BLIND EYE

The Perfect Family

Prologue:

Skyler Cordero

****

   'Oh-God...'

   TEN-past-eleven. My husband's dinner was cooling on the dining table where I sat, feeling uneasy. Purple balloons deflated everywhere, as the night dragged into a lugubrious slumber.

   'Mommy', Mori, my baby girl pulled me, 'mommy, are you okay?'

   'Yes, little rose?' I uttered, nervously. Anxiety consumed my rationality. He was meant to be home by five. As a supervisor in Chicago's top broker firm, lawyers often caught my husband venturing beyond the borderlines of business when luring female investors; it was his great flaw.

   'Where's daddy?' My baby girl asked.

   'I... don't know', but something was wrong...

   Eleven years ago, I found that my foster brother loathed the same broker firm, because of its roots with funding a sick government-agenda, one that made motherless children like us the experiments of socio-economic theories. My foster brother wanted revenge on anything to do with the agenda, including the dissolution of my husbands' firm. The worst part; he wanted my help -

   'I said are you okay?' Mori's question was a blur added to the whirlwind of my distractions,

   'Yes! I -'

   'Think dad's home', my son Malachi whispered, reserved by the window. For his age, the boy was perceptive. My perfect family, the lifestyle I chose to pursue after escaping a horror-shadowed foster home, was because I had no family, no roots, no parents; this part, was my happy future...

   THUD!

   'Oh', I jumped as the front door banged, shaking the framed photographs on the wall, 'God'.

   'Yep. That's him', Malachi confirmed. Before my husband could get close enough, Malachi scurried upstairs.

   'Mommy?' Mori moaned. To look occupied, I pretended to untangle her locked curls, resembling my African curls. Her hair was caught into two buns, and her toffee skin like mine.

   'Sky - ' Into my shaking arms, I carried Mori, 'Sky!' he grunted my name.

   'Nigel, keep your voice down', I muttered.

   'Sky -'

   'Yes? What? I'm taking Mori upstairs. She's glad you missed out on her fourth birthday -'

   'Do you know I was fired today?'

   'Sorry to hear'.

   'No -' he raged. SLAM went his palm into the deco hall walls. With dark Brazilian hair permed and combed back, neat like his moustache, he resembled the panache of Terrance Howard. His skin was darker than mine. As delicately as he moved, his soft hair bounced along with him, 'what did you do?'

   'What-what-do-you-mean -'

   'I told you not to speak to that -' he paused, yanking Mori out of my arms, 'Mori, go upstairs'.

   'Yes daddy', she humbly submitted, scurrying her little black butt upstairs. Malachi peered down from the balcony, eyes embedded like a curious hawk.

   'I told you not to speak to that light-skinned, slinky bitch! She came here?' Nigel shouted, referring to a lawyer.

   'I was subpoenaed when you were out the city -'