Cristiane Serruya - Trust: Betrayed

She looked up to find Alistair’s gaze locked on her face. She settled her leg on the sofa, put her hand on his check and said softly, “Does redemption always have to be achieved through violence and punishment or is it possible through gentler traits, such as love, understanding and peace?”

Will you give me a second chance? Alistair closed his eyes and leaned his face on her hand.

“No one is past redemption, Alistair Connor, if one wills it.”

So optimistic, Sophia. He had never wanted to believe in someone’s opinion so much. He felt like crying such was the despair and the hope that warred within him.

“What is it?” she asked softly. “Talk to me.”

He looked at the window panes. Rain poured outside as if the weather understood his mood.

“I need to tell you something,” Alistair spoke quietly.

“Tell me, then.” Sophia straightened herself on the sofa and looked at him. What she saw sent a cold shiver through her spine and dread pooled in her heart. “What is it?”

“I... I didn’t tell you my whole story.” He swirled his wine in the glass and stared at it for a long time. “I never explained to you how I discovered that Heather was cheating on me.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck again.

Sophia’s heartbeats increased to a thousand per minute. Oh, please, leave Heather’s ghost outside my home. “You don’t need to. It’s an unpleasant subject so...” she murmured.

“Well, I never claimed to be sane, did I?” Alistair refilled her glass with wine and blurted the truth before he could repent. “Heather... She gave me a rare STD, Mycoplasma genitalium. The usual tests didn’t detect it. The treatment started too late... After more than a year. It was successful, but... the prolonged infection...” He was watching her face carefully, waiting for the shock to appear. “Sophia... I’m sterile.”

Sophia paled and didn’t utter a word. She was incapable of speaking, of any kind of coherent thought.

Unbidden, an image took shape in her mind - a large, black-haired, rugged man sprawled on the rug of her TV room with a dark-haired boy, the spitting image of his father, lying on his chest. She heard the child’s giggles over a deeper rumbling laughter - she could see them, there, only a few feet away from her. She almost reached out to touch them.

In her mind, she did. She stretched out her hand to the man’s familiar shoulder, hard and stable as rock. Light shined on their black windblown locks. Unable to help herself, completely fascinated, she reached out, hesitantly, for the child’s face. And beautiful forest green eyes so like his father’s blinked playfully at her. As she watched the scene, she felt a chilling cold spread through her whole body.

She prayed. Prayed for a booming voice to say that Alistair was not sterile. That it was all a huge mistake. But then a horrible black shadow fell over the room and extinguished the light. It swallowed the image whole, banishing it to the realm of unattainable dreams.

Emotion welled up, unlike any she’d known. Tears filled her eyes and she almost sobbed with the grief that permeated her soul. Dazed and faint, she shook her head.

There. I knew it. “Say something,” he pleaded in a whisper, afraid to touch her and be repelled. “Anything...”

“Are you sure?” Was all she could ask in a voice so low that he more divined than heard the words.

He breathed deep and told her about the awful day when Doctor Ben had given his final verdict.

“There’s no doubt. I can’t have any more children.” His voice was so laden with pain that Sophia shoved her own deep down in her soul.

A thousand thoughts invaded her mind as she tried to sort out what she knew about that disease. Nothing came to her mind. Sophia had never worried about STDs. But she made a mental note to gather all the information she could about it. “And why-” Why would you think it would matter to me?

Why am I telling you this now? “I’m sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair, humiliated. “I should have told you from the beginning.” Christ! “But it makes me feel... less of a man. Our relationship is getting serious and I know you want more children. I don’t want you to become more involved, if I can’t fulfill your dreams.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly, but watching her closely for a reaction. “I think it’s only fair so you can decide if you want to conti-”

Sophia put a finger on his lips. “You didn’t let me finish my question.” She felt a sharp pain slice her heart in a million pieces. “Why do you think it would matter to me?”

What? He remained silent, as if struck by a blow.

Her voice was soothing when she asked, “If it were the other way round, would you not have me? Would it be over for you?”

He gasped, indignant and scowled at her, “I would have you in any way, Sophia.”

She scooted closer to him. “So would I.” Her fingers interlaced with his and she squeezed gently. “So will I.”

“But, my love, I don’t want-”

“Shhh,” she put her fingers on his mouth and browsed the book. “Here, read.”

Alistair read the passage she was pointing at.

And read again.

He raised his eyes seeking her help, because he wished it to be true but needed confirmation.

She knew that the help he was asking was not for translation. His French was better than hers. Anyway, she read out loud in English, “‘You no longer belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I buy from you; I withdraw it from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God.’” She looked up and fixed his gaze with hers, “The bishop bought Valjean’s soul when he gave him the two candlesticks, because it was what Valjean needed. Now, Alistair Connor, I’m buying your soul. It’s not such a high price to pay, is it?”

“Not being able to have children?”

She smiled softly, “That’s only one way of having children. There are others. We could adopt.”

I have been so ignorant. His chest constricted at the kindness of this beautiful woman. This is what real love is all about.

London, The City. Ashford Steel Industries.

Tuesday, March 23rd, 2010.

10.08 a.m.

“Mr. Ashford?” Scott asked.

Ethan blinked, focusing on his assistant, who had just interrupted his musings.

“May I come in, sir?” Scott asked, with a big grin on his thin face.

“Yes, of course.” Ethan nodded, already intrigued by what his assistant had to say. His smiles were very rare as he seemed to be always afraid of Ethan’s opinion.

Scott entered the room and put the folder he was carrying in front of Ethan. “Sir, Mrs. Chanda, the president-”

“I know who she is, Scott,” Ethan said impatiently. “What about her?”

“Sir, it’s wonderful. They have already created a new strategy for the contribution you wanted to make in India and China and she just called saying they are ready to discuss it with you. I took the liberty of scheduling them for Friday, at eleven, here, if it is okay with you, sir.”

“Good,” a smile spread over Ethan’s now permanently shaved face. He turned to his computer and quickly scanned his schedule for that day. Scott had already booked the hour. “I’m sure you made certain that Ms. Leibowitz is going to be at the meeting.”

“Mrs. Chanda said that Ms. Leibowitz is personally supervising this project. I think, sir, that we should plan a charity gala event to launch it. Maybe a black tie ball. The Leibowitz Foundation and Ashford Steel together.”

“That has a nice ring to it, Scott. I’ll talk about it with Sophia. Please, make reservations for lunch after the meeting. At one o’clock. At L’Atelier. Inform Chef Olivier that I’ll be celebrating a business transaction and that I want the last table by the living wall. Scott, make sure that Sophia and I are both seated on the sofa. I don’t want a single table.”

“Sir, perhaps a restaurant with a private and cozy room?”

“Hmm. No, I don’t think so.” Ethan thinned his lips and shook his head. “Sophia is still with MacCraig. She wouldn’t like it. You can start planning the charity ball. Show me your ideas before the meeting so I can talk her into it.”

Scott put his narrow shoulders back and puffed his thin chest, proud of himself. “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure the Leibowitz and Ashford ball is as spectacular as the two people who name it.”

“Please, inform Carter that I have scheduled a conference call with Mr. Chang, from Ashford China, at 10 p.m. today, and that I’ll need him.”

“Yes, Mr. Ashford. I’ll stay later too, preparing everything for the ball.” Scott smiled inwardly. “Ah, and I have news. Good news. Ghost has already started to work on the Leibowitz network.”

Ethan smiled like a child that been given a much wanted toy. “Good, Scott. Very good. Keep me informed, please.”

“Of course, Mr. Ashford.” There was no doubt in Scott’s mind that his boss’s weakness was Sophia Leibowitz. And to keep him pleased and the bonuses coming into his bank account, he would do everything. Anything.

Atwood House.

Wednesday, March 24^th, 2010.

7.28 p.m.

“No, Alistair, I can’t,” Sophia propped the handset between her cheek and her shoulder as she walked to her bookshelf looking for a book, “not tonight.”

“Again?” I shouldn’t have told her. She is keeping me away. “Sophia, I miss you. Somewhere simple, something quick.”

It has been only three days. “Alistair, my dear... I’m tired. My day was just terrible. I got stuck in a huge traffic jam on the way back from Cambridge; Edward is still ill; and my computer crashed twice at the end of the day.” She singled out the book she was looking for and walked back to her desk. “I brought some work home, but Gabriela demanded my attention. I’m reviewing a pro bono case that Paul Evergreen discussed with me today.”