A Broken Vow

2

She reached out for the half-filled bottle of whiskey sitting permanently at the side of her big oak stained table. She poured it over ice, lift the glass and took a sniff. Her fourth, this evening. She used to limit herself to five. She doesn't need to do that now but the counting is an old habit she could not get rid of. Johnnie Walker Blue Label on the rocks will always be her favorite. She could definitely afford to have something more expensive now. She can get a Dalmore 25-year-old single malt scotch if she wants. These stuff is sold for $1500 a bottle. She can even go skinny dipping in Hawaii with the world's sexiest super models with a classic daiquiri in one hand, right at this very moment to beat this blistering cold, if she pleases. Hell, she could buy literally anything that she wants.

But Althea Guevarra is a person of habit. She drinks the same whiskey from the same glass at the same hour every night. It would only depend on which office she is in but it would always be behind her desk, facing the wall to ceiling window glass, staring at the skyscrapers beneath her. Her empire has grown immensely just as she has imagined. But it wasn't an easy route. She has worked hard for every single dime and asset that she owns. Both legal and hidden. She owns 50% of the law firm while the other half is distributed to all the lawyer partners scattered in their offices here in Edmonton, in New York and in DC. She owns more than half of all the other companies the Law Firm controls. Lobbying is their specialty. Big defense contractors race against each other to have AG, Partners and Associates on their side. A contract with the firm always guarantees these big companies a piece of the pie. The US Congress military budget.

Rumor has it, that underneath the paper trail, some of these contractor's shares are owned by several off-shore companies scattered all over the Caribbean, Zurich and Hong Kong. These companies are linked to a numbered account owned and operated by no less than Althea Guevarra herself. What a big snake in a big jungle.

With all this wealth, Althea has remained the cheapskate that she is. Prudent with her money. Sensible spender. She would sit down through the whole annual budget meeting and would suggest several cuts here and there.

You can't blame her. Althea Guevarra slept and lived at her pick-up truck parked at the back of her high school. At summer time, she sweat too much, her shirt stuck at her back. One day, she tried to sleep with her windows open, she ended bruised and half-dead. Gang members attacked her and stole all her stuff. She didn't have enough money for hospital so she nursed herself back. Nothing compares to winter though. Her teeth quiver and she fall asleep praying and waiting to be frozen to death. Ms. Helma, her high school principal, was kind enough to let her use the wash room at the gym. But she had to wake up really early and take a bath and do her thing before any student comes in. She never had anyone but her. She only had Jade. The only friend that she had. The only thing that kept her going. Throughout law school. All through life. For better or for worse. For richer and for poorer. How did she ever lose her? Why did she allow everything to happen? How did she let her slip away?

.

.

.

She rattled the ice in her glass. Her thoughts are still on that shabby home along Arce Avenue when the intercom interrupted her from her day dreaming.

"G..." calls batchi. Her executive assistant. Her confidante. The one and only true friend that she has left in this world full of enemies. Aside from batchi, Althea only had one more best friend. But she, too has switched over to the other side.

"what do you have?" she answered.

"Project Hopia." Batchi chuckled. Althea rolled her eyes. She told her several times not to call it that. But Batchi would never miss a golden opportune to rub it in her face that this is a hopeless cause.