White Lies and Sweet Compromise( 𝐁𝐖𝐖𝐌💕)

Chapter 49

Deacon Ffrench Snr country house residence.

Deacon Ffrench Snr rose from the chair behind the desk where he had a few minutes ago sat observing the familiar surroundings of the country house he now called home. He now considers himself to be a type of recluse but he was still far away from getting to the solitary life he desires because of his namesake of a son.

He could still see the image of Elizabeth on the video that was emailed to him. His face twisted in a scornful scowl as the image replayed in his mind. He made to turn away from the window in front of which he now stood but his withered face stared back at him.

In the polished glass pane his bitter eyes glowered at him, he felt old and encumbered by the life he fought so hard for. He sighed then turned away from his reflection and walked back to the desk where he closed the video on the computer and then reached for the folder sitting beside it.

There on white pristine paper was everything he needed to know about Wendy Preston. He was sure surprised that she was the heir to a vast family business that would merge well with his enterprise. She fitted into his son's life well and it pleased him as he was now up to terms with why  Deacon and Kylie could not be together.

With Kylie's aversion to the opposite sex, he knew he would be pushing together oil and water. At one point it would not have mattered to him as long as he got his way, but now that he was a few months closer to death he got a chance to reflect on what truly mattered to him and the many persons he destroyed for his one true love.

He was now the epitome of regrets and he was more miserable than he had ever been. He has reached a point in his life where he was made to face all his callously selfish deeds. He had to at least mend one bridge he had broken and that is making amends for not being a father to Deacon.

He looked at the family photo of the Preston family. The love that radiated from the smiling trio pained his regretful heart, it was so obvious it seemed he could take it from off their smiling faces. The love there was not bought or manipulated to serve a selfish purpose.

He had no excuse for his actions when it came to the lack of him and Deacon bonding as a father and son. He was driven by the desire to forever keep his Industry alive, to see it pass down to generations to come but along the way, he became biased and selfish.

The pauper that had stowed away on a ship from his poverty life in post-war France at fourteen and fought tooth and nail to survive in the new alien world that was bustling with power seemed like a distant dream. It strove his desire to have a piece of this place, he vowed never to go back to being a wretched nobody scavenging and doing menial labour to survive.

Even though he had made it past the very thing he vowed to do it had created in him a dismal person who cared more for his vow of survival.

Even when he had risen ten times higher the drive still festered and evolved into a malignant greed to keep on creating until he got older and knew his time was near and then it mutated into a black heartless desire to ensure Deacon carried on his legacy; a legacy of mindless hunger for survival that he had already fed.

His desire had become an addiction and as life sped away his fix for his addiction became him living the life he made for himself through Deacon. In this world that he had conquered through perseverance, and a few undignified means mixed with a steel wit he became nothing but a mindless pursuer fueled by a dark force that had him focusing on the wrong legacy.

He felt a pain in his heart that surpassed that of the one he felt when he suffered a heart attack a few days ago, this was the ache of bitter regret. The realization that he made himself be who he wanted yet lost himself in the process.

He was no longer the lanky, scared and unsure stowaway that was filled with awe and fascination as he looked at the beautiful unblemished figure of the Statue of Liberty that drove hope into his hunger-ravished body and fueled the desire that crippled his chance to become a better man than he now was.

He had lost the young lad who had cried his soul out as he left his family behind. The love and care of his own family had sacrificed so much to see that he made it out of the war-torn devastation that plagued their existence and died with him and in its place grew a young man who forged himself into Deacon Ffrench. He wondered if he had remained, Francois Lavigne, would he have made a better life for his son and given him the love that his own father Diacne Lavigne showed him up to the very minute he risked getting him out of the country?

He closed his eyes and let the wave of guilt, despair and regret rain down on him. It was more than he deserved for his terrible actions. He felt tears run down his cheeks as he heard the French ballad his dad used to sing as they worked on their little farm in Étretat and the sound of his mother's laughter filled the sad void of his mind.

A quick rap on the door pulled him back to the present as the sounds of fading laughter, a blurry vision of a mother and son twirling in the sunlight and a strong yet melodious voice slipped away. He looked at the folder closed it and wiped his tear-stained cheeks. The past was gone and he knew this would be the last time he would ever remember his past.

"Come in," he called and took his place behind his desk. "Is it dealt with?"

The tall man dressed in a black suit that fitted to his lean tall frame and had a face that belied a true caring nature stood by the door and looked at the man he had known for almost thirty-five years. They have weathered so many storms together and risen through them all.

As his eyes observed the old man's troubled face intently he found himself thinking of the few times he had seen him with any human concerns other than pride.

The old bastard as he affectionately called him was more animalistic as he was like a prey; a lion on the prowl marking his territory and claiming lives as he went by. He walked further into the office and said.

"Evelyn Denton did not make it, she conveniently died while undergoing surgery as you requested and her video died with her. All that will remain is Elizabeth Cadwell's memories," he said coming to stand by the desk.

"Amir," he said after a while, "there is a letter and parcel in my safe on Deacon's return I need you to give it to him."

"Yes sir," was his only reply as he waited for more instructions holding his emotions in check.

The years with the older man had taught him so much and he had influenced his life in so many ways. He had many secrets and deeds that like the old man he would be taking to his grave but unlike him, he vowed never to go with a broken heart.

He walked closer to the desk and said quietly, "Goodbye Francios Lavigne, it was well knowing you, old friend."

The old man nodded and watched as the scarred-faced man turned on his heels and left the office feeling a sense of humour that a weathered hitman would be the one to actually care when he parted. He knew all too well the past they shared would die with the stoic Amir Freedman.

"Goodbye old friend," he murmured as took the portfolio from the table and turned to the section on Evelyn.

He had a lot of souls to see in hell.

𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷

Hey friends 🙂

Some choices we make will never be erased, they span the depths of time and manufacture circumstances with bitter endings. Deacon's Ffrench got a second chance but selfish desire still won leaving him the loser.

Will Lionel too end up on the losing end with Leela?

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