Chapter 5: Rule #5: Power Doesn't Corrupt.

Beauregard

"You have a very poetic way of speaking," I observed.

I was trying to look like I was digging in the dirt when in actuality I was just staring at my sister entrusting her secrets to a practical stranger, all while not feeling like a complete asshole in the process. My blood boiled at the thought of her carrying the guilt of my death for the last two decades. There was a large part of me that wanted to yell that I was fine, after all, I was in front of her. But I feared that if I ripped off the bandaid not only would it completely change the trajectory of her life but draw a huge target on her back.

"When you spend most of your life alone you fill that time with imaginary friends, mine just happened to be fictional characters in books. I went to school to study literature and it unlocked a whole new language for me... then I started writing my own when I couldn't find books that satisfied the connections I needed."

"Where did you go to school?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"Just a local state college, it was close to the house, and they offered online classes. My dad was pretty onboard with my educational choices as long as it meant I stayed inside."

"Abby said you two met in college?"

"Senior year of college there was a trip to Italy, I had never been out of the state of South Carolina before, the trip was once in a lifetime, my grades were so good that it meant that I could go for free. I begged my father for weeks, and then one day he just agreed. I met Abby on the trip...and she's been the only real friend I've ever had. Trust me she's just as clingy with me as she is with you." She said with a laugh, "But she's constant, consistent and loving in her way."

"Can I ask you about this engagement?" I pressed, but I could tell she wanted me to push. She was the kind of girl that craved human interaction and conversation, but hesitancy naturally overtook her. She looked at me like nobody had ever looked at me before and even though my mission was to take her down, I couldn't help but feel that I wanted to protect her with every single fiber of my being. Was this a brotherly instinct? I wondered.

"Sure, what do you want to know?" She cleared her throat re-focusing her attention back on the project in front of her.

I needed to be careful because bringing up topics could pose the risk of exposing myself completely. It was thin ground but I needed to find out who her intended groom was before Javier. This way, I could get ahead of him, especially if it was someone associated with the family. Beatrice had been guarded from the dark side of our father. Though I didn't agree with his methods, he had spun a pretty intricate web around her to keep her safe, and I would do anything in my power to keep her safety intact while I pulled the cobwebs off of her.

"Who's the lucky guy?" My tone of excitement sounded half sincere.

"No one from around here, he's just a family friend," she responded, her voice void of any emotion that should be associated with one's wedding.

Her small omission told me everything, and though I knew there was a chance that our father had done something entirely stupid by selling not one but now two of his children told me volumes about Ken Halifax's financial state. It also told me that there were indeed eyes on my sister...better, more experienced eyes than mine.

"Where did the two of you meet?" I asked prying for more information, walking that thin line.

"I actually have never met him. Well, no, that's a lie. I met him once, but our interaction was brief." She admitted, she spoke quickly, not meeting my eyes.

"Like an arranged marriage or something?" I kept my tone purposefully light, though internally I was burning with anger.

"It's not that uncommon actually, even if it's not that popular. Did you know that in the old days, specifically in Russia in the early 20th century, families would barter their sons and daughters off in marriage. In some literature you even see the theme romanticized."

Beatrice spoke quietly, digging back in the dirt. She let her words flow, while her hands worked. I was learning that her coping mechanism for her anxiety was her words, so I let her talk, I let her tell me what I needed to learn.

"We are shown in these stories princesses being given to princes in order to negotiate peace between kingdoms. Rulers from afar send their daughters over to new lands in hopes to foster relationships and make trade deals for their countries. It was sort of a gesture for keeping the peace and the ally between the two lands strong and bonded.

We know in these stories though there is a dark truth, and with that truth, comes pain. Daughters are sold to men who hurt them, boys and girls secretly tied in a marital contract at birth, never having a say over their lives or lovers. Marriage became a duty. As the world evolved, and humans progressed, some cultures held onto these old ways. When the settlers came across the seas and poured their blood, sweat, and tears into these new stolen lands, they would buy women of ill repute from their mother countries to be their wives. Women have been and always will be just a pawn to men as long as their father sees them as a transaction."

"Is that what you feel you are Beatrice? A transaction?" Beatrice's hand's hesitated before placing a purple flower in the hole she had just dug.

"There was this time that Abby talked me into going to the beach with her... it was the first time since Italy that I had left the house for more than an afternoon. It felt good to be somewhere other than those four walls. I came home early. Health stuff. There was this strange man in my father's office holding a gun to my father's head.

"He had come to collect money my father owed him. A debt. I watched it all, I heard it all, I stupidly interrupted it. I stood there frozen while this manmade my father tell me what he did to owe him this debt. My father owed very powerful families a lot of money, not just one, but four specific families and this man was there to ensure payment. The consequence for my father not paying was my father's life. My father's life for a debt paid in full."

"What did you do Beatrice?" Dread settled itself in the pit of my stomach.

"I can't believe I'm telling you this, I haven't even told Abby this," Beatrice admitted.

"What did you do?" I insisted, pressing her to confess what I already knew her answer to be.

"Somehow, terrified, my body and voice both trembling, I managed to speak up. I asked him if there was another way. I had already lost so much." Her words poured out as tears built in her eyes once more.

She forced them back and swallowed hard.

When she looked up at me it suddenly brought my awareness back to myself. That thick vein in my neck was popping out, my nostrils were flaring, my body was hot. I was having an outward reaction and I didn't realize it until now. I panicked. Get it together, I thought. This was an inexcusable reaction for someone who was supposed to be focused. I was thrown off. I needed to hate the woman sitting in front of me and I slipped, feeling sympathy for her like a strong pull to the heart.

"The man with the gun said that he could bring a different option to the four families, but if they didn't all agree he'd be back to kill my dad. Of course, in the waiting between the man's leaving and return my father tried to explain everything to me. My mother's medical bills were building up, my college tuition, and the house mortgage. But none of it made sense, the man said he borrowed from four families. The man returned within an hour, he placed a contract on the desk, and told me it was marriage or my father's life."

"Please tell me your father begged for death, Beatrice," I replied knowing the end result already but a small portion of me held on to the idea that our father redeemed himself.

"He didn't say anything. He watched me sign the papers. When I asked the man who the contract was between, he said himself, told me I had a year to get my shit together and I haven't seen him since." Her voice was quiet, her head tilted, I was losing her in the memory.

"What did he look like?" I quickly changed my line of questioning hoping that it would keep her with me.

"Why are you interested?" She asked. That was her first question back to me. "I'm not some puzzle to solve, some broken thing to put back together. I don't know what Abby has told you and trust me, I know the way she looks at me, I understand that I'm fascinating. 'What else will happen to Beatrice today!' is a running joke, I get it. But I have two months of this." She opened her hands to her surroundings, "To enjoy this." She continued, "This might sound like some captivating tale, but I'm suffocating and swallowing the reality of my fate."

I watched Beatrice as she struggled to get up and leave me behind in the dirt.

I pushed her too far. I asked her too many questions that backed her into a corner where she didn't have any other choice than feeling like she was back there, in that moment, having to pick between herself and her loyalty to her father.

I threw the handful of dirt from my hand, closing my eyes against the building headache, praying I hadn't just ruined everything.