Trying To Heal

Chapter Fourty-Five

Derek

When I finished my education, I signed the contracts to claim the Tate Manor as mine. I retired the Staff for them to relax, as they worked too much. Tanner brought a house in Oxford, therefore he comes to the Tate Manor for Christmas, Easter and the summer holidays.

There is something so peaceful about living alone. I woke up at seven, went to the gym, had breakfast, read books, meditate, watch shows and movies, and sleep. At first, it was a brilliant routine, but then I grew bored, so I travelled the world. Ever since Larry Cox died, it ruined me, and Luke forced me to leave the Azrael to recover. He removed my title as an Azrael soldier and made me an Azrael Associate — meaning, I rarely get recruited for missions. I cannot go on whatever mission I like. I need his authority. I am just there, like an extra on a film set.

I hate not doing anything. I like to be productive and on my feet. It is a good thing that my apprenticeship program starts this September.

Jason Burke emerges into the kitchen. "Good morning, Sir."

The kettle fizzles steam. "What did I say, Burke?"

My secretary stagnates at my tired reminder, confused for a second. He comprehends his mistake and offers a sheepish grin. "I have some updates, Derek. You are still the number-one trending hashtag on Twitter. Worldwide. I'm afraid you are right. The testimony was less than half a week ago, and there have been an flood of misogynistic, gender-prejudiced content."

I pour the steaming-hot water into two mugs, clouded of green tea packets. What is done, is done. Now, it is up to Judge Vella to ease this tension through her conclusion.

"You gave me authorisation over your socials. I can put a note of you addressing the damage."

"Will that stop the misogyny?"

"Certainly. People may think they know who you are, and how you are like, until you do something that surprises them. This is it."

Handing a mug to my secretary, he appears surprised at the hospitality. From what he has told me, he worked for other celebrities — much who are responsible in the sex ring. Jason Burke is the reason why we managed to encage various suspects in these past five months. We have advised him to pursue a normal life. He prefers to have a job like this. It gives him adrenaline.

"I received a word from General Akamai earlier this morning. Nova Collins's husband and son are dead."

My mug freezes mid-way to my lips. The heat shrills my philtrum. "What?"

"Josiah Collins killed his son, and himself shortly after."

I place the mug on the island. "But ... why? The son is faultless."

"A police department in Paris are looking into it, as well as the Azrael. It is assumed that Josiah Collins became paranoid, and decided to not only end his life but his son's as a means of psychosis, delusions, stress, and obsession."

I force a long, heedful gulp of the lava-hot tea. I used to cystic suffer acne in my mid-teens. The doctors prescribed me accutane, and for years no pimple dared to rise. But since the Everston Ball, a few stresses decided to appear. I had my vials tested. Turns out, regardless of the callisthenics routine, my diet has been unbalanced for a while. Alongside that, I have been consuming coffee like water. I started to drink green tea to reduce the inflammation. My skin is feeling better.

Burke places the mug down; withdraws his tablet tucked under his arm. "Kazem confirmed that you can afford to tame the cost of living crisis."

Finally, some good news.