TWISTED FATE
PROLOGUE
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"If you can't get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you'd best teach it to dance."
— George Bernard Shaw
GAIA
📍Beverly Hills, California
Yoga and meditation. Wasn’t that the answer to inner peace? Shutting off your mind and relaxing within the depths of nothingness but what do you do when your mind can’t keep shut? When words like murder, drugs and human trafficking invade your privacy like tiny fruit flies or annoying ex boyfriends.
Gaia stepped out of the shower, picked out a loose pale blue maxi and slipped it over her wet skin. Today she looked older than 26. Her beautiful black hair cascaded past her shoulders, her deep blue eyes seemed dull and the freckles under her eyes for the first time aged her. She could still smell his cologne on her skin and it disgusted her. Love didn’t steal from you and Love certainly wasn’t a killer.
Picking up her set of business cards, she dialed the number she was looking for and within seconds there was an answer.
“Hello I’d like to make an appointment with Ivy Gilbert please.” Gaia asked.
“I’m sorry to inform you Ms. but Ivy no longer works as our private investigator.” Dead end.
“Do you know where she’s working now? Perhaps you could let her know that this is Gaia from Coast International?” Gaia continued to push.
“She’s a freelancer now but I can fax over her latest contact details just for you Ms. Chareon.”
“Thank you. I’d really appreciate that.”
Gaia sounded delusional. She didn’t know where to start. She wasn’t a criminal nor did she know how to deal with one. She thought about her company and the domino effect of destruction it would face if word got out. Ian Reynolds, husband to Gaia Chareon – murderer. The truth was all she had but this time it wasn’t going to set her free.
FLEUR
📍Chang Mai, Thailand
“I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.” – William Ernest Henley
To have total control is to make a sacrifice that is absolute. In exchange for escaping the wrath of fate, we hold guns to our own heads, ready to kill ourselves from the inside out, over and over again for the endless renewal of absolute control. Oblivious to the very idea that what we have in store for ourselves is even more lethal than what fate intended for us. Eventually coming to the conclusion that fate is our savior and our souls , our worst enemies.
Fleur kept her eyes strictly on the moving fan on the ceiling of her motel room. Her mind spun in sync with it, ignoring the mold in the corners of the ceiling. Her stomach growled angrily and her eyes watered violently, not because she was trying not to cry but because she was staring at the fan with so much concentration, as if the answers she was looking for were somehow ingrained on the wings of the air conditioning.
She hadn’t moved in 15 hours and in that time she had pieced together quite the puzzle . She had checked into a motel known to crack heads. It was too warm in Thailand to go outside. Her fiancé was a cheating son of a bitch. After six weeks in Chang Mai her skin was a dusty shade of gold, her face was glowing and her body, coincidentally from hiking was in better shape than ever. Her fiancé was a cheating son of a bitch. She was Fleur Du Costa. She graduated from Stanford University and came first in her class. In the space of two years she worked for six of the biggest tech companies in the world. Last year, she had inherited 500 million dollars. She was 23 years old. Her fiancé was a cheating son of a bitch. On the low she was furious. Knowing the only thing she couldn’t control was the actions of the people around her.
In a moment of haste, Fleur grabbed her half filled rucksack and left the motel. Stepping outside into the unbearable heat, she wasted no time in finding a cab. “The airport please.” She said as she handed the Indian cab driver a hand full of notes. Home time was long overdue.
IVY
📍Manhattan, New York
They say when you find solitude within yourself you find happiness, and those who find their happiness in human beings are condemned to a life long battle for which pain is accepted as a constant.
Kicking her feet off of her glass coffee table, Ivy stared inquisitively at two invitations. The first was for a charity tech Gala in San Francisco to mingle with notorious exploiters who for one night hid behind their charitable foundations. The second was for a vegan conference in Los Angeles to witness the Hail Mary efforts of those trying to better a doomed and already damned world. Ivy smirked at the face of irony and for a split second, thought of her old life as a private investigator. She remembered the day Pablo Belsito offered her her first job. She remembered the day she walked out of her Parent’s six-story home in Pasadena, California. She remembered the death of her little sister. How were her Parents today? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. The past was in the past and Ivy was determined to do anything to keep it there.
Ivy Gilbert was now a miserable corporate informant. Selling privileged information to competitive corporations was the name of the game; except it wasn’t a game she wanted to play. Her patience for petty borderline crime was running out but at least she was safe. At least at this job, nobody had tried to kidnap her. Nobody wanted her dead because nobody knew who she was.
At 28 years old she wanted out, but the idea of an ordinary life terrified her. She wasn’t built for frolicking around grocery stores and coffee shops. She wasn’t built for lazy Sundays and walks in the park. Her previous thoughts of leaving America for good were merely laughable. Ivy gilbert craved a dangerous kind of adrenaline rush and sipping wine on a perfectly painted white boat in the middle of the French Riviera wasn’t going to cut it.
A knock on her front door pushed Ivy out of her thoughts.
No one usually came looking for her at her New York apartment.
When she opened the door, she found a large man of 6 foot 5 inches standing on her doorstep.
“Hi sir, is there something I can help you with?” she said, smiling politely.
“Gaia Charoen from Coast International is requesting that you sign this Non disclosure before I give this package to you.”
“I don’t sign non disclosures.” Ivy retaliated, still smiling. Who was Gaia Charoen? What was Coast International? How did she find this address and why was she demanding her signature on a non-disclosure?
“After you sign the non disclosure, an advance payment of 200, 000 dollars will be transferred into your account immediately.”
Now he really had her. Her ears perked up a little. What kind of client put up a 200,000-dollar advancement before meeting face to face? A fool or a criminal?
“So she wants me to do some PI for her. What did she do, kill someone?” Ivy joked as she signed the non-disclosure.
The bald old man said nothing.
"The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isn't one."
― Margaret Atwood
GAIA
📍Beverly Hills, California
Till death do us part
“Have you ever thought of adding some colour to this room? Everything is white, some pastel colours wouldn’t hurt.” Gaia smiled, looking up at the ceiling of an office that belonged to a Dr. Caroline Harper.
“Tell me about the first heart you broke.” Dr. Harper asked. She was wearing beige work pants, a white blouse and a navy cardigan. Her hair loosely framed her face and her expression held a gentle smile.
Gaia laughed nervously. For the first time in her years of committing to therapy, she had nothing to say. Therapy for her was usually food for the soul but today the recipe was tasteless. Today there was a higher dosage of personal than even she could handle. Today Gaia Charoen had a secret to keep.
Unlocking the safe in her home office, Gaia had pulled out two things; a brown envelope and a gun. Her husband had been asleep, snoring quietly on the far end of the bed when she flipped the switch on the lamp. He squirmed, lazily opened one eye, and moved to turn to the other side of the bed when he noticed the gun. Her eyes were steely and cold, her mouth quivered but her voice was hard. Why was his wife holding a gun to his head in his own God damn bed at four in the morning? He knew Gaia well, they had been married for three years. She wouldn’t do something like this - not even if she found out. She loved him and that had to be enough. He was the perfect trophy husband and she was the perfect wife.
His eyes fell onto the brown envelope. Cool and calm Gaia Charoen was not who she said she was. Tonight she wasn’t there to soothe anyone, tonight she wasn’t anybody’s therapist. Tonight she was ready to kill.
“Baby - “ he started.
“Shut up.” Gaia whispered.
“I am giving you ten seconds to walk yourself right out of my house.” she continued, enunciating every word.
She watched him as he got out of their bed, as he walked in the direction of their joint closet, as he picked up a large suitcase that Gaia had barely noticed before. The bastard was already packed.
“Gaia?” Dr Harper asked, seeming concerned.
“Okay - the first heart I broke.” Gaia said snapping back to the reality of the session.
She laughed generously and continued. “That would have been my Father’s. At 19 years old, I had just gotten my acceptance letter to Harvard Business School and I declined the offer because I didn’t want to go to college. That broke my Mother’s heart too. They were two average people who lived a comfortable but unsatisfying life. My Father being a tax consultant and my Mum a lecturer at a local community college in Rhode Island. I remember how hard they both worked to save up for my college tuition so I could one day become a silicon Valley girl.” Another chuckle.
"That was the dream you know, to be America’s leading female entrepreneur and it was a great dream. I mean, here I am today. I did it. I created Coast International and it is worth one billion dollars. What more could they have asked for?”
"What does your company do?” Dr. Harper pressed.
“We dilute the gene pool of genetic murderers. We run tests on potential candidates, starting off with high security prisons across the country but now we work exclusively with some very important corporate officials, politicians, retired CIA and NSA agents and we give them our cure in the hopes that they will not kill again. They usually don’t because we have a 95% success rate."
"That’s quite impressive for a 26 year old woman. Do you feel pressured to continue to grow your company?"
“Not at all. I’m in business with some very smart people and we’re all very good at what we do. We live for it. I don’t feel like I’m in the stage of my career where I can go wrong. This is the biggest thing we’ve ever done and it has been received so well by the people of America. I can’t go wrong with my career." A pause.
"But husbands, family, friends? I seem to always go wrong with them.” Gaia sighed.
“Why do you feel that’s the case?” Dr Harper pushed as she scribbled a few notes down.
“Well recently I found out my husband betrayed me beyond expectation, and I ended up making a decision that I can never take back." Another pause.
"He stole from me.”
“So you are willing to forgive him?" Dr. Harper asked.
Gaia gave a simple answer. “No."
She watched as Dr. Harper made more notes.
“And your friends and acquaintances? Why do you feel like something is wrong in your relationship with them?"
“Well there’s Elsa. She sticks around because I'm paying her son’s college tuition.
And Melissa, we meet for lunch every Thursday and she tells me about the affair she’s having with her neighbour. Her husband is an English professor at UCLA but Melissa prefers the hot producer neighbour who grosses 5 million dollars a year. It’s all very interesting.
I love my friends but do they envy the life I live? Well, Elsa's swapping a loyal husband for the wealthy quarterback. And Melissa spends too much money on things she can’t afford."
A beat.
"But I envy them too you know.” Gaia continued.
“Why do you envy them?” Dr Harper asked.
"Well, I envy Elsa because I find it hard to try new things and could never live recklessly like she does, even though a small part of me wishes to. Melissa on the other hand is completely oblivious to the greater issues of the world and lives in a bubble of pure superficiality, with ultimately no real problems. What’s not to envy?
“What do you mean by that?"
“I mean no matter what you do in life, you can’t control fate. I often think life is a bad investment.” Gaia chuckled.
"The sum of your good deeds may never equal the sum of good you may get back in return.
My conclusion is, in life you should expect nothing from anyone because the truth is, people are born experts at only two things - betrayal and revenge."
***
Gaia walked out of her therapy session feeling drained. She hated being muffled. She hated not being able to speak freely. She wanted to talk about how her husband was a charming, sweet like honey, sociopathic gun man. She wanted to talk about how he was working for some of the most notorious drug lords in America. How after several showers she still felt dirty, how everything she believed in was now unclear. Did she do the right thing in not involving the police? Of course. She couldn’t put her company in jeopardy, she couldn’t let her team down. She couldn’t allow twenty four of the richest investors walk out of the door. She couldn’t fail at the one thing she was good at.
Picking up her phone from the passenger seat of her car, she emailed Ivy Gilbert to confirm her attendance at tonight’s conference. She was the only one who could possibly help.
Gaia Charoen was not going to let any more innocent lives go to waste because of an amoral son of a bitch. Gaia Charoen was taking matters into her own hands. Gaia Charoen was either going to cure Ian Reynolds or she was going to kill him.
"If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it running its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do - the only thing - is run."
― Lauren Oliver
IVY
📍San Francisco Interntionl Airport
Return of the past
Alec Haywood strolled into the business lounge of the San Francisco International Airport with nothing on his mind. He was a successful defence lawyer with his own private practice at just 34 years old. Business was booming and clients were being sent home happy. The firm had finally started making enough money to hire another ex corporate associate, making them a team of seven. Alec had managed to find the time to enjoy a good breakfast of some freshly picked fruit earlier in the morning. His pharmaceutical case was getting easier to win by the day, and he was four hours early for his flight to Los Angeles. Taking a seat by the large bay window, he observed the taking off of an American Airlines plane before whipping out his iPad. Reading the Financial Times was a morning ritual for every young lawyer who wanted to play ball. It was often how they found the cases they could take on and win, and the cases they knew to stay away from.
As Alec was about to get started on his reading, he noticed a young woman of about 28 years old walk in. She had thick sandy brown hair in loose curls that framed her petite face, caramel skin, plump sensual lips and brown eyes. She sashayed over to the seat on the opposite end of the room in a tight black pencil skirt, a loose blouse and high heels. Alec Haywood was in love.
Ivy looked at the time on her iPhone. It was 10:45AM and her flight was due to leave in one hour. Of course, San Francisco was a bore. Nothing but fake smiles and polite hellos at the charity gala she did not enjoy. She was glad it was her last one. Sighing, she took a seat at the breakfast bar in the business lounge and ordered a plate of fruit. It had been a long night. The afterparty of the gala had been in a private residence of a prominent tech guy. She couldn’t remember what he said he'd invented but she sure did remember the colour of his underwear: a tacky red that made Ivy ask herself why. Why did she always pick the egotistical losers? Of course she left without saying so much as a goodbye, went back to her hotel room, showered, got dressed and headed straight to the airport.
She whipped out the brown envelope she had received from Gaia Charoen a week ago. Inside contained a personalised request of her presence at the International Vegan conference tonight and surely enough it was sponsored by Coast International. That was two she had received within the week.
There was one thing that puzzled Ivy from start to finish. There was nothing else in the envelope, which meant she had just been paid 200,000 dollars to attend a conference. What was she getting herself into?
There was no light but with her bare feet she felt cold hard pressed mud. Her hands and feet were bound with copper fence wires. Her hair had been cut short and her original clothes taken away. A blindfold covered her eyes. She was the only one who knew their secret and she was going to die because of it.
She was going to die because she refused to surrender to these sons of bitches. She didn’t blame them though. They were lousy low lives who were being paid very well to hold her captive. They didn’t have any authority over her so why would she tell them a God damn thing? Ivy Gilbert answered to no one.
“You’re going to tell us what the code is if you value your sister’s life. We know you were the one person he told before the bastard committed suicide.”
That’s when they had her. How did they know she had a sister? How did they know who her family were? She was endlessly careful with her identity, never revealing it to anyone. No. Her parents had been very careful people. Her Mother had to have known she was missing by now. She had to have known something was up and with that she would have taken extra precautions in keeping Sasha safe. She was 15 years old for God’s sake.
Her thoughts moved in and out of her mind quickly but not quick enough. One of the men had walked over and taken off her blindfold. She refused to open her eyes regardless, she refused to speak, confident in the fact that her family was safe. She knew what the code was for. Her Father had shot himself in the head to protect it. He referred to it as ‘the hack of the New World Order.’. It allowed America’s biggest gangsters to funnel money from corporations all over the world without a trace. And what would the money be used for? Human trafficking, cocaine imports, prostitution. A hard slap on her right cheek brought her back to life, her eyes opened unwillingly and what she saw was something she could never unsee.
Ivy's heart was racing but she remained frozen in her seat. She lifted her fork gingerly and took a bite of a strawberry. Her appetite had diminished. Her forehead beaded with sweat and her mouth was dry. Ivy was completely unaware of her surroundings until she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Can I help you sir?” she said returning to her charming self.
He was tall. He had jet black hair, a jawline that could cut ice, sharp blue eyes and a confident smile. He was a vision.
“Actually you can.” His voice was deep and his eyes, were completely fixated on her.
Relaxing back into herself, Ivy locked up the past for the upteenth time. What did this schmuck want? Didn’t he notice that this was bad timing?
“How do I get an invite to one of those?” he asked with a disarming smile.
Ivy stared down at her invite to the Vegan conference.
“You don’t. It’s a private event but I’d be happy to give you the sponsor’s contact number if you’d like.” Ivy joked.
“And there I was expecting you to bring me as your plus one.” He played along.
Ivy laughed generously.
“What would be the challenge in that? I’ll tell you what. My flight to Los Angeles has just been called for boarding and the event is tonight. If you can get yourself in, I’ll save you a seat right beside me Mr -."
“Alec Haywood. It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. - ” he said holding out his business card.
“Gilbert. The pleasure is mine.” Ivy smiled brightly as she got up to board her flight, her food untouched, her dark memories left behind with the tall handsome stranger standing in her shadow.
She was grateful to Alec Haywood and he would never know it. He had taken her mind out of the dark hole she was quickly descending into. Who knew it would be Gaia Charoen, a woman she had never met, to open it up again?
Ivy was now determined more than ever to find out who this woman was and what exactly it was she wanted.
“The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.”
― William Shakespeare
The Merchant of Venice
FLEUR
📍Calabasas, California
The Heart that keeps on breaking
After a thirteen hour flight from Hong Kong to Los Angeles Fleur felt defeated. She wasn’t often a complainer but today her shoulders felt heavy, her eyes were droopy and she smelled of stale sweat. Of course all of her problems would have been solved with a business class ticket but what a waste of money that would have been! To make things worse she found herself in an Uber with a middle aged driver hitting on her. She nodded and smiled politely at his lame jokes and hasty compliments but her mind kept roaming back to Thailand. Seventy two hours ago she was engaged. Fleur DuCosta knew who she was and knew exactly what she wanted. Most of the time. His words were as refreshing as soaking in a bath of iced water.
72 hours ago, Thailand
“Her name is Vanessa."
How noble of you to own up to your mistakes.
“I never wanted to hurt you. I’ll always love you but Vanessa and I share this connection - I can’t explain it but I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before."
Oh damn you to hell. You found someone who wants kids and a white picket fence.
“You work all of the time. I’m ten years older than you and I don’t work half as hard."
Since when did working hard become such a taboo with you?
“You give so much of your time to the environment and saving animal lives but then you work for multi national companies who are set out to ruin everything you stand for. You don’t know what you want in life and that’s okay because you're only 23 years old but -"
“Stop right there Jonathan. You do not get to invalidate my existence. I didn’t ask for your excuses.” Fleur retaliated as she raised her hand.
“Vanessa validates you. I don’t need anyone to validate me or make me feel like I’m worthy. I am not looking for another half. I am not looking for a soul mate. I am not looking for you to make me complete.
Whatever you choose to do with your life is at the end of the day your choice. If Vanessa makes you feel whole, then I’m genuinely happy for you but get this, I don’t need you to make me whole. I’m not broken.
I don’t need you to be Prince Charming. I am not a damsel in distress. I never was, and you knew that from the very start. If that bothered you then I’m sorry for you but you don’t get to stand here and depreciate me.
You don’t get to do that.
The only thing you get to do is walk out of here with your dreams of Vanessa and a white picket fence in tact. You don’t get to destroy me."
***
“It’s a nice neighbourhood out here.” The driver said sweat beading down his forehead.
“It’s beautiful.” Fleur replied passively as she stared out of the window at the rows of flower bushes lined around each house.
“This is my stop. I’ll hop out here.” She said as the driver pulled slowly up to a curb.
Carrying her rucksack out of the back seat, she walked quickly towards her family home. It was a ten minute walk that felt like twenty. Their home was hidden in a secluded area with high steel gates taking the roof out of view.
Beyond the exterior of the black gates consisted an eight bedroom mansion. Four cars were parked neatly outside of the main garage. Three Rolls Royce Dawns and an Audi R8. The Audi R8 belonged to Fleur, an unwanted twenty first birthday gift from her Father Carlos.
“I know you don’t like expensive cars so I bought you an Audi. I figured it was respectable enough for my baby girl.” he had said in his thick Colombian accent.
Fleur had been embarrassed. Knowing how many lives she could have saved with 200,000 dollars, now wasted on a piece of junk infuriated her, but she respected her Father’s wishes and accepted the car, knowing perfectly well that she would sell it the moment she could.
“Carlos you know I don’t live like this.” she had said in an attempt to scorn him.
“I know I know, you can save the world when I am dead my Princess."
Fleur entered the access code for the front door and stepped into the parlour. The house was peculiarly quiet. She expected the booming voice of her Father’s and the whiny Spanish tongues of her Mother’s, but nothing.
Moments later footsteps followed.
“Oscar?” Fleur called out for her younger brother.
She could hear his feet working their way down to the bottom of the lengthy spiral stairs. He was dressed in a white button down shirt and dark Levi jeans.
“Fleur what are you doing home? I wasn’t expecting you.” he asked gently, a little out of breath.
“Are you kicking me out?” Fleur joked.
“No I’m actually glad you’re here for once. We have a lot to discuss.” he replied sounding much older than a nineteen year old college freshmen.
Fleur sighed. “Oscar is this about your trust fund again? I’ve had the most stressful week and I just can’t think about that right now. 22 isn’t far away, by the time you finish at UCLA you’ll have your half of the money. That’s the deal Mum and Dad made. I can’t legally change that.”
“This might come as a shock to you but we have much bigger fish to fry." Oscar blurted.
"Mum and Dad are in prison."
And reality came swinging back in full force. In that moment, Fleur swallowed more than her breath. Carlos and Natalia Moreno were America’s biggest money launderers. They were connected to every major drug lord across all 52 states, as well as the biggest players in Mexico and Columbia. They were smart, using investment companies and the stock exchange to legitimise the dirty cash of the world’s most powerful drug lords. But here was the catch they had retired five years ago, with the exception of favours here and there for some close family friends but they had made sure to seal all loose ends.
"What happened?” Fleur asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“They started a new operation. They tried to move into Brazil but they got caught.” Oscar replied, deep frowns visible on his forehead.
“Caught how?” Fleur pressed.
“There was a mole. Uncle Sebastian. There was a fight over money and he snitched on the whole operation."
It had been a long time coming. Fleur was pissed off. She had begged them to retire, warned them to not make this deal but her parents were more attracted to danger than they were to each other.
“When were they arrested?” Fleur asked as she grabbed her car keys from a glass bowl.
“Two weeks ago. Of course nothing can happen to your trust fund because they’re in our names, not theirs. You’re my guardian so I’m in the clear too."
“Mum and Dad are rotting in a prison cell and all you can tell me is that you’re glad we still have our money?” Fleur asked through clenched teeth.
“Fleur I’m making sense here."
“No you’re not!” she screamed.
“Yes I am. We have unlimited resources to fight both their cases. Their lives are now in our hands and we have to do everything we can to get them out because they’re not going to take the immunity deal.” he shouted, seething with anger.
Ah ha! So there was an immunity deal. That was what this was all about. The FBI weren’t out for Carlos and Natalia Manero. They were out to catch the big fish - drug lords and co.
Fleur sighed. Her parents were exactly the kind of people to refuse an immunity deal. Snitching on their friends and family was just not what they did.
“I’m going to go see them.” Fleur said as she walked out of the house.
“I’m coming with you.” her brother shouted after her.
“No. This shouldn’t be your burden Oscar. You have midterms coming up and you’ve dealt with enough while I was gone. Let me do this okay?” she said soothingly.
Her brother nodded as she ran towards her Audi R8 and sped out of the courtyard in full speed.