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Fausto Redman thought his life was supposed to be easy. Get the girl, get the money, and live the rest of his life in piles of riches. He would be so wealthy that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. With a few kids running around the place, he could hire some help, and he would never have to see them. He knew that he wasn’t the fatherly type, but he needed kids to take care of him when he was older and dying.
When his own father lying on his death bed, sickly and ill for the past three years with a type of cancer that couldn’t be cured, Fausto jumped to the conclusion that his life would be even easier. He could skip the girl and go straight for the money. After having a bit of fun with the mountains of gold left over from a worn-down horse racing business, he could bother to find himself a wife. It wouldn’t be hard, after he made a name for himself with his father’s money.
Well, if it had all gone according to plan. Unfortunately for Fausto, things rarely went according to plan.
Summoned by his father who was not meant to live out the rest of the week—or so the doctors said—he sat in the hospital with his younger brother, Nolan. The younger of the two of them was crying. He had always been closer to their father than Fausto had been. Fausto stood to the side, unsure and wavering. If he wanted to make a good impression, he would go to his father’s side. However, he knew that the will was already written. It didn’t matter what he did so long as his father didn’t get to see his lawyer again.
“My boys,” Reuben croaked. His voice was weak, sounding rather like a dying instrument than a man who had once been incredibly powerful and strong. “I wish only to see the two of you succeed.”
His hand reached up for Nolan, and he snatched it right away, holding it close to his chest.
“We will be as great as you were,” Nolan assured.
Fausto sneered at the sight of his younger brother being so sentimental. Luckily, his father’s blind eyes couldn’t see the horrible expression on his handsome face.
“I know you will,” Reuben whispered. “I want for you two to fix all of the mistakes that I have made in the past. Have children, marry beautiful women, live your lives,” he instructed. Fausto held back a smirk, it wouldn’t be hard for him to live that life. After all, he was the one that the money and racing company were going to be entrusted to. “I have only ever wanted what was best for the two of you,” he groaned.
Nolan nodded. He squeezed their father’s hand, his other reaching out to pet through the sweaty, snowy hairs thrown sparsely atop their father’s head. “We know that,” he said. “We know that you only ever wanted what was best for the two of us. We know that,” he repeated.
Fausto rolled his eyes at the sick display of emotion. On the bedside table next to their father, his will lay, wrapped tightly in a red ribbon with the family seal carved in cooled wax to hold it closed. It was all he wanted. It was the whole reason he had showed up that day.
As if on cue, their father began to reach for the rolled up paper. Neither boy moved to help him, watching in a revered silence. Fausto was at the edge of his seat, waiting with baited breath. Reuben’s shaky, decrepit fingers finally reached the rolled paper, and snatched it from the table with a strange air of grace.
Fausto stood then and only then, and walked over to their father’s bedside. A little smile passed onto Reuben’s lips. He handed the parchment over, and Fausto took it with gentle fingers.
“Are you sure about this?” Fausto asked.
“I know,” Reuben said with a groan, “that these things are supposed to wait until I am dead. In a sense, I am dead now. You boys are all I have left. And the only other things that matter are enclosed in my will. Please do not hate each other over what I have chosen. I know the both of you so well, and I know who needed to receive what.”
A conniving grin spread across Fausto’s lips. The parchment crackled in his hold as he tightened his grip on it. “Of course, Father,” he said.
Nolan was nodding as well. “You know what is best,” he agreed. He glanced over his shoulder at Fausto, only able to catch the last, faint traces of the ugly expression that had been resting there a moment earlier. “We trust you.”
“Of course we do,” Fausto agreed.
“Go and read it, Fausto,” Reuben replied. “I know that you want to.” He sighed, and sank back into his bedding. “I know that it is all you want in this life.”
Fausto held back a smart remark. It was all and more than he could ever want in one thousand lifetimes. He took a respectful leave, and unrolled the document. Most of it was a load of nonsense, things meant for Nolan, or words of how he only tried to do what was right. The only section that caught his eye was the one that began with ‘To Fausto I leave…’
Fausto’s eyes ate up the words hungrily at first, but the last clause made him halt. Anger seared through each and every inch of his being. He had been left all of the wealth of the Redman family, but on one condition. One condition that made his blood boil and his thoughts turn into liquid fire. He had never been angrier in his life, at the old man lying in the bed, or at himself for thinking that it would all fall into place so easily.
If he were to inherit the family riches, he needed to do but one thing.
Marry a woman and have a child with her.
Chapter Two
Lucrecia sat with her only friend in New York City, a harlot named Morgan who was trying to con a few more pennies from passersby and strangers. Lucrecia couldn’t remember for the life of her how she had come across Morgan and ended up her best friend, but it was the greatest thing to ever happen to her. They were in a park, seated on an uncomfortable bench that was nearly soaked with bird droppings. Lucrecia made sure not to lean her back against it, and sat where it was cleanest, but Morgan had no care. For a harlot, she wasn’t the cleanest of people.
Lucrecia could see Morgan’s eyes darting between the men and the women, trying to find a man who was available. The women she only looked at to stew over how envious she was of their good fortune. Lucrecia didn’t blame her; she longed to be the person who could wear clothing like that and not stick out like a sore thumb. Morgan swiped her thumb over her tongue, and turned a page in the newspaper she was reading. A cackle erupted from her throat, drawing the attention of a few onlookers.
“You won’t believe this,” Morgan scoffed, though she bore a large grin. No doubt it was something grim, she was the type of person to take pleasure in a badly written obituary. “I can’t believe some people would actually fall for this load of malarkey,” she muttered. With a flick of the pages to straighten them out, Morgan offered the words for Lucrecia to see.
Lucrecia glanced over at the words, not taking too long to actually read what was being said. She hated the paper that Morgan read, it was all lies and slander.
However, the words that Morgan were pointing to with a painted nail caught her eye in a flash. It was under a section labeled Matrimonial News. The usual was there, the announcement of weddings and of engagement parties. A few hush-hush divorces that might have not even been true.
“What’s so funny?” Lucrecia asked as the scanned the paper.
