Things were looking good for this year’s charity gala.
Every year something always went wrong in the week leading up to the event, causing a mad scramble to fix and get everything back on track.
Samuel Devreaux watched his people sorting through the supplies he’d had delivered so when the day came they could begin setting everything up without disrupting the birthday celebration that had reserved the room until mid afternoon of the same day.
It would be a tight squeeze with only two hours to clean it out and set up for the event, but Samuel knew his people were efficient. They would be done with minutes to spare if he had anything to say about it.
The theme song from Law & Order began to play and Samuel glanced down as he fished his phone out of a pocket. He knew without looking at the screen it was his lawyer, Charles Montague. “Yes?” He said once the call connected and he’d brought the phone to his ear.
“Samuel,” his lawyer returned in greeting, voice sounding like he smoked two pack of smokes a day when in reality he’d never so much as touched a cigarette. “Are you at the Bolivar?”
“Where else would I be?” Samuel asked in response, voice almost a little bored as he lifted a hand to correct someone who was putting the chairs in the wrong area of the storeroom. They would be the last thing to set up in the ballroom and needed to be at the back.
“Ah, good, good. I need to speak with you — privately — when I arrive.”
This statement picked at Samuel’s curiosity. “What about?” There were a number of things going through his mind as to what the nature of this meeting could be.
As owner of several luxury hotels and high-end restaurants Samuel had his fair share of good and bad press. Libel lawsuits had been an issue for about a decade, with people spewing rumours he was part of the criminal underworld that secretly ran the city.
It didn’t matter that he was, technically, not part of the criminal underworld but one of those in charge of it; rumours had to be squashed and his good name kept clean if he wanted to continue doing business in the area.
The cops liked to question him about various crimes that happen, but Charles was on point at running interference and making sure they found nothing they weren’t supposed to.
The lawyer was a shark and that was why Samuel paid his retainer’s fee and more — good legal aid was a must for someone in his position and he wasn’t about to skimp on it either.
“I’ll be there in ten,” Charles told his client before hanging up.
Frowning, Samuel looked at his phone for a second before slipping it back into his pocket.
Sweeping his gaze over the room, he then motioned for one of the more senior staff to come over.
“Yes, sir?” She asked, hands clasps behind her back as she stood in front of him.
“You are Claudia, yes?”
He could see some colour coming into her cheeks and held back a smirk. Learning the names of those who worked for him, on both legal and illegal sides of his businesses was part of the charm he’d cultivated around the Samuel Devreaux the world saw.
“Y-yes, sir, I am.”
“Good. I’m leaving you in charge; please make sure everything is sorted correctly or set up will be a disaster.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you.”
Samuel gave the woman a warm smile as he walked past her and exited the storeroom. It was only once no one was in sight that he let the smile disappear and the more comfortable expression of nonchalance settled in its place.
Though his life was going great by all accounts — his businesses were more than a success and his children were almost all full grown and staying out of trouble, for the most part. Yet he felt empty, like none of it mattered.
Every day he put on a multitude of masks to keep people from knowing he was but a shell of who he’d been. Father, boss, criminal, business owner… the masks he wore were flawless after nearly two decades of wearing them.
Nearly two long, agonizing decades.
Hands now in the pockets of his pants, Samuel waited for the elevator to bring him to his office on the seventh floor.
In truth he had one on the ground floor, used to meet with important people of the outside world, but the seventh floor office was for more… sensitive meetings. Since Charles had specified ‘privately’ it was best to use the office suited for more delicate conversations.
Samuel had only just sat down behind his large oak desk when a knock came at the door. Leaning back in his chair a little, he checked the camera feed that showed him just outside the office doors and noted Charles had arrived earlier than promised.
“Enter,” Samuel called out, leaning his elbows on the desk as he interlaced his fingers. Perching his chin just above his hands, he greeted the lawyer with a nod when he entered the office.
Charles Montague was in his mid forties, relatively short for a man and a bit on the portly side. His hair had gone grey at the ripe age of nineteen and he kept it cut relatively short. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice,” the lawyer said to his client as he took a seat opposite Samuel.
“What’s this about, Charles? I have a lot going on at the moment.”
“I understand, Samuel,” Charles replied as he took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the sweat that had accumulated around his neck. The two men had been on first name basis for years now, their relationship almost in the realm of friendship instead of professional though neither would say as much out loud. “This couldn’t wait.”
A minute of silence stretched between the men before Samuel raised his eyebrows. “Well?” He noted that his lawyer looked uncomfortable, almost uneasy about whatever he’d wanted to talk about.
“I’m not sure how to say this, so I will just say it,” Charles finally sighed as he set his briefcase on his lap, pulling out two manila folders before setting it beside his chair. “A month ago they found some unidentified remains and they’ve finally identified them as belonging to Annie Devreaux.”
As Charles spoke, he placed the first folder on Samuel’s desk, but his client had frozen in place at the mention of his missing wife.
Seventeen years ago she had vanished without a trace. They’d only just been blessed with their third son when it happened. Samuel had pulled everyone in, using every last connection he’d cultivated over the years — and even had the police investigate it as well — only to come up with nothing to show for it.
The woman had disappeared off the face of the Earth.
There was plenty of gossip saying she’d run away or had been murdered by her husband since rumours of Samuel’s dealings in the criminal underworld became rampant in the years following her disappearance but no-one could prove it one way or another. The case had been cold for years, though Samuel always had people working it.
Annie had been his entire world and he still loved her more than he could ever put into words. Her disappearance had broken him, leaving only a shell of who he’d been before.
Their three boys were left without a mother or answers to where she went, and he had struggled raising them how Annie would have wanted.
Now, after all these years, hearing that her remains had been found — that she was dead — was bittersweet.
It gave Samuel closure on her whereabouts, though little else. Had she vanished because she died? Or did that happen later?
