His Wet Nurse

Wild card (41)

"Puta!" The woman swore with a distasteful look on her face. "A maid you say,"

"Yes, She's from a small village,"

"And you chose her yourself, Evana?"

Madame Evana bit her chin. "I thought she was the best fit, I was deceived, that wench is the most cunning woman on earth. She's had the master wrapped around her fingers like gum," she seethed.

"When's your surgery?" The other woman asked, seeming to derail from their previous discussion. "Is it in a month?"

"The doctor said I won't be needing any soon, he prescribed good pain relief for the meantime. Thank you, ma'am."

"You're too old for that, you know?... go on, ask for help and I'll give it to you. I know you have nothing left in your bank account since you so foolishly returned every dime my son gave to you."

Madame peeked at her from under her lids, the woman dressed in white Japanese-made apparel with intricate designs around the neck area. She smelt like a bottle of the Louis Vuitton Oud, expensive, and sat poised and authoritative just like her son.

"What had you hoped to achieve by the way? A place by his side as his most trusted adviser? More money and loyalty?...hmm?"

"I wanted none of those at the time, I wanted to discredit that wench, to make him see who the real enemy was but I guess I miscalculated. She's smarter than I give her credit for."

She stood from the tufted gray chaise lounge, her white toe-covering shoe clanging noisily on the floorboard. She seemed to love herself more than anything from the way she gracefully attempted everything. Like they might infect her body if she held the lid of the whisky for more than a second or if the edges of the kitchen aisle dared touch her hip. She was indeed older than Madame but looked younger from years of enjoying the luxurious lifestyle of a Victorian woman. She had but one thing.

"And how is my grandson doing?" She drank from her glass, something she shared with her son, their love for whiskey and cigarettes. "In all this brouhaha?"

"Never been better, he's adjusted so well since his return. And he's growing so fast into an amazingly sweet boy," Madame smiled softly, recalling how baby Sam had held her white streaks of hair in the morning while Lilian dressed him up.

"Is he still keeping his distance from the boy?"

"Of course, he wouldn't even have the time for it if he wanted to,"

"Yet... he has time for his baby's nursemaid," she interjected. "Hmm, sounds unusual. Let's keep it the way it is for now Evana, but as for the wench..." She came forward with a sudden murderous gaze that set Madame jolting herself into a standing position. "I'll have something for you in a day or two, she can't be the stumbling block to the Newman empire. I thought my son was wiser than that," she sighed.

"Yes Mrs. Newman," Madame bowed.

"Ha! You flatter me Evana, you indeed flatter me too much," she muttered. She opened a box of cigar on the glass table and sat across from the Madame to light them up. "Fuck! I forgot my match stick, can you help me get it over there?" She flapped her pointy nails at the kitchen aisle she'd just returned from.

Madame Evana bit her tongue and hesitated for a second before pulling herself up to limp toward the other side of the large house. It was nothing like the Brick mansion where every color was mainly of wood, and the marbles and tiles were ancient like historical architecture. Lady Newman lived in a condo, more like a bachelor's pad, pristine white, and a three-hour drive from the city where her son lived.

She no longer went by the surname Newman; rather she'd managed to fake an identity as Sarah Lockwood, a mere laundry store owner who left her business in charge of her much younger colleagues and decided to live on passive income. She lived alone with her dog Busty, it was a very humongous ugly-looking breed that leaked spit from either side of its mouth.

Aside from busty and her mere ten thousand dollars worth of monthly passive income, Sarah Lockwood—Lady Newman as she secretly desired to be called had nothing to her name. The condo, those Jimmy Cho shoes, branded handbags, stacks of expensive wine and cigars, and her wardrobe of trousseaus were all earned from the influence of the family name she once belonged in, a past glory that she'd still held onto like a lifeline.

"Your knee is worsening, I don't think you're useful to me this way. When Kendrick sends me my next check I'll give you something for the surgery." She smiled and took the lighter from Madame.

"You don't have to, I'm taking enough drugs for the pain and I do not need my legs to fight I just need information that's all,"

Sarah made a face, a mockery face. "No, no I want to, you've been helpful to my family and especially to me and I have to repay you in some way. I will repay you, I don't like being indebted to people."

Madame shifted forward in her seat and peered forwardly at the woman before her. "Then help me get rid of her, I promise this one last time,"

She curved a brow. "You mean like I did with Adelaide Stone?"
Madame nodded. A long pause ensued before a cackle of laughter erupted from Sarah who bawled her eyes out until the walls echoed her voice.

"Look at your face Evana, that poor girl must've given you the scare, huh?" She readjusted herself. "Well, let me tell you something, there's no obstacle too smart or too strong for me to overcome. Anything standing in the way of me getting back with my family...I'll crush!"

When Madame rode home that evening, she was in a much chirpier mood than before. Her fingers drummed on the strong leather seats at the back of her car in relief as she thought of more ideas to add to the juicy plan she had carefully crafted with Sarah. At least they had a viable plan, executing it would be another problem but the Madame was certain she'd find a way. If she'd found a way with her boss Theodore, with Adelaide Stone then she'd find a way with Jema Author.

It was night when Madame arrived home, the long drive didn't do mercy to her knee pain. She'd resorted to aiding her steps with a walking stick as the driver helped her out of the car. "Thank you, Moses, you've been of great service to me and the master. I'll surely put in a word or two for you," she smiled at the stupefied young man who helped her into the foyer, scoffing at how gullible enough he was to believe he'd be anything more than a driver to Theodore.

In many ways, she tried to keep the employees obedient and happy and crumb-like gratitudes like that one went a long way. If only she'd done that with Jema, maybe the woman wouldn't have gone for the big kill.

"Nurse Lilian, are you still here?" Her surprised tone sang through the room. She stood below the flight of stairs wondering how she'd make it up to the next floor to check on the baby and see if Jema had finally realized what she was really meant to focus on when she met Lilian with a bottle of baby milk and a tired look.

"I got called back in, Jema had to return home for an urgent cause."

A brow flicked and then the other joined. "Hmmm, how long will she be?"

Lilian shrugged. "I don't know, honestly, but I wish she'd just come home soon. Baby Sam..." Lilian choked on her tears, a hand flew to her lips to mute out the sound of her croaked cry but the tears betrayed her. "I'm exhausted, simply tired of carrying him while on my feet till he sleeps. And his cries... oh heavens!" She wiped repeatedly at her reddened eyes. "That's not actually my problem, I'm just tired of everything. My life sucks, nobody seems to like me anyway because I suck at keeping good people around me. That's why Imani left...he broke up with me," she wailed and fell to the floor in whimpers. "I can't get over him, or how I hate being a nurse who has no time for her boyfriend and now I-I have to take care of a six-month-old who thinks the world revolves around him!!"

Madame didn't see that coming.
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What a chapter...