Blood Is Thicker...
By
Christine
Part One
Chapter 8
She followed him as he carried her case to his room, but hesitated at the door. “Wait,” she said uncertainly.
“What is it?”
“Um….” She stammered, “W-when is Mr. Fouchon coming back.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” He felt unease creeping in again. “I, I can’t be staying in here. I can’t be sharing a room with you…when he gets back.” She bit her bottom lip, awaiting his reaction. He always seemed so touchy when she mentioned Fouchon. His reaction was frightening.
He set her case down and stood up stiffly. He spun around and she saw fury in his eyes. He approached her and backed her with his glare into the hallway until the wall stopped her retreat.
“Listen….” she began.
“No. You listen. I don’t understand. You say you love me. And yet you are willing to give yourself to a miserable man like Fouchon?! For what? Don’t you think I can take care of you? He’ll just hurt you. Don’t you know I love you?! I do. Not him. He never will…” Madeleine barely held off her laughter as she realized what Pik was insinuating. “Yes! He will!” she almost giggled out, unable to stop herself.
Pik lost control, incredulous that she was laughing at his anguish. He nearly growled as he punched the wall on either side of her head, “You are really starting to hurt my feelings,” he said with a deadly calm.
She ducked under him and ran into his room. She flipped open the suitcase and moved around the room with it, digging for something, as he advanced on her, raging. She didn’t feel like laughing anymore. This was not funny at all. She had grossly underestimated the degree of his misunderstanding and knew she was in danger. She was scampering backwards across the floor of his large walk-in closet when her hands closed around the envelope. She held it in front of her like a shield and prayed he would listen for just a moment.
“Pik! Pik, please, there’s no one but you for me. No one. I do love you, I do! There’s no one. Please listen to me.” He stopped, a seething, evil-looking man she didn’t know. She gestured toward the envelope.
“Listen, remember when I told you my parents were killed in a car accident?” Pik didn’t respond. Madeleine decided to talk quickly. “They weren’t my real parents. I mean, they were…” He took a step closer. “Stop! Just stop. They adopted me, okay?! This,” she waved the envelope, “was in a safe deposit box. I got it when they died. It has lots of stuff in it, including information about my real parents, my birth parents.” Pik still seemed unfazed, but he no longer looked murderous. He tilted his head toward her in a gesture for her to continue, but danger was still in his eyes. “It’s all in here, in this envelope. My original birth certificate, my birth parents’ marriage license, everything, all the proof I need.”
He began to reach for the envelope and she said, “Pik, Emil Fouchon is my father.”
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