couldn’t identify. The family was over protective of their beloved heir and therefore Colin was confined in bed or in a wheel chair most of the time. Colin loved the outdoors, he loved to run and play and missed it so. He didn’t see the point of being in a wheel chair when he could walk just fine. His mother was superstitious and as desperate as she was to make her son well she hired a strange witch doctor rumored to have healing powers with no medical experience, Ramesbur they called him, and paid him a wad of money to cure him…oddly enough the tricks that the strange man pulled did make Colin better; for awhile that is.

High in privilege the Calvanovs were but not so in friends, they had many enemies for being what they were, well nourished royalty, so when their country developed a civil war they were forced to go in hiding. Colin’s father was a great leader, but an evil man responsible for millions of lives killed during his reign.

“Did he choose to?” Colin asked Varlam about his father’s cruel actions during a tutoring sessions.

“Yes, he did Colin. Your father is so selfishly ruthless he killed his own brother to get the thrown.”

“My uncle fell from a tree.”

“Fell? Pushed would be the better word.”

“Were you there? How do you know?”

“One doesn’t have to witness what is easily true.”

“How do you know I’m not like him then?”

“You’re nothing like him.”

Varlam was right, Colin was nothing like his father, he didn’t have the cold-blooded desire to rule that his father had. The only likeness he had to his father was looks. Colin hated his reflection just as the people of his country did. Because of his face people would never see him, they’d see his father the murderer. Colin knew if he ever ruled they’d assassinate him before he could ever prove himself good. Colin’s father loved him but only as another achievement. Colin never knew his father; he only knew what was said of him, good and bad. He both had to be him and against him. His sisters were lucky; all they were required to be were wives and duchesses, they didn’t have the weight of a country to look forward to and expectations to live up to.

After weeks on an army ship the Calvanovs’ finally arrive in America. The family descended from the ship, Colin getting rolled down in a wheelchair. They met up with an ambassador named Ormond Stratton at the dock.

“How was your trip?” Ormond asked.

“Fine, is everything ready,” His father asked.

“Oh yes, your family will be safe here, you’re in America now,” he winks at Colin.

“You know the family.”

“Of course I do. Who are they, we had a agreement, just the family.”

“They are family, this is my leading general Nicolas and my son’s doctor and tutor Varlam,” His father added sternly.

“What are you doing here if you’re a general, shouldn’t they be fighting?”

“I’m retired and very much in danger.”

“Very well then, come.”

They were placed in a grand hotel at the top floor and give three suites. Colin was in awe of the city and loved the view of the life he wished to live.

“You checked in by the last name Van Calloway, you think of the rest to you new aliases. You have my number to call if they’re anything wrong; the guards are in the rooms nearby.”

Colin shared a suite with his four sisters. He was closest to Devonny who was three years older. When his mother was pregnant with her she was sure Devonny was going to be a boy after she was born, Colin’s mother cried for days in defeat. Colin felt responsible for his sister’s pain of being unwanted. He tried his best to make her happy, for she was always depressed. Even though she was a girl, she was the son his father wished for. She was a tomboy, athletic and competitive. Her goal was to be the best in everything. She loved to flirt and Colin knew of her affairs with some soldiers of his father’s. And soon everyone would know because she was pregnant and starting to show.

“Are you looking at my stomach again Orin?” She teased as she was sitting on the chair crocheting. Only his sisters called him Orin, it was a special nickname, a secret one. It started when they wanted to call him Olin for short and somehow Devonny mispronounced it as Orin. But nonetheless Colin preferred their nickname to his mother’s, which was Olie.

“It’ll show soon,” he said in concern.

“You promised not to tell.” She was oddly calm and wasn’t taking her pregnancy seriously as it was.

“I know but you can’t keep this a secret for long.”

“Yes I can,” she smiled, “but thank you for caring.” She stopped for a second to look at Colin, “God you’re so pale.”

Colin was feeling weaker as the days passed, “I know.”

“Too bad it’s winter, you need sun and warmth.”

“If you have a boy, he’d be prince right?”

“I guess he would.”

“You think he could take my place?”

She stopped and again looked at Colin, “Whatever you’re thinking on doing don’t. You’re not going to die. For all you know you might out live us all. And besides, no one could take your place.”

“I wish someone could.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“I am, if it came true I’d be free.”

“You’re better than free, you’re powerful,” she became serious, “Only the powerful are free, because they can do anything.”

“Yes, but with a price,” Colin said back.

“But the free have a more damaging price to pay for it.”

“That they chose to pay themselves; the powerful don’t pay their price, others do devastatingly.”

“Did Varlam teach you this? That damn revolutionary brainwashed you.”

“No!”

“Father is not merciless,” she defended.

“How can you defend him? You know how many died because of him?!”

“He’s your father whether you like it or not.”

“It doesn’t mean his actions are right.”

Then suddenly the door opened and Colin’s sister, Moira appeared.

“Father want us to meet him in his suite.”

They all walked down the hall their father’s suite that he shared with no one. In the room his father was seated with his mother, with General Nicolas and Ormond Stratton standing.

“Come in children, we need to talk,” His said as he waved for them to come in, he noticed Colin looking dismal, “Is there something wrong Colin?”

“No, nothing’s wrong father,” Colin replied back.

“Well why the long face then?” Ormond joked as he tousled his hair. Colin didn’t laugh nor smile and just gave him a blank look.

“Come sit with me Olie, I don’t want you on your feet too much,” His mother crooned and gestured

“I’m fine mother,” Colin said firmly for she embarrassed him.

“What is it that you want to speak to us about father?” Devonny asked quickly saving Colin from more of the awkward attention they were bestowing on him.

“I’m afraid to inform you all there’s been signs of rebels knowing our station here,” Colin’s sisters gasped, “don’t you fret now, everything’s going to all right, but we do have to take precautions.”

“Precautions such as?” Tiana the eldest asked.

“You might not like one of them but we have to do it, to be sure if—something happens we’ll know,” his father paused.

“Know what?”

“Know for sure your identity.”

Colin knew where this was going, he just knew what they were planning, “You’re going to brand us?” he shout out.

“Mark, Colin, that’s what.”

“Brand us, god what are we cattle?”

“No Colin, you’re the heir, my child—”

“Like there’s a difference,” Colin muttered

“Olie!” his mother now gasped “How dare you say that?”

“I don’t want be your son if it means that I have to be identified by a permanent mark and not by who I am.”

“This is for your protection Colin.”

“No this is for your protection. The only reason I was made was to carry on your legacy and with me dead you’d cease, that is until you get yourself another heir,” Colin looked at his father, “That is all I am, just a valuable possession, a heir.” Colin ran out of the room.

“Olie for god sakes don’t run!” his mother wailed.

“That went well,” Ormond smiled sheepishly, “I’ll go get him, he can’t go far.”

“Yes, we’ll start with the girls then,” General Nicolas added.

Colin’s father was silent and hunched in his chair knowing what Colin said was right, “Just keep in mind Ormond that our little heir has tried other attempts in the past,” he finally said

“Attempts Sir?”

“Death attempts,” Nicolas whispered in Ormond’s ear, “our little heir is quite dramatic.”

“I see,” Ormond replied, I would be too if I was forced to live a life that wasn’t my own, he reflected as he walked out of the suite. He tried to think of escape ways that hotel would provide a young boy with. Then he froze “Death attempts…” he realized, The roof! He ran to the elevator and pressed the button to the top floor. The elevator seemed to move slowly and it stop and a crowed was heading in, Ormond gave up and got out of the elevator and headed for the stairs. He ran up not stopping for a breath. Finally he reached the top and opened the small door to the roof, “Don’t jump Colin!” he yelled running and grabbing Colin who standing near the edge.

“Get off me! I wasn’t going to jump!” Colin said struggling

“Sorry, they gave me an impression that you would,” Ormond said letting go and giving Colin space.

“Did they? Why would I do that? There’s no point in killing myself when I’m going to die soon.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m dying from an unknown illness, I’m on the hit-list of millions, and if I survive both and rule I’ll get beheaded in a revolution. I have no future, I’m a heir of the a hated ruthless tyrant; the beggar street-kids have a better fate than mine!” he scoffed.

“But you’re royalty—“

“Exactly, royalty, and I have power and therefore my life is better,” he sarcastically finished for him.

“Something like that.”

“But the power I have is over millions, who will suffer from every mistake I make and I will have to live with the guilt over a warm fire while they’re freezing to death,” Colin scathed.

“You can be different, you can be everything a ruler has never been—fair. You’re right, every action you make would have a significant effect on people, don’t think of the mistakes you’d make, but all the greatness you could bring if you make the right actions.”

“I couldn’t because they will never give chance to prove myself after killing me for having his face and now his mark.”

“Then give yourself a chance.”

“How?”

“You’ll eventually find a way, I promise, your life is not yet written out as you presume,” he crouches and looks Colin in the eyes, “Take charge of your life before they do,” Ormond then smiles, “After all, you don’t want to be someone’s puppet now do you?”

“No,” Colin replied, he started thinking to himself.

It was New Years Eve of 1917; the Calvanovs were escourted to the bottom floor to take a family photograph so they could prove that they were alive and well. Colin had a sick feeling that something wasn’t right. Colin wasn’t the kind to easily trust, and he suspected that his father’s men and Varlam could have some plan of their own. They led them outside in the dripping cold snow and into the pool house near the empty marble ditch. Colin should had taken this as a warning sign brought to take a simple photograph in the pool house and not the ballroom or suite. But his father gullibly went along with this with the intention that he and his family were brought to this remote location because after they were going be secretly reunited with his cousin, who also was a wanted man, and together they would be shipped to California. The hours before they spent on packing and getting ready, while Colin looked at this as his chance.

Colin had a plan. That night he would run away. He had been planning it for days ever since he heard the news of being out somewhere else. He managed to escape a few times and steel luggage, street clothes that the kind the beggar kids wore, in secret he ratted and poked holes in the stolen clothes to give that certain effect and put some of his mother’s jewelry in his pocket. He would wear the clothes under his usual fine wool clothes and in the confusion and distraction of leaving the hotel there he would quietly escape unnoticed into the city streets and step out of his over clothes, hide them, and walk away free.

Colin’s heart was beating fast as his mother complained about not having a chair to sit in to the men who greeted them. The time was coming soon and he was in fear and anticipation and what was going to occur in the next hour; this was his one shot, his only chance, he could risk it.

“Orin, how does my hair look? Am decent enough for a picture?” Devonny jokingly whispered in his ear.

“If I were you I’d cover that bump up.”

She lightly slugged him in annoyance. His mother still didn’t know, everybody just assume she was gaining weight from overeating.

“Mother, is Tania still engaged to cousin Reginald?” Ora, asked.

“I hope, our beautiful Tania is twenty-three and sure needs to get married soon,” his father bluntly commented.

“Just face it Ora, we’re all going to be spinsters,” Moira sadly murmered.

“Now that’s enough of this discussion, everything will be alright.”

Colin looked to Devonny the whole time, knowingly, urging her to tell them.

“Well I don’t know about all of you, but I’d be happy being a spinster with no one to please but myself,” She said instead.

Colin watched his other sisters protested against her blunt comment. He said goodbye to them in his mind trying to savior his last moment with them. This was his price of his freedom, leaving his sisters forever. He didn’t want to, but he had to. He couldn’t live like this any longer, if he truly was dying or was going to be killed, he should try with all his might to live out the rest of his life outside as his own person than inside living as a heir.

The man returned with three chairs, his mother and father sat down and one chair was left. It was for Colin. He sat down hating how his parents showed more affection and attention towards him than his sisters; he was convinced it had more to do with him being a boy than him being frail. He was close to getting up and offering it to pregnant Devonny, but he didn’t.

0o0o0o0

Ten men were outside the pool house as Varlam and General Nicolas approached them.

“Remember, whatever you do, don’t shoot the boy,” General Nicolas ordered.

“Not one bullet is to hit him and if one does all of you will be executed on the spot,” Varlam added passing out the guns to the men.

“I don’t think this is necessary,” Ormond said from behind, pulling the Varlam aside.

“With him alive there will never be peace.”

“I know, but do you honestly have to kill his wife and daughters as well?”

“Colin has to the last heir for our plan to work.”

“Why can’t you just leave them to me, kill Stanimir, but let me handle the other family members, I could get them to disappear, change their names and live off somewhere in the deserted west, given enough money and resources to them, they wouldn’t a threat,“ Ormond reasoned with Varlam.

“That’s not good enough.”

“And this is not right, they’re innocent despite having him as a father. They didn’t choose this and should be spared.”

General Nicolas put a gun at his head, “You have no say in this. You’ve done your job and you have no use to us anymore. So you either go with our plan or not and get killed.”

“May god have mercy on your souls for doing this,” he muttered giving up.

“To save lives we have to kill, that’s how peace is made.” Varlam put the gun down.

“No, that’s how a war is started.” Ormond walked away to the end of the pool house.

0o0o0o0

A man walked in and smiled at the family, “The cameraman is getting his camera ready and will be in shortly.” He walked out.

“Should we smile father?” Moira asked.

“Perhaps,” He replied.

“What to we have to smile about?” Colin scoffed.

“Good health,” Devonny joked to him back squeezing his hand gently.

“I love you Dev,” Colin suddenly said, his eyes gleaming.

“What’s that’s about? You say that as if this is our last moment.”

Before he could answer a swarm of men appeared in the room.

“What this about?” His father stood up.

Suddenly standing in a row Colin saw the guns. He didn’t have time to comprehend as he cracking and saw his father tumble down. He shut his eyes, frozen in shock as he heard more shooting, His heard one of his sisters scream and his eyes bolted as he was brought into reality.

He screamed and shouted, “Stop it!” It was the only thing he could do. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move. He was shaking, curling up, shielding himself and covering his ears praying for it to be a dream.

There was silence. He slowly opened his eyes. The men were gone and a cloud of gun smoke was in the air. He looked below, gasping in horror covering his mouth to stop from screaming. There his family lied dead in a puddle of blood, their bodies barely recognizable being distorted by the many bullets punctures.

He looked away and was shivering. Not one built hit him. Not a single drop of his blood stained his clothes. He was untouched.

He heard something move and he jumped. He looked down again. Devonny’s eyes were moving. Devonny was alive! He wasn’t the only one.

“Dev, can you hear me?” He whispered. She was shot in the shoulder and upper chest many times but miraculously not in the stomach. “We have to get out of here.”

“Orin,” she said in a quiet raspy voice.

“You’re going to be all right.”

“I feel light headed,” she was growing faint.

“Stay with me Dev,” he sobbed not wanting to lose her too after getting her back again.

“You’re right, I should had told them sooner,” she said, her voice fading, still making remarks in her state.

“Can you get up? They’re going to come back and finish us off, if we leave now we could find a doctor. I have some of mother’s jewelry, we could buy train tickets and run away somewhere and forget.”

Surprisingly Devonny was laughing, “You planned on running away too?” she opened her blouse to reveal that she was wearing two of their mothers massive diamond layered necklaces, “I have more in my bodice.” She clumsily buttoned it back up.

He weakly laughed, but more cried in relief, seeing that it was the diamonds that saved her life and that she wasn’t in as serious condition as he thought. She had a chance of living.

He heard footsteps and turned to see Varlam and General Nicolas with a few other men.

“You, take him away back to the suite and sedate him, the rest, go help in cleaning up this mess.” General Nicolas ordered.

One of the men went to Colin and grabbed him, “Let me go!” Colin yelled as he picked him up and carried him away. He looked to Devonny now playing dead, trying to break free, “No! Let go!” The man carried him past Varlam, Colin looked him in the eyes with hatred, “You’re no hero; you’re just as much as a tyrant as he was!” He said to Varlam.

He struggled as the burly man carried him, then waiting for them was Ormond.

“I can take it from here son,” He said to the man.

“I’m on strict order to—“

“I know, but I’m one of the head of this operation.”

“I don’t know, I—“

“Just leave him here, and go back, all will be well, I handle the rest and here,” He out a wad of cash in his pocket, “this is for your help.”

He nodded greatfully and put Colin down, “Careful, he might run,” he whispered.

“Thanks for the tip.”

Ormond clutched Colin’s shoulders tightly and waited till the man disappeared in the darkness.

Lightly and unexpectedly he gently let go of him and knelted down and whispered, “It’s too late to save them, but it’s not too late to save yourself,” Colin looks at him confused and suspecting it’s another trap, Ormond shoves him gently, “Run! Hide yourself!”

Colin reluctantly runs out the front entrance and escapes through the maze of alleyways.

London 1939

Orin woke up groggy and drugged with his wrists chained to a rusted metal bed. He had no idea where he was but he knew why he was here. The small dark cellar was suddenly lighted by a small light bulb hanging by a string. Orin looked up to see Tony Casoni.

“Hey kid,” he said to Orin, “Where you’ve been these past years?” he smiled.

“Why do you care?” Orin muttered, he was somewhat relieved for he was expecting someone else…

“You’re like a son to me.”

“Don’t you mean an investment?” Orin quipped the truth.

“That too.”

“No use getting me Casoni, I don’t know where it is.”

“You’re the last heir, the last one in the family. Only the family knows where it’s hidden.”

“I’m not part of the family.”

“You have the marking. Everyone in the dynasty has the marking on their upper back so if there was ever an assassination they would be able to correctly detect claims.”

“That’s a legend.”

“Take off your shirt and say that…Colin.”

Orin looks at him, the man he used to look up too, the one person he trusted, “If I did know, what makes you so sure that I’ll tell you?”

“You’ll tell, one way or another,” Casoni said as more men came into the room. No matter what he wouldn’t tell, Orin would never tell. For the sake of his dead family he wouldn’t tell…for the sake of Dove.

New York City 1917

Later that night at the Police station in the back office, Colin was silent, too traumatized to speak. He stole food at a deli and didn’t realize the police station was near, which brought him here. The station was nearly empty due to the hotel bombing.

“Tell us boy! What’s your name?” The cop yelled in frustration.

“He’s not going to talk.”

Colin would not tell for they would come after him the minute they found out his location. The truth would be suicide and in that case Colin decided he would have to lie to survive.

“Orin, my name is Orin,” He said in his fake American accent.

That was the moment where Colin Arthur James Calvanov died and Orin the actor was born. Orin would go on forever playing a part, for as long as he acted he was safe.

“Orin what made you think you could steel and get away with it?”

“I was hungry and had no money, I’m dearly sorry for stealing, may I please go?” Orin asked.

Everybody laughed at Orin’s naive ness.

“Quite a smart aleck we have here.”

To Orin’s surprise he was charge with theft and had to owe more than an apology. He was placed in the children’s reformatory.

You’ll be placed here until you serve your term and once you have you’ll be transferred to the orphanage next door He remembered the judge’s order

A year, one year for something as minor as stealing…but he was reminded of his country, if this was his country he would have been shot on the spot.

He didn’t care. If this were his fate so be it, at least he’d be off the streets and out of view. He had nothing now, no family, no name. He had nothing but himself. He had to live no matter how much he wanted to die. He didn’t want revenge. Vengeance would not bring his family back. All he wanted now was to live a life invisible and safe with no enemies.

He sat in the police car, looking out the window, saying goodbye to life, as he knew it. The deeper in the city they drove the darker and dirtier it got. Orin has never in his life has ever known of this different world. Merchants selling junk, while women were selling their bodies, men fighting and drinking, children begging for food, all froze as the car drove by them.

The car suddenly stopped nearly crashing into a merchants cart crossing the street

“Damn peddlers,” The driver cursed.

Orin’s eyes shifted to a little girl barely five with blond ringlets in a tattered dress, playing in the alleyway. It was her eyes that caught Orin, deep green eyes, that lured him by looking straight in his eyes in a vulnerable yet manipulative manner. The little girl smiled coyly and went on playing. Something about her irritated him. Something in the way she looked at him, the way she smiled, as if she had power over him. She appeared to be delicate and helpless, but the more Orin looked into her eyes he saw what she really was…

The car drove on and the girl was out of his sight.

St. Mary’s Convent

New York City 1939

Dove walked upstairs with a tray of food. She went to the door at the top and quietly knocked, “Sister Margaret wanted me to bring up your dinner since you weren’t there.”

The door opened, “I’m not hungry, but I thank you for bringing it up,” she said sounding annoyed and in a hurry.

“You can’t skip dinner.”

“Yes I can. So please bring it down and give it to someone who is hungry.”

“Sorry, I was just doing as I was told.”

“Do you always do as your told?”

“No, but here I have no choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“Yes I do but not a good one, it’s do as I’m told and stay here or not and be out in the streets.”

“Where did you get that necklace?”

“What?”

“The thing around your neck.”

“These pearls?”

“Yes.”

“They were my mother’s, they’re not a heirloom or anything but they’re special to me. When my father let me have them he told me that these pearls represented everything my mother was.”

“Which was?”

“Beautiful, I guess, he never told me exactly how they represented her.”

That bastard, even when he’d gone he mocks me, the woman thought to herself He may of known my past, discovered my weaknesses, witnessed my sins, enough for him to assume; but it doesn’t mean his assumptions are right The women then looked at the girl, How on Earth did she get here?

“What’s your name?” the girl asked.

“Andra.”

“Why are you here? You’re obviously not a nun.”

“Obviously? What makes you think that?”

“Because I caught you smoking outside, and you’re language isn’t quite holy. So why are you here?”

“I’m here for sanctuary.”

“From what?”

“You’re father isn’t the only one with a past.”

“Are you a reformed criminal or something?

“I’m far from a criminal, very far,” Andra laughs to herself.

“What’s so funny?”

“What kind of name is Dove?”

“It’s a nickname, my real name is Vera Catherine. Vera, after my grandmother and Catherine,” Dove pauses and looks down, “after my dead mother.”

“Dead mother?”

“She died in a boating accident.”

“Tell me, your mother wouldn’t happen to be the famous heiress-turned-actress, Catherine Ann Stratton?”

“What if she was?”

“Then your mother’s death wasn’t an accident.”

“What are you saying, that she was murdered?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, after all you’re grandfather, Ormond Stratton did get in trouble with the mob many times in the past and did you know that the actor Orin Riles was in fact involved with the mob, he was even once engaged to Mimi Casoni, daughter of mob boss Tony Casoni. So was your father on the boat when this happened?”

“I see what you’re saying. My father is not a murderer! My father loved my mother, he didn’t kill her! He would never have killed her! Never!”

He would, if driven enough, like me, he would, Andra smiled to herself, She couldn’t have possibly had known, being sheltered in a life of lies

“So why else has the actor Orin Riles been hiding all these years,” Andra paused looking at her, “after your mother’s death?” She had her. The girl looked at her blankly not knowing how to back her precious father up.

“I hate you,” Dove muttered.

“You can’t hate someone you don’t even know.”

“Yes you can, you proved that,” She said before she stormed out.

New York City 1921

Catherine was looking through her mother’s old magazines. Her mother was out again, she was always out at night, and when she wasn’t working her shift, she was either drunk or sleeping. Catherine had to fend for herself; a little girl is never safe especially when her mother was a whore. She was always on her own, for all her eight years she was never cared for, never loved. She couldn’t care less; she didn’t need anyone anyways. She’d rather be independent than dependant. Dependant people are the weak ones, always needing, always begging, always relying, always obeying. She was disgusted by them and vowed never to become one of them…never become her mother.

Her mother hated her since birth. She had her at a late age of thirty-eight. She tried to kill her in her seventh month of pregnancy but failed. She blamed Catherine for everything wrong in her life. Before Catherine she was an immigrant stage actress and dancer from Ireland. Catherine never listened to her ranting, she knew she didn’t ruin her mother’s life, it was her reliance that ruined her life, not an innocent baby. She relied on everything from men to booze; she would rely on anything that promised escape. Always escape, that what all the cowards want, Catherine pondered, when will they learn the only way to escape to face the problem and solve it

Catherine never knew who her father was. She desperately tried to get her mother to tell her, but all that she would tell her was lies; first he was an actor, then he was a banker, then a salesman, the lies went on. Even if she told her, Catherine still had no hope, the man would probably would refuse her and go back to his other family, leaving her cold. Who’s needs a father anyways, what Catherine needed a way out of this hell. For Catherine had plans of her own, she was going be everything her mother wasn’t.

Catherine continued to look through the magazine, when her mother walked in drunk as usual, At least she doesn’t have a man this time, Catherine sighed in relief

“We have no food and Stu wants the rent,” Catherine reminded for the fifth time. It gotten so bad now Catherine had to sneak out of the apartment to avoid Stu and go beg for food. Although she hated begging, she was quite good at it, she would cry and give as person that look, that look that always hooked them. One time it worked so well, a man gave her five dollars; sometimes she’d even get jewelry. She got more money from begging than her mother did from selling her body. She would kill Catherine if she ever knew, not out of punishment but out of pure jealousy.

“What are looking at there?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re looking at that boy again.”

Catherine too, had an addiction, and that was dreaming. Her addiction didn’t give her escape, but drive. At night when her mother was away, she would look at her mother’s old magazines, magazine’s with pictures of the rich and royalty, and cut out pictures of what she yearned for and pasted them on the wall by where she slept. They fascinated her, their clothes, their jewelry, their mansions, their carefree lifestyle…their power. She hated them: hated their blue blood, hated their old money, hated their Darwin beliefs, hated their businesses that worked young children, hated their men who used and abused the women of the poor…their men that shunned their bastard children. She wanted to become them, not to be them, but destroy them all. Her addiction was not harmful to herself; it was harmful to the ones she sought out. Dreaming for her wasn’t wishful thinking, but plotting. That night she was looking at her future husband, the one she planned to marry, she recognized him from somewhere. His blond hair and light angelic eyes she has seen before.

“I asked you a question damn it!”

Catherine ignored her mother in her drunken presence. Her mother got her attention by ripping the magazine out her hands

“Give it back!”

“I was right, you were looking at that boy, what is it about this boy huh? Is it his looks? It is isn’t it? Well?”

“He’s the one I’m going to marry after I become a famous actress” Catherine loved to tell her mother of her plots, loved to hear her mother laugh and make fun of her telling her that it’ll never happen. Her mother’s taunts is what drove her the most, she looked forward to the day where she proved her mother wrong; the day she proved she was nothing like mother. She lived by the quote, “The greatest pleasure in life is doing what other’s say you cannot do.”

“You a famous actress? You don’t have what it takes.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do know that nobody accepts the bastard child of a whore.”

“They’ll accept me, I’ll make them see past that. They’ll take me.”

“Take you for what? The only thing they’ll take you for is a whore.”

“I’ll kill them before they do that.”

“Face it darling, you’re your mother’s daughter, only good for one thing.”

“I’m not you, I’ll never be as whore, never! I’d rather die than sell myself!”

“Little girls like you shouldn’t have so much pride and ambition, it’ll be a danger in the future.”

“Danger for them.”

“You want to marry that boy, huh, well here’s news for you, he’s dead.”

“No he’s not!”

“Yes he is, it says right there in the magazine, can’t ya read?”

Catherine couldn’t read, schooling was a luxury for the rich and middle class.

“That’s life for you, your little prince charming is dead, family was assassinated years ago. So sorry to ruin your life plans.”

Catherine wouldn’t cry, not for some boy she never met, she wouldn’t give her mother the satisfaction.

“Are you going to pay Stu?” She changed the subject.

“Why do you care?”

“Because I live here.”

“Which you should be thanking me for instead of back talking me.”

“I was ignoring you, there’s a difference.”

“What’s that on your neck,” Her mother saw the pearl necklace around her neck, “Where did you get that?”

Catherine was so angry with her she couldn’t help but to boast, “ Some man gave it to me.”

“Gave it to you?! For what?!”

“For being pretty, it’s real too,” That was a lie, it was glass, she sold any jewelry that was real, but her mother was too blind to see that. It wasn’t enough, she had to hurt her more, “Truthfully, I think he gave it to me because he felt sorry for me. He asked what a sweet little girl like me was doing alone on the streets, and I was too ashamed to tell him about you, so I told him you were dead.”

“You little—“

“What else did you want me to tell him, the truth, that you’re such a good mother that you abandon your own daughter for lowlife men?”

“You’re no better. No matter what you say, no matter what you do, no matter who you become, you’ll still be the same. You’ll still be my Casandra.”

“Don’t ever call me that! My name is Catherine, after Catherine the Great! I’m going to live up to that name and not yours.”

“Why, you’re too good for it?”

“Far.”

“Then leave then, if you’re too good for me.”

“Leave?”

“That’s right, leave. Go find some other mother that’s good enough for you.”

“I will, I’ll go to the orphanage and get myself a new family, better yet why don’t you tell who my father is, I could live with him.”

“He won’t take you.”

“Maybe he will.”

“I’ll never tell you, you’ll forever be a bastard.”

“So be it then, I’ll manage without father,” Catherine walked to the door.

“You won’t make it, they’ll get you somehow. You’ll be back before you know it, pregnant and alone!”

“That’s right mother, I’ll be back, when I’m rich and powerful and we’ll see then how different we are!” Catherine stormed out and ran down the flights of rickety stairs and into the night. Her life was starting now, now that she was out of the rut holding her back. She wasn’t afraid; she wasn’t afraid of anything.

…And thus Catherine was born

St. Mary’s Convent

New York City 1939

Andra was pacing in her room of eight years. Eight years she’s been hiding, ever since…she didn’t want to think about it even though thoughts were racing in her head now that Orin’s little princess is here. She wasn’t sure at first, but then when she started telling the stories…How much does she know? That statement she made to her, I proved what? I knew the ones that I hated; I knew them too well. Who is she to judge me? Andra knew who Dove was and her stance on that statement, but whether or not she’s going to accept it was the bigger question.

She thinks her mother’s dead, how could he tell her that she was dead? She knew the truth, it didn’t surprise her why he didn’t. She talks of her mother as if she was Joan of Arc, which she was in some perspective, but her idolism of her is there after being raised by Orin who hated everything she was and viewed her accomplishments as a crime. Orin thinks of her as Marie Antoinette for Christ sakes! She tells everyone there of their story, of our story, like some fairytale. Perhaps it is in some light, a very odd one to say the least, where the princess tries to kill the prince and steal the throne; I don’t think that one will go in Grimm’s Fairytales. Little does that little brat know that her dead mother is none other than me, the one she claimed she hated.

I knew I shouldn’t have teased her and tested her limits, but damn it, she reminds me so much of him. Oh god, the way she looks at me! The same way he did with that knowing glare as if he knew everything about me enough to mock me…and even hurt me. I’ve been avoiding her. I can’t even look at her, she reminds me of too much.

But the question of the matter is, why is she here? Orin would never desert her, he’d have to die before—Oh no, no it can’t be… Orin past mistakes finally caught up with him. Why did Orin have to be so naïve to sign his life and loyalty to the mob at seventeen? Did he actually think they’d help him? The mob only helps themselves never anybody else. And of course they opened their arms to Orin, somehow they knew his real worth, not just in skills, but also in money.

At least the good news is they won’t kill him right away unless that sap opens his mouth and knowing him he won’t; one of the only things we have in common is our stubbornness. People don’t seem understand that when they study our relationship. They assume that we’re enemies by fate, another Romeo & Juliet. What they fail to comprehend, is that we’re not enemies by fate, we’re enemies by our own stubborn will. The only ones against us are ourselves. Perhaps if we decided not to be so stubborn we’d be together and at peace…but that would have to require one of us giving up which neither him nor I would do. Never.

New York City 1921

After many escape attempts and beatings in the fours years in the reformatory, Orin finally was moved to the orphanage. He was a troublemaker, so much that he was escorted by guards who had a tight grip on his arms afraid of him running off. He wasn’t sent to the orphanage for obedience, he was sent there out of fear and just plain annoyance. By then Orin’s rich boy ignorance was nearly gone, but just nearly.

“So this is him, I was expecting some burly chap not a pretty boy,” The lady at the door smirked.

“Looks can be deceiving miss.”

“So I see, he must be a sweet talker.”

“More of an escape artist in the making” the guard replied, “He’s quite talented.”

“I’m not talented I’m educated, there’s a difference,” Orin muttered. The guard next to him hit him hard in the stomach. Orin crouched in pain gasping.

“He’s very defiant but behaves once he knows who has the upper hand.”

…In other words never obedient

“Very well, I have a farmer from Alabama coming out in a few months looking for some older boys to adopt.”

…In others words looking for some free labor

“So I heard, hard manual labor is just the cure for troublemakers.”

Orin was hiding in another escape attempt. He would rather die than become some man’s slave. It was dumb to escape, they always find him and make his life even more of a hell than it already was. He had a year till he was at a legal age to be free and with the slave keeper coming in less than three months he had no chance.

Orin was walking alone done a crowded market square. They wouldn’t find him in the bustle of people. Orin was used to being on his own. He never really had any friends, he had admirers-younger kids who thought his antics were heroic, but no one who was there for him. His missed that support, that support he got from his big family, who he refused to remember. Remembering them and the previous events would only lead Orin to feel sadness and regret to near suicide. But he could never forget, and along with sorrow came fear. He feared that they’ll find out his existence and that somehow they’ll find him. That constant fear ruled his life, he knew they were still out there; they’ll never go away. Orin always felt watched, always felt a presence lurking about. The feeling never went away even after. What Orin really wanted, is a place, a safe place where he could live in peace. Orin would forever go searching for that fictional place, for just the promise of it made him live on.

Then suddenly Orin jumped at the sight of blue, he quickly went into a bakery at the mistaken sight of a cop. Fear always leads a person into the wrong path as Orin would find out the hard way when his fear led him to Cas.

Just as Orin was walking away from the window and in the bakery he over heard a conversation in French by two men.

“He’s going to try to get Pierre, he’s been looking for him for days.”

“Thankfully he was able to get the train to Chicago.”

“He’ll find him anyways, with the help of Ormond-”

“Ormond’s just a ambassador.”

Ormond, they can’t be talking about Ormond Stratton, Orin gasped. Ormond Stratton the ambassador who helped get his family across seas in secret and failed to protect them in New York. Orin listened further.

“Even if Ormond can’t help, Tony still has men stationed everywhere, they’ll find him.”

“It’s the mafia not God.”

“What’s the difference? They both control everything.”

Suddenly a car drove in nearly going through the window, Orin jumped and slowly backed away unnoticed. Three men appeared at the entrance, one holding a machine gun. They were nicely dressed in stripped suits so neatly pressed. They walked in slowly knowing their presence caused the two Frenchmen to flinch.

“Where is he!” The one in the middle yelled.

The two men didn’t answer.

“If you don’t answer, there’ll be serious consequences,” the other man said raising the gun.

“He left Saturday,” One of the men stuttered now in English.

“Where to? Your little friend crossed us and we just want to talk a little sense into him.”

“We’ll never tell!”

“What’s that?”

“Shoot us then, we’re old anyways.”

“I’m not going to let you go that easily.”

“I’d rather die than tell you where my son is.”

Just as the man was aiming his gun, Orin then shouted

“Wait! Don’t shoot! I know where he is!”

The three men turned and look at him, they didn’t see him there.

“You know where he is?”

“He’s lying.”

“I do know, I walked in on them, they were saying,” Orin repeated the conversation they way he heard it.

“What?” the man with the gun asked a little surprised an American street kid could speak French much less repeat it.

“You know French?”

“Yes, I’m also fluent in Italian, Russian, Portuguese, German, and--”

“Enough kid” The man with the gun said.

“Shut up Lou!” The man I the middle spapped, he walked forward and asked in Italian where the man was located and added that he’d kill him if he were wrong.

“Chicago,” Orin answered, “He took the train to Chicago,” he finished in Italian.

“Holy shit,” the man with the gun mumbled under his breath, “Did he just—“

“Yes.” The man smiled.

“How does a kid like that know that many languages?” the other man, behind, asked.

“Yes, how does someone know that many languages? Well I guess now that I have my lead I don’t need your help Jean, I’ll say hello to Pierre for you.” He turned to Orin, “So kid, what your name?”

“Orin.”

“What an usual name. Remember Orin, we have deal, if Pierre isn’t where you said I’ll have to kill you, and if he is then you’ll be rewarded for saving me time looking. Meet me at a restaurant called Lou’s two days from now to meet your fate. If you don’t show up then I’ll kill you right or wrong.” He paused, “My name’s Tony by the way, Tony Casoni.”

England 1939

“Orin, Orin, Orin,” Tony clicked his tongue. “What are we going to do with you? It’s been a long night and still no answer”

A long night indeed of endless torture, Orin’s hair was dripping wet from the last hour of being harshly dunked in a tub of water for several breathless moments at a time.

“You’re still very stubborn I see, but even the stubborn can’t keep secrets for long,” Tony said as he took out a small glass tube of serum, “especially when they’re not on guard.”

If that were true, his greatest nemesis would know his secret past, years before…

New York City 1921

Orin was walking down a deserted alley thinking about what just happened moments ago. He was starting to doubt himself, he was sure they said Chicago. He stopped walking, he heard something, a scream-he heard it again, a child’s scream. He ran down the alley trying to follow the sound. He then saw three teen boys circling around a little girl.

“You think it’s funny?” One of the boys spit at her. The girl looked at the boys with fearless and taunting smirk, an odd look for a helpless little girl to have.

“We’ll show you,” the other boy added.

“Go ahead,” she said coolly as if she was testing them.

“You little bitch,” the boy said raising his fit.

Orin then rushed behind the boy and caught his fist in the air and twist it behind the boy’s back.

“Who are you to fight girls?” Orin asked.

“Who are you to intrude?” The other boy lounged at Orin turned and pushed the boy he had a hold of at him. Another boy came at him and Orin punched him. One good thing about being confined for Orin is that it taught him to fight. The boys backed away from Orin after a few punches.

“She ain’t worth it, let’s go!” one backed away.

“Yeah you aren’t nothing but a—“The boy was about to call her something offensive only to her.

“Go!” The girl snapped

The boys ran off.

“You sure showed them,” she sarcastically said about to get up off the ground.

“Here let me help you up,” Orin offered his hand.

“I can get up myself,” she gets up dusting off her beige dress.

“So do you like picking fights with boys twice your size?”

“Yes, actually I do.”

“Why? They can easily hurt little girls like you.”

“No one can hurt me.”

Later they would be one person who could ever hurt her, the one person who was a great threat to her.

“Thanks for ruining my plans,” she sighed.

“What plans?”

“I was suppose to get into a fight with those boys, the cops stationed over there would hear me scream, save me, take me to the orphanage, and arrest the boys. And now thanks to you, that’s not going to happen.”

“What makes you think the cops will arrest the boys and not you?”

“Little girls like me never get blamed, we’re always made out to be the victim whether we are or aren’t.”

“Is that so?”

“They’re too ignorant to suspect otherwise.”

So you think, Orin thought to himself. In some cases it’s not ignorance that makes them think otherwise, it’s love. “So why do you want to go to the orphanage so bad?”

“Because I need a family, why else?” She didn’t need the family she needed but the ticket they provide.

“Then why don’t you just go there instead of scheming up some plot to get you there?”

“Because they won’t take me.”

“Why not?”

She looked down, “Because I already have a family,” she looked at Orin with her eyes watering “I lived with my aunt after my mother died a year after I was born. My aunt hates me and treats me bad just because of her jealousy over my mother. My mother was a famous dancer who fell in love with an English duke. They married but my father had his business in England and had to go back. Then my mother became pregnant with me and died after she gave birth and so my aunt took me and never told my father about me—“

“Wait you said you mother died after giving birth,” he interrupted skeptically not buying her pitiful story.

“Yes.”

“But you said before that that she died a year after.” he pointed knowing at that moment she was a liar.

“Whatever, go on.”

“Well my evil aunt hates me and tries to get revenge by working and starving me, and every time I escape to the orphanage she tells them that she’s my mother and takes me out, and so they won’t take me because of her. And if they see me in danger they’ll realize how bad of a moth-aunt she really is and let me stay.”

“Anyways what can the orphanage do for you anyways? They’re overcrowded and parents looking for kids never go there. Trust me, you’re better off here” It was the truth, good parents who are well off tend to only adopt newborns from private agencies.”

“How do you know?”

“I just escaped from there, after finding out that they’re going to get me into a family looking for free labor not kids, because no such family exists. Do you want to be sold like cattle?”

“You’re a boy that’s why, they’re nicer to girls.”

“No they’re not, most girls don’t get adopted. They get married off at thirteen to some old drunken creep. Is that what you want?”

“I’m different, I’m not them,” she said with confidence

“And what makes you so different?” Orin asked a little bit offended and yet captivated by her nobility over him that this little girl believed she had.

“I have a father, who’ll love me to death once he knows my existence!”

“Then find him,” he challenged.

“I can’t and my only other alternative is the orphanage.”

“Go home to your Auntie little girl,” Orin then dared to mock her.

“I’m not a little girl! I’m eleven,” she fired back.

“I’m impressed,” he sarcastically teased.

“Yeah well how old are you?”

“Seventeen. Are you going to pick a fight with me now?”

“You do owe me,” she smiled as if she had succeeded.

Orin didn’t quite know what to make of her, her bravado was very amusing to him, “Little girl, I owe you nothing.”

“Stop calling me that!” she got even angrier.

“No,” he shrugged wanting to see how far she’s going to go.

“Stop or else you’ll be sorry,” she warned looking dead serious at him.

He couldn’t believe this girl; she actually was picking a fight with him, “Will I? I can’t believe I’m being threatened by an eleven year old. What could you do?”

“Call me that again and you’ll see.”

It was then that he figured out what this girl actually wanted and it was far more than a fight, “You would like that wouldn’t you? Sorry but I’m not going to give you the pleasure of being another one of your victims.”

There was silence, Orin saw her looking down and playing with her necklace.

“Nice pearls,” he said breaking the silence.

“Thanks, they’re—“

“They almost look real,” he said knowing beforehand what her answer was going to be.

“What if they are real?”

“They’re not,” he laughed.

“How can you be so certain they’re fake?”

“Look at the beads, they’re perfectly alike, so flawless, you’d have to wonder—” She looked at him knowing where he was going with his description, “See, real pearls aren’t perfect, each bead is discreetly unparallel to one another.”

“So they’re not real, it wasn’t like—“

“But you were going to say they’re real,” he interrupted her.

“No I wasn’t!”

“You were going to lie about the pearls weren’t you, to add more your sob story,” Orin laughs.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Yes I am.”

“You can’t claim me a fake when you don’t know me!”

Orin then looked at her deeply, “I may not know you, but from what I’ve seen in within the minutes of meeting you, I know enough to suspect you as something other than the ‘poor little innocent rich girl’ you say you are.”

Catherine looked at him seeing familiarity, “I know who you are.”

“What?” Orin froze in panic.

“I’ve seen you before, you’re—”

“Nobody, I’m not him,” He nervously replied fast.

“It’s you, you’re alive,” She said in awe, “It has to be you.”

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“But you are!”

“I’m not him.”

“Looks who’s the liar now,” Catherine smiled.

“Fine I am him, okay,” He gave up.

“Why are you here?”

“Because my family was assassinated,” he answered while contemplating how he was going to deal with the fact that this head strong little girl recognized who he was.

“So that’s what happened. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll take you to the orphanage if it means that much to you,” He softened not only out of sympathy but fear, this girl could rat him out, I shouldn’t take her too seriously but just keep an eye on her for he knew that this girl would become trouble later on.

“But you’re escaping,” Catherine asked pretending to be concerned.

“Don’t worry about me,” Orin started walking and Catherine followed.

St. Mary’s Convent

New York City 1939

Andra was watching Dove, who was washing the windows as punishment for not behaving courteously. Dove’s our daughter alright, Andra mused to herself, Lets just hope she doesn’t make the same mistakes that Orin has made. It was just like Andra not to admit that she was also the one who made mistakes as well, mistakes much bigger than those of Orin. But she was so self-righteous to feel any guilt for her evil doings unlike Orin, whose guilt for his past doings ruled his life. And Andra also felt no guilt for she believed that whatever she did was the right thing to do.

She continued to watch Dove in the shadows, Where have I seen this before? She mused to herself

New York 1921

Orin was scrubbing the gray walls of the Orphanage as part of punishment for escaping. Little did he know that Catherine was hidden watching him, or did he? He managed getting her there by bribing and pleading saying he’ll eat less so that they can have enough food for her. Eventually it worked out since the head of the orphanage, Mr. Grimke, was away. He was the one who’s turned Catherine away so many times.

Catherine has never had anyone fight for her being. It was a strange thing for her to have someone give up something so vital for the sake of her. She didn’t do anything: she didn’t even beg. She wasn’t even nice to him, in fact she was uncivil. There has to be a reason. No one does something for one not wanting something in return. Or what if this is a plot, what if he’s doing this to get back at me? She thought Whatever the reason, I can’t trust him; I can’t trust no one.

She studied him, he may not be her prince but he sure looked like it with his dark golden blond hair and blue eyes and peaches n’ cream complexion. Her hair used to be that color as well as curly but now it was brown and wavy. When I’m rich I’m going to dye it that color, gold, the color of royalty.

She didn’t care if he wasn’t a prince; she just wanted to believe that he’s him as reassurance. She wanted to believe that the world isn’t cruel and that prince charming wasn’t killed as a child. He’s most likely isn’t him but let me just pretend he is. He may not be an actual prince but he’s my prince. That’s life for me, my prince charming is alive and well as my knight in shining armor...not that I need one.She just wanted one.

“I know you’re here, so why don’t you just come out instead if lurking.”

Catherine came out from her hiding spot, “How did you know I was there?”

“I heard you,” He smiled, “What are you some kind of hunter?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You treat everyone like prey; plotting against, prowling about, luring into traps, disguising yourself,” he teased.

“I’m not disguising myself, I am what I say,” she said holding her head up high.

“So you hope.”

“What does that mean?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Why are you helping me?” she asked changing the subject.

“Who says I’m helping you?”

“What is it that you want?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you, you want something.”

“I don’t want anything from you, I can careless about some pathological lying little girl,” he then turned to her, “But if you want a logical reason, then I did it so you can leave me alone, alright. We’re even, happy now? I got you here.” He went back to scrubbing.

“I’m not a pathological liar.”

“Yeah and those pearls are real.”

“Enough about the pearls! I never said they were real!”

“You were going to try to pass them as real which is the same thing.”

“What’s wrong with pretending?” she look down at him, “Better yet who are you to call me a liar, you’re not who you say either?”

“How can you be so sure to my identity little girl?”

“Don’t call me that, I have a name.”

“I’m sure you do, you probably have many,” he quipped.

“But not as many as you, I’m sure.”

“Which I just asked you, why?”

“One’s on you lower neck,” Orin turned towards her, she continued “you’re called Orin here, and you were once—“

“You still didn’t answer my question.”

“What does VC stand for?”

Orin sighed, “Why do you always change to subject---“ He was about to call her little girl again.

She knew he was going to call her that again and she quickly said, “Please, call me Cas.”

AN: Okay I obviously changed the first two chapters and, to what you think, revealed the mystery. I originally was going to save the royalty issue as a discovery for much later, but as I write this I feel we need to know Orin the same amount as we know Catherine so you can understand them both, knowing where they come from. And I’m not giving away the whole story in the prologue. You may know what going to happen in events, but you don’t know what’s going to happen in their relationship. As I said in the forward, the real mystery isn’t the hidden treasure and what not, the real mystery in the story and what the whole story is all about, is the age old question “Why did Sampson love Delilah?” The rest is just a “muguffin”(a.k.a. a distraction, for instance, it’s what the stolen-cash-in-the-envelope was to the famous Hitchcock movie, Psycho)

St. Mary’s Convent

New York City 1939

“Tell us more Dove!” One of the girls in the crowd sitting near Dove begged, the others begged with her

“Please Dove!”

“Does she really know he’s a prince?”

“Are they going to get married when they grow up?”

“Is she going to become a princess?”

“Enough, enough!” Dove laughs as she gestures them to quiet down on their endless questions, “You’ll find out soon enough, I’ll continue. Now where were we?”

“We were at the part where they’re in the orphanage together.”

“Oh, that part, okay,” Dove clears her throat as she continues, “Orin and Cas…”

Across the room hidden away watching was yet again Andra, I’m now convinced that history does actually repeats itself, she deemed. Damn romantics,’ always love to gush things up, She then smiled to herself, but who am I to complain? Romantics are what made me…

New York City 1921

“My mother was a brilliant dancer…” Catherine expressed over enthusiastically her make-believe portrait of her parents to the group of young orphan girls gathered around her in awe of her tale.

Now she’s a dancer, Orin scoffed to himself, what will she be tomorrow? A painter?

“She had an evil twin sister who was jealous of her because my father, the grand English count, chose her sister over her.”

“I thought your father was a duke?” Orin pried.

“This is none of your concern, so please leave us alone, boy,” Catherine said casually as she beckoned him to go.

“You did not just call me boy?” Orin said at her casual insult.

“I believe I just did.”

“And who are you to call me that?”

“A duchess.”

“Your father’s a count remember?” Orin fought back now having the last word and embarrassing her in front of her admirers. Orin then got up and walked by Catherine leaning down to her and whispering in her ear, “You shouldn’t pick fight with boys twice your size, especially ones smarter than you, little girl.”

“You’ll regret that,” Catherine whispered back looking at him with malicious eyes.

“Surely not, countess,” He playfully bowed before heading out of the room laughing; leaving her alone with her admirers like she wanted in the first place.

It’s time someone put that little dominating liar in her place, not of that of a girl, but that of an impostor; a wolf in sheep’s clothing, as you might say. Orin smiled at his little victory, Boy? She has some nerve calling me that, let alone anyone by that matter. She may think she could fool everyone, and maybe she can, but she can’t be as ridiculously immature to still think that she could fool me…then again she’s only a little girl…nothing but a little girl, that’s all…she can’t hurt me

000

“I did that on purpose you know,” Catherine boasted defensively later that night to Orin sitting alone against a wall. He was enjoying his freedom to be idle before Mr. Grimke came back to put everything in cruel and unfair order. Even though Orin never met the man, he knew from what he heard, that he was an appalling man.

“Really?” Orin rolled his eyes

“I was testing you.”

“Were you now?” He said sarcastically as his eyebrows raised in fake amusement.

“Yeah, you passed.”

“Passed what?”

“You’re who I think you are.”

“No, I just know more than you.”

“Because you’re—“

“Enough already,” said Orin annoyed that nothing can get her to leave him alone.

“Tell me about it,” she urged.

“Tell you about what?” Orin groaned in aggravation.

“About your life before.”

“Why do you want to hear that? To get more ideas to make your make-believe story believable?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Are you? It’s not always wise to meddle in other people business.”

“It’s not wise for those who aren’t prepared.”

Orin was confused by her comment, “Prepared for what?”

“To fight back.”

“All right,” Orin said looking at her strangely because of her odd answer, “But against what?”

“The truth.”

“The truth sets most free, but in your case it could ruin you.”

“Would the truth set you free?”

“You have me there,” he gave up, nothing he could do can keep her away.

“Please tell me about your past.”

“What do you want to know?” Orin said in submitting to her constant bothering.

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Well as much as you’re willing to share.”

“Fine, where do you want me to start with because I have no clue,” Orin said as he rested his head against the wall and signed knowing this was going take awhile.

“Where did you grow up?”

“Not in one place that’s for sure.”

“Really?”

“My family traveled a lot, we barely stayed in one place for more than two months.”

“Why?”

“Our country had harsh winters and being very sickly as a child, it’s wasn’t healthy for me to be in extreme coldness. So in the winters my mother and sisters and I would go to warm places like Italy, Spain, Egypt and India.”

“What about your father?”

“He had to stay since he had a country to rule.”

“Which place was your favorite?”

“Rome, Rome was my favorite place to be,” he pauses when Catherine sits down next to him leaning closely to his side and the back of the wall, he continued, “I loved to go to the coliseum ruins where the gladiators used to fight to the death at. Then there’s the Spanish steps in Piazza Spanga, a treacherous climb, but well worth it, for there was a breathtaking view of the city at the top, the best time to climb is at night when the city is lighted up.”

“But your were weak.”

“Which is why it was treacherous, I had to be carried.”

“Treacherous for the one carrying you, you mean.”

“Well I was littler then, not much bigger than you.”

“Really? I can’t see that, you’re so tall.”

“Well I grew up and so will you soon, as tragic as it might sound.”

“Women can get away with things too,” Catherine said coolly and yet defensively.

“But not easily,” he grinned, “You know, in Rome there’s this famous statue of this gargoyle next to the Trevi fountain, where if you put you hand in it’s mouth and tell a lie it’ll bite your hand off.”

“Not-ah! I don’t believe you!” she was now sitting up and playfully clouted him.

“It’s true!” Orin exclaimed teasingly, “It bites the hands off of liars.”

“You’re joking with me,” she said with her hand crossed over her knees.

“I’m not joking.”

“I’ll have to try it and see for myself then.”

“I’ll take you there someday—unless you’re not up to the challenge,” he smirked.

“I’m not afraid of some old statue, I’ll take the challenge,” she said while keeping her head up regally trying hard to prove she’s not afraid.

“Deal then.”

“You won’t forget?” she then asked suddenly changing from confident to insecure.

“I won’t, trust me, I won’t forget to take you there,” he reassured.

“When will you take me there?”

“Someday.”

“Soon?”

“No, when you’re all grown up I’ll take you.”

“When I’m not a little girl?”

“Yes, when you’re a woman I guess.”

“How old?”

“I don’t know.”

“Your age?”

“Who knows?” Orin said irritated yet again.

“But you will take me?”

“Yes! I told you I would, I gave you my word. What more do you want? Do you want me to write it in blood?”

“A kiss would work,” she suggested with composure.

Orin jumped at her suggestion and at the fact that she seemed serious, “What?! No! I’m not going to kiss you!”

“Why not?” she asked in offense.

“You’re eleven.”

“So?”

“You’re eleven,” he repeated, “I don’t kiss little eleven year olds.”

“I hate being a little girl.”

“Enjoy it, you won’t be it for long.”

“I hate being not taken seriously.”

“I thought that was to your advantage?” he remembered her speech about little girls always being considered innocent.

“It is, most of the time,” she pauses, then quickly changes the subject, “Tell me about your sisters!”

“I really don’t feel up to it.”

“Please” she pleaded giving him a do-eyed look, “How many did you have?”

Orin breathed before he continued, “I have four Tania, Aurora, Moira, and Devonny. Tania was much older than me and loved science and was the responsible one, she was engaged to our cousin from England, Reginald. Then Aurora, who we called Ora for short, was the second youngest, was the artist of the family, she loved to paint. Everywhere we went she’d paint a portrait of our view. Moira was the motherly one, she loved children and wished to someday be a mother of eight, four boys and four girls. She volunteered as a nurse to the soldiers many times and risked her life behind my parents’ back She was selfless and put herself last even when her state was poorer than the one she was helping. She took care of me most of the time when my mother was at social events. Then there was Devonny…” Orin stopped not knowing if he could continue since it was too painful.

“What about Devonny?”

Orin had his head down hiding his grief-stricken face from Catherine, “Listen I can’t talk of this anymore, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t have to ask, she knew the answer as he lifted his face, and it was something in his face that was familiar to her. She looked at him in acquaintance. She knew that face; she’s made it before, and not on purpose, that face of guilt-ridden loneliness. She didn’t feel sorry for him, it wasn’t right and it wouldn’t help him. She felt more than repentant for him…

Like her, he was alone; like her, he had no one. And like her, he wasn’t the one to love easily as vulnerable as he is. They were both interlopers playing the part of an indigenous for their own gains. And for that one moment they were unmasked to truly see one another for the first time, but not the last.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to continue,” she muttered as she got up, she was scared, for the first time, she was scared. She left Orin alone in his past misery she brought up. She didn’t want to care, she couldn’t afford to. Caring for someone makes you weak and submissive; for when you love, you allow someone to have power over you. I’m not my mother and I’m not going to give up all I’ve dreamed in favor of a silly crush. Besides, we’re too independent for each other, but she knew it was far too late.

0o0o0o0

Orin suddenly opened his eyes. It was time. It was ten at night and Mrs. Grimke was most likely asleep. Orin got out of bed and rushed to his escape route, one of the bared windows he loosened with a fork before his last escape attempt. He carefully and quietly removed the bars and set them down lightly. Just when he climb up he felt someone tap him, he jumped as he quickly turned around to see Cas there.

“You again,” he sighed in both relief and annoyance.

“Where are you going?” she whispered.

“Out.”

“Where?”

“None of your business.”

“You’re not leavening are you?”

“Maybe.”

“You can’t.”

“Yes I can.”

“You can’t leave me here alone.”

“You don’t need me.”

I don’t, “You’re the only one here I can trust.”

Orin turned to look towards her in concern, “Why? I’m the only one here that doesn’t care,” he smiled playfully at her.

“Don’t leave me,” she said her eyes growing bigger.

She appeared to be serious, “I’m coming back, I just have something important I need to do,” Orin said incase she was.

“Really?”

“Yes, I’ll be back before you wake up.”

“You’re not going to leave me?”

“How can I? You won’t let me go.”

“You’re right, one scream can keep you here with me,” she said raising her voice to a tone threatening to wake up the orphanage.

“What exactly do you want from me?”

“Your presence, you amuse me.”

“I know what you really want and don’t think for a minute that your angelic face and sweetness can turn me. You don’t need me, you don’t trust me; you don’t even like me. The only reason you want me to stay is because you can’t stand the fact that you can’t win me over. I know exactly who you are and what you want. You can threaten me and you can charm me all you want, I’ll never become another one of your victims, never.”

“Never say never,” she laughed, “I know who you are and what you want too, enough to make you stay.”

“But not enough to obey.”

“You know enough of me to care and that’s just as worse.”

“I told you, I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

Then suddenly she hops up onto the window and stands up on the ledge her hands holding on to the top edge, “Then you won’t mind if I jump off and kill myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You shouldn’t have said that,” she said as she tight-roped the edge teasingly.

“Get down.”

“No,” she said as she started to twist, turn and remove one hand then the other, dancing on the ledge.

“That’s it!” Orin said angrily as he tried to grab her back in. Catherine knew what he was going to do so she swung herself away purposely making herself lose balance and fall, she shrieked as she caught hold on the ledge with both hands, “Quick, give me you hand!” Orin pleaded in panic.

“Why? You don’t care if I fall,” she said as she let go with one hand.

“Damn you, fine I care, alright! Now give me your hand!”

“You’ll always be there for me?”

“Yes! Give me your hand!”

“No matter what?”

“Yes!”

She swung and gave him her hand and he struggled as he pulled her up and back in, they collapsed on the floor.

“Don’t you ever do that again, you hear! How could you be so naïve! You could of killed yourself!” He said sternly as he gripped her shoulders, he was so mad that he just wanted to slap her.

She smirked, “Not with you there, for you care enough never to let me fall.”

“There’s going to a day where someone isn’t going to catch you.”

“No you’re wrong, there’ll always be someone, there’ll always be you. You’re one of those selfless people, who put others first regardless to if they like them or not. And you’re the worst of them all, the pacifist; no matter how much you hate me, you won’t overpower me. For a pacifist like yourself can never defeat his enemies.”

“But you see, us pacifists don’t have to fight with fists, we fight with something more harmful…the truth. One of theses day your facade will come down and they’ll see you for what you really are. And yes I will be there, I wouldn’t miss it for the world, the day you fall from grace. I can’t wait,” He said laughing just before he climbed down to the street and disappeared into the night.

Catherine smiled as she watched him leave, Go ahead laugh, I already have you, whether you like it not, you’re mine she hummed to herself and she skipped along back to her quarters.

0o0o0

Orin walked the few blocks to the restaurant. He didn’t know what to expect, but he was confident, he knew he was right in Pierre’s location. So why was he so nervous? Was it because of their threat? He walked into the restaurant. He could barely breath, the air was so thick with cigarette smoke. There was new age American music playing, fast pace and making the place seem chaotic.

“You’re late kid,” Orin turned to see the same man he saw at the store, Tony standing there nonchalantly at the bar dressed in a fancy suit holding a drink.

“Sorry, I wasn’t able to escape till everyone was asleep,” Orin smiled sheepishly.

“Escape what, your wife and kids?”

Orin chuckled nervously, “No the orphanage.”

“Orphanage, you’re an orphan?”

“Among the thousands.”

“I’m curious, just how does an ‘orphan’ like yourself acquire many languages? Where are you originally from?”

“I was born into a wealthy family, the Van Calloways. Boston is where I was raised mostly, I learned to speak theses languages from my tutors and from my travels,” Orin half lied

“And what brings you here? You don’t look rich.”

“My parents were murdered a couple years ago, their fortune stolen, because I had no other family and no trust fund, I was put into a orphanage.”

“Some luck you have.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ever find your parent’s killer?”

“No, thankfully, or else I wouldn’t be here today, I don’t really know how to put this but my parents had many enemies. So did you find Pierre?”

“Yeah, he was where you said. You’re sly kid, you need protection and I need a interpreter.”

“Listen I didn’t plan to be there at the store—”

“It’s alright, there’s so many immigrant in this city, most think they could outsmart me just because I don’t know speak their language, I need to prove them wrong just as you need a new family.”

“I’m—“

“Honored, take awhile to think about it, and don’t worry about anything, I’ll take care of the strict orphanage soon.”

0o0o0

Orin climbed up the fire escape, it was seven in the morning, and he knew he was going to get caught, he wouldn’t have bothered coming back but he had to. Whether he like it or not she was threat, if he left her now she would do something against him. She knew, and her knowledge was enough to corrupt his very existence. She may be just a little girl, but she’ll grow up, as all little girls do, into something more. And with the ambition and the charisma she has, she will not disappear and will not give up; she can’t be ignored, and she can’t be stopped. You’re either her victim or her enemy, never a friend, never a lover. She can’t trust enough to have friend and she can never allow herself to love, for these things, in her mind, caused something more than weaknesses…guilt. Orin refuses to be her victim, so what’s left? Does that make him her enemy? He has to be, he’s as much as a threat to her as she is to him. That’s why he came back, because he cared…that is about his future. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Just as he climbed and removed the window frame and went in, he noticed that it was quiet, dead quiet. He wasn’t that early, in fact, he was late. There was no one around cleaning, yelling, fighting, and crying. The day usually starts at five in the morning, no later. He walked quietly downstairs and snuck a peak in the large dining room where everyone would most likely be at if not working. Then all of a sudden someone from behind grabbed him by the shoulders and brutally shoved him hard against the wall. It turns out Mr. Grimke has come back early.

“You must be that runaway cutup!” He snarled in Orin’s face, Orin was wincing in pain from the recent violent welcome

“Put him down,” an unrecognizable voice said in a threatening low tone.

“Who said that?” Mr. Grimke bellowed as he threw Orin down, Orin rubbed his sore shoulders while looking to see whom it was.

“Thank you so much for obeying me,” Cas stepped out from the crowed standing with poise and maturity.

“You, how’d you get in here?” he sneered at the sight of her.

“I was invited,” She clicked her tongue, “My, you sure haven’t changed much, still a man of low class preying on weak little orphans for some sense of power. When will you learn, feed off the well fed and not the starving?”

“I may be of low class but at least I have a father, I’m not as low as you missy, a mere bastard of a whore! The lowest of the low, the bottom” He laughed “Stay if you must, there’s no question to if you need too.” Everyone looked at Cas as if she was a leper.

“I thought you said, your mother was a countess painter?” one girl laughed.

“A countess, ha! More of a courtesan I should say,” Mr. Grimke joked.

“Sure looks like one”

Cas stood holding posture and pride as she smiled and look down upon them, “Say what you want, laugh, I don’t care, for none of you matter to me. Prejudice doesn’t weaken it strengthens,” she laughed, “Someday I’ll be so rich, so loved, so respected…so powerful that no one, not even you-” she looked at Orin, “can stop me. I may be at the bottom now but that doesn’t mean I can’t bring myself up. And I will go far up, high above you all, above everyone, even royalty, maybe even sainthood! Go ahead, I find you all amusing, you pathetically ignorant scants, you’ll see, one day very soon you grovel to me, as most will do eventually one way or another,” She laughed once more before she ran away.

But will they grovel in respect or fear? And what is it exactly that they are going to grovel to her for? Her kindness or their lives that she purposely puts at stake? One way or another, she wins them over, or they eventually lose themselves to her. ..all except Orin. Never will he give up or give in to her, never

She stood up for him though, she actually did something selfless, and for him. Then again was it she who spoke out? For that couldn’t have been the same little girl he’d met and known for days, that voice wasn’t hers…or was it? The tone of it was like that of a women’s not of the innocent little girl she was or appeared to be.

Orin then got up and ran after her. Maybe she can have a friend, there’s no question to if she needs one. He found her alone, of course, huddled in the corner of the girl’s sleeping quarters. She wasn’t crying, just staring straight forward at the wall. She didn’t say anything when he approached her, she didn’t even look his way. They stood there in silence for what seemed like minutes.

And just when Orin opened his mouth, she spoke out still staring away, “I know what you’re going to say, you got your moment, you saw me fall from grace, happy now?” her voice was back to what it was before

“No I’m not, I don’t find happiness from seeing people get hurt and humiliated, even those that I’m not quite fond of, ” He sat down next to her, “So why do you lie all the time? You know that it’ll always backfires sooner or later.”

“Lying only backfires when you’re with those familiar to you,” she finally looked at him, “but when you’re in a new surrounding, you can be anything you say you are just as long as you’re convincing.”

“You can play the part well but you’ll never become it.”

“You’re wrong, as long as no one remembers who you were, then you can rewrite history and change your past simply by telling lies, good lies.”

“Why be another heiress? No one likes to hear about heiresses unless they’re in danger. You can be the next Cinderella, everyone loves Cinderella, she brings hope while the heiress brings jealousy.”

“That does sound nice but you see I want to be more than a Cinderella, I want to a Robin Hood,” there was a spark in her eyes as she said that.

“However Robin Hood has enemies as well as followers.”

“Yes, that is the price. When you’re a hero to one, you’re an enemy to another. Enemies aren’t a problem as long as you lead a successfully concealed double life.” There was silence once more before she spoke, “You came back,” she looked away, “Why?”

“It’s in my nature, remember?” Orin smiled lightheartedly.

“Tell more about your trips to Europe and Asia,” she pleaded to him looking her age as she looked up at him.

“I should tell you about India then, another of my favorites,” he replied, he owed it to her for speaking out for him and blowing her cover.

He told her more of his life before, the happier times before the war and she eagerly listened. For once she wasn’t under a certain guise, she didn’t have a reason to be with him. What others may not see is that she was a romantic herself. She told lies not only to convince others, but more to convince herself. Her sheer confidence in herself had to come from somewhere. No matter had bad her past or her actions, she always viewed them as good and just. She was her own hero, even her own god; Cas’s religion was herself. And anyone who dared to lower her morale in herself or “her beliefs” won’t succeed. Anyone can kill her being but only one can kill her sheer dignity.

Cas was Medusa; everyone who got in her way turned to stone at her stare, and the only one who could stop her was the one with a mirror of her face.

St. Mary’s Convent

New York City 1939

Cas was sitting on the balcony smoking and reflecting. Did I really have him? Or did he have me? I don’t really know anymore. All I know is that he was…what am I saying? He was nothing to me, just a fun sport …then how come--? I’ll never forgive for what he’s done to me just like he can’t forgive me for leaving---I haven’t done wrong, I did what I had too, I was just a girl then, he can’t hold that against me! And he wasn’t there, not like I needed him there, he wouldn’t have been much help, he’d make things worse considering our stance then.

Why am I here? Was this part of my dream as a child? No because I never dreamed that far. I’m not old, I’m only 29, nearly ten years younger than my that hag was when she had me. Maybe he was right, I did too much, too soon. One things for sure, I completed everything I dreamed, that’s the problem.

You dream and plan how you’ll get there and eventually make it there no matter what it takes…but what happens after when the glory fades and you’re left with the consequences of your impulsive measures to majesty?

You’re left solitary with yourself hiding out from what you most feared…who just happens to be a few floors below as innocent as her name yet as threatening as a shameful secret… who’s born with everything you ever sought after and could never have strictly by bloodline revealing all you didn’t live up to.

Yes, you can hate someone you don’t even know

New York City 1921

Orin was alone thinking to himself, as Cas playfully snuck behind and jumped on his back, “So what are you brooding about, my nemesis? Could it be a master plan to rid me away?” she giggled as she had her arms around his neck.

“You’re in a cheery mood.” He touched her arm on his neck, “You’re choking me.”

“I have reason to be,” she smiled mischievously.

“Such as?” he gripped her arm “Could you let go?”

“Never,” she whispered in his ear

Orin took hold of her and tried to get her off him, but she wouldn’t let go. He struggled, taking his hands to her hands trying to pry them apart. Failing to do so, he managed to twist her around and her face was now facing his, inches apart. Suddenly, taking him by surprise, she kissed him.

“It’s my birthday today,” she laughs before running off. He was between stunned and outraged, touching his lips as if they had just been burned. She stopped and turned to him, “and you never said anything about not kissing twelve-year-olds,” she gave a smirk before leaving him.

0o0o0o0o0

Tony was sitting at the bar with Ormond Stratton, “Ormond, you’ve lived in Boston before.”

“For a few years awhile back,” he sipped his drink.

“So you know every rich socialite in the area?”

“Of course, why?”

“I have to ask, have you heard of a family by the name of Van Calloway.”

Ormond froze and nearly choked on his drink, “Van Calloway? Why do you ask?” his face was white.

“Because,” Tony shrugged, hiding a smile from seeing Ormond’s reaction.

“Why?” he hissed looking around nervously.

“What’s wrong my friend? You look tense.”

“What do you know about Van Calloway?”

“Is there something I should know?”

“Come with me, I can’t speak of it here.”

They walked into an empty office and shut the door behind them, Tony turns on the lights, “What’s the big deal on that name?”

“Oh God, that name, has been haunting me for years, making my life hell.”

“Why so?”

“Where did you hear that name?”

“Where did you?”

“You first.”

“I heard a guy mention it,” Tony twisted the truth.

“That name, that name doesn’t exist but it has more importance than any name that does. A few years ago I was assigned by the government to hide a foreign family.”

“What was so special about them? Money perhaps?”

“Money was only a small fraction, for you see this was Stanimer’s and his family.”

“What? You never mentioned this to me.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You didn’t—You weren’t part of—?“ he looked more seriously at him.

“No! But I can see why many would.”

“Go on.”

“This family had more than power and a legacy, the had a fortune, a huge one.”

“Lost, I heard.”

“Exactly, but there’s more to this story, there’s a reason to why they never caught the rebels who killed the family.”

“Interesting.”

“That’s not the interesting part. That night, the shooting, according to his generals, Stanimer’s most cherished possession, his one and only son, the heir, was to be spared.”

“No,” he gasped, “You mean that man’s son is alive.”

“Alive, yes but somehow they ‘lost’ him, though I seriously think he ran away, I wouldn’t blame the poor fellow.”

“He’s the son of a powerful and rich ruler, what’s there to run from.”

“True a rich and powerful ruler who happened to kill millions in his reign and was the most hated man in the world. How’d you like that for a father?”

“Alive? I’d think he’d be dead from suicide by now.”

“Or illness. Nonetheless the generals won’t leave me alone about this kid. I’ve been searching ever since, checking every orphanage on the east coast. They want this kid and they will do anything to get him back. The kid has many values, not only is he their last heir but the one and only key to the family fortune.”

“He has a map to it?”

“He is the map, only a Calvanov knows where the fortune’s hidden.”

“You’re not going to find him, even if he’s still alive, it’s been years, he looks completely different than his pictures by now, unrecognizable.”

“In which they thought of before, the family suspected that they’d get assassinated so they marked each family member with the initials of their alias American name.”

“Van Calloway?”

“Precisely, upper back for the males, the hip for the females.”

“Whoever finds that kid is very lucky.”

“That is, if whomever gains his trust.”

“Exactly,” Tony smiled, “whomever,” he noticed Ormond waiting for his real response, “The Van Calloway I meant was some Irishman who ripped me off, not a lost heir.”

“Some Irishman, aye,” Ormond repeated skeptically.

0o0o0o0

“Why did you kiss me?” Orin asked Cas, still mad at her.

“I told you.” She ignored his anger and was still cheery, skipping down the halls.

“Don’t ever do that again! You can’t just go and kiss me like that!” Orin followed her.

“Why?” she asked, knowing the answer and not caring.

“Because, you’re a little girl, that’s why! Little girls shouldn’t—“

“There’s a lot of things little girls, like me, shouldn’t be doing, but even you know that little girls don’t stay little forever.”

“That may be so, Cas, and unfortunately by that time, that time you’re not little anymore, I’ll already have a woman, a woman that isn’t you, a woman my age.”

She stopped and smiled at him, Wanna bet? She already threatened Beatrice, a girl next door who was Orin’s age and had taken a liking to him. She didn’t have to worry about womanly Beatrice anymore. “I’m sure you will, and perhaps by that time, I too will have a man, a man that isn’t you, a man older and richer than you are who will love me more than anything and will treasure every kiss I give him.”

“Right, your future prince charming, whoever that might be.”

“What? You don’t believe I’ll find him?”

“Oh, you’ll find him alright, there’s no doubt about that,” he laughed, “and whoever that might be, I feel very sorry for him.”

“Sorry for him or jealous of him, Orin? There’s a difference.”

“Is there now? Tell me, why would I be jealous of a man who has a fate I wouldn’t wish on a snake?”

She stood unhurt and emotionless, “Why would you? Ask yourself that again at my grand wedding, when you’re there, personally invited by me, standing with the guests looking over me as I walk down the isle, infatuated and awestruck by my presence.”

“Why would you invite me?”

“To prove you wrong.”

“All that, just to make yourself right? You won’t even remember me by then, let alone obsess over something I said to you.”

“You’d be surprised.”

There were a lot of things Orin didn’t know about Cas. One of which was that she was vengeful, obsessively and fatally vengeful. What Orin didn’t know then, was that already at such a young age, Cas had a list, a list full of the names of men she vowed to destroy once she came of age. What was ironic though, was that Orin’s newfound friend was the man at the very top of her hit list, and whoever crosses Cas, was forever her enemy.

England 1939

Orin was struggling picking his locks trying to break free as his past memories came alive. No matter what he always seemed to wind up in confinement, years of running and hiding and here he was, found and captured. But surely not defeated though, for he’s not the same person he was then. He was Orin Riles. Suddenly he was reminded of her.

I’m sure Cas would find this funny. She’d call it poetic justice as I called her fate. Years of boasting, scaring and conquering, yet she’s the biggest coward, and once she gained all she sought, what did she do? She faked her death and ran, leaving “her beloved people” to fend for themselves. Years of ridiculing me for hiding my true identity and lying to everyone, and here was she, hiding her own fears and lying to herself. I find it funny that here she is now hiding away and lying about her true identity, like I once did. It’s ironic, actually. Ironic how she’s what she vowed she’d never become, whom she’s hated most, she’s always been and will forever be. It was inevitable and she knew it.

She’s near Dove. I know she is. I don’t depend on her to save Dove, she’s too selfish, why would she save Dove when she left her when she was at the most vulnerable state? The only hope for Dove, is Dove herself, just as Cas wanted.

New York City 1921

Orin was suddenly grabbed and taken away from cleaning by Mr. Grimke.

“Well guess who came ahead of schedule for you?”

“Who?” He asked, hoping it’ll be Tony.

“Mr. Clemmons, the farmer I’ve been talking about. He’s come all this way from Alabama to get you.”

He led Orin, gripping tightly on his elbow and keeping him from running off, to the dining room where that farmer was waiting. He threw Orin down on one of the chairs.

“Is this the boy?”

“Yes, as you see, he’s very healthy and strong. A little stubborn, but nothing you can’t fix by strict discipline showing him whose boss.”

The man looked greasy, dirty overalls and a flannel shirt over his rolls of fat, his face grim and long with sunken eye sockets and white beard that his the rest of his tan lather skinned face.

“Stand up, boy,” He ordered. Orin did so and he looked him over from head to toe like he was livestock. Orin stayed silent, hating being treated this way and close to running for his freedom. “How old is he again?”

“Nearly seventeen. Look at his teeth, if you don’t believe he’s healthy.”

“He’s quite nice looking, my daughter will like that, and she’s getting older and desperately needs a husband.”

Orin’s eyes budged in fear at that statement. He jerked, ready to flee, but Mr. Grimke’s hand was gripping at his elbow again.

0o0o0o0

Meanwhile Cas was out front playing with her pearls as a car pulled up. The door opened and out walked him…He was as she always remembered, fine suit, slicked back hair, grin on his face, Tony Casoni. Hatred was in her eyes as he approached her, and smiled scathingly, “Well look who this, little Cassie, does your mother know you’re here?”

“Does your wife know that you screw her?” she casually retorted.

“Touché, and what if she doesn’t, you’re going to tell on me?” he laughed.

“If I was going to tell on you I would have already done it earlier with all the other crimes and you’d be jail.”

“Yes, and why you didn’t is because you know better that if you did you’d be in serious trouble, young lady.”

Cas smiles at this and laughed hysterically. He had no clue. “You fool, black mail is for novices who are afraid of their opponents.” Revenge is for those talented and fearlessly driven, as me.

“Do you know just who you’re laughing at?” He was infuriated.

“The big bad wolf,” she mischievously smirked, hiding her pain. Who he really was to her, Cas never wanted to accept as true, his connection to her was another lie she told herself.

“And just who’s afraid of the big bad wolf, Cassie?” He played along.

“Everyone,” she paused growing serious and looking him deeply in the eyes, “but me.”

“Why is that? Could it be that you’re one too? You threatened your way here, didn’t you?”

“I was invited.”

“By whom?”

“By a friend.”

“A friend? You, have a friend?” He now laughed hysterically, “You’re a riot Cassie, I know you, and you’re like me, someone who can’t ever have friends. You could be a good friend, I’m sure, when you want something, but actually have a friend, someone you trust, that isn’t your character.”

“I’m nothing like you,” she shot as she glared at him, wishing he would drop dead. “So don’t you think you could predict what is and isn’t in my character.”

“What are you saying, you’re like your mother?”

“I’m myself, an unpredictable riot who happens to have a friend who has nothing I desire but his trust.”

“Oh, I see now just what kind of friend you have,” he smiled knowingly before heading in, leaving Cas in her fury.

0o0o0o0

Orin thought his life had become over and done for having his life signed away, and maybe he was right, but the truth was his life had already become over and done for by blood. On this certain day, Orin would trap himself in everything he planned on escaping. Even as somebody else, peace was still a far-fetched dream to him, and no matter who he became, it would always be.

There he was about to be taken away by a stranger wanting free labor, when the door suddenly burst open and there stood the answer to his prayers, Tony.

Tony was a known man in a city so big and easy to hide in, everyone knew who he was and his importance, he was in fact a powerful mob boss that no one would be as dumb as to defy him; well that is, anyone that isn’t Cas.

“Casoni, what brings you here?” Mr. Grimke cowardly asked.

“I’m here for a friend of mine,” Tony stated knowing he’d succeed in his plan...

To be continued...