Little Annotations | Tristan Dugray

chapter thirty five

The alleged "heiress" of Clairmont corp had come of age. Media outlets, news stations, and rivaling companies all flew into Connecticut that night in hopes of getting a meeting with the prospective CEO— rivaling companies including David Archduke and his family. The Chilton graduation party was the red carpet event of the summer, with the entire Yale Graduate Clubhouse rented out just for the students.

Of course, it was no mundane feat, allowing the Archdukes to come parading the halls of a Clairmont graduation party, given their history. There was always more when it came to the Clairmonts, it was never one simple thing. There was always an ulterior motive, sometimes, there were even ulterior motives hidden in ulterior motives.

The task itself was meticulous: make sure that David Archduke got to the party last so his car would be the furthest from everything. The process would start slow, the engine would slowly start to overheat, and then, David and his family would have to leave early only to be met with their demise. There was no way that anyone could survive it. At exactly 11:05 the Archduke family would be no more. Everything would go on without a hitch, just as she planned.

"As you all know, I am set to inherit my family's company early tomorrow," Genevieve said, wanting to get the speech over and done with as none of the people in the room even went to Chilton. Old women and men one heartbeat too fast from biting the dust watched in anticipation as they pondered what she was going to do with her shares.

"I am going to be signing the position over to my overqualified brother, Weston Clairmont. Thank you."

Mrs. Clairmont watched as Genevieve signed the contract at the front of the room as she sipped on her eighth glass of wine into the night.

"Big deal," Logan whispered, and Genevieve shook her head and pulled him out of the room.

"I'm free." She exhaled.

"You're free." Logan echoed.

. . .

The party was already overwhelming. Genevieve was feeling the familiar knot in her chest from the constant attention. From taking pictures to posing for the damned Valedictorian portrait, she just wanted- needed a moment alone. The garden was already a no, it was a nice night and the party was just as much outside as it was inside. The only place left was the gazebo in the front yard. She bunched her dress up and walked across the field as the chatter faded. She almost made it to the gate when she heard Tristan running up behind her, engulfing her into a hug from behind.

"Hey angel," He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Where are we going on this fine evening?"

"Hmm," She led him to the center of the field, "We're going dancing,"

The soft music coming from the house could be heard through the open windows, the two fell into a slow waltz under the moonlight.

"I can't wait to make you my wife someday," He murmured into her hair, "I mean, you should marry me right now,"

"Impulsive as always," She said, as he twirled her, "We can't get married yet."

"Genevieve Clairmont-Dugray. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. He said, smirking, "Marry me,"

"Shut up," She scoffed, and he pulled her into him, tracing along the edges of her lips.

"Marry me." He said, "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Maybe later?"

"Marry me."

It happened earlier than it was supposed to.

Genevieve took the most of the blow, with glass shards entirely covering her torso. Her reflexes made her turn around at the last second in an attempt to shield Tristan from the flying pieces of glass and fire. Of course, it didn't help when Tristan, the taller of the two, was hit with yet another flying piece of glass, right next to his heart.

The moment ended with the ghost of an "I love you" on their lips, and the silent chuckle of Genevieve who tried to crawl closer to him, just so she was close enough to hear the final beats of his heart, "Okay. I'll marry you."

The explosion already gained the attention of the entire party who made their way down the stairs of the lavish hall to see the still bodies of the two, fingers intertwined. The piercing cries of the Clairmont and Dugray family were absolutely nothing in comparison to the screams of Delphine and Weston who had to be held back by a pair of random hands.

Mrs. Clairmont didn't know what could have possibly gone wrong. Her entire life, she was a planner, down to the last detail, she knew what she knew, and there was no reason for a miscalculation. She let the crowd go past her as she ran back into the building racing to the far east wing and ripping the door open to the makeshift control center she set up.

"That was very sloppy Penelope."

"What did you do?" She whipped her head over to the corner where two men with glaring eyes stood. David Archduke downed his glass of whiskey and twirled the detonator in his hands.

"Have you met my son?" He motioned to a boy with a buzzcut and gray eyes, her lips quivered at the oil stains on his hand and suit, "He recently graduated from Stanford for engineering."

A sob formed in the back of her throat, but her body didn't allow noise to come out.

"I personally didn't do anything." David patted her head as he pushed past her, "You did this yourself. You killed your daughter and you should be punished for it... but I'll forgive you, just this once because that—." David pointed to the ambulances in the distance, his smile growing as the distance between the ambulance and their bodies got closer, "That's punishment enough."

It would be unfair really if one of them survived and the other didn't. It'd be cruel.

Tristan Dugray and Genevieve Clairmont died within seconds of each other.