DANGEROUS THREASTS

"I am sorry, my dear. I am so weary of this bed already so let's get this over and done with. Tell them I am ready," he says, and he indeed looks tired.


I nod my head. "Okay. I will let Lemuel know. I will be back," I say.

I fling to leave, but he still clasps my hand captive in his. Actually, they are both of them because, ostensibly, Damian is caging the other one in his too. I didn't even realize he hadn't let go of me all this time. I glance between them, signaling that I can't leave my hands with them. Damian lets go, and my father pats the one he is holding, gives it a peck, and whispers... "I love you, my dear. Whatever happens, be brave, and always know that you mean the world to me!"

Meant-past tense. Where will he be?


A cold chill tickles! The mood feels so threatening all of a sudden! I feel a sudden surge of tension that threatens to paralyze my spine! I am feeling my hand tremble in his hold, and my legs weakening.

I should be strong!


Nothing will happen. Papa is just terrified, and I understand him. This isn't easy for anyone. It can't be easy for anyone. I should be strong for him. For both of us. Maybe that will give him strength and assurance that everything will be alright—he will be alright.

I place my hand on top of his and exhort him to smile!

"Of course, I know I mean the world to you. I am your sole, remember? That is why I am sure you can't leave me all alone. You are overcoming this for you and me, Dad. I know you are strong enough to beat this."

"But what if my time is up, dear? You can accept that, right?"

Curse that!

"No!" Come on now! Why is he entertaining these sentiments? "You have got a whole lot of accomplishments to do, father. Your empire, and myself. I need you, Papa. So don't even dream of leaving me because I will die with you."

"Come on, my child! You..."

"That is enough, Dad! You are not going anywhere, and that is the end of this discussion! I will go get the doctor." I snatch my hand slowly from his, albeit with his gamble to keep it.

He is being so pessimistic for nothing! Millions of people have gone through this and survived. What makes him think he is an exception? He is Richard Riccaford, for crying out loud! The robust man I have known all my life doesn't allow anything to put him down. Has he forgotten who he is?

"Please call Gracia for me!"

I halt at the door, my chest almost banging with Damian's as he lurks behind me. I didn't know he was behind me, but he was beside me. I thought this Gracia witch stayed in this room for those long minutes I was gone to get Damian? I thought they were over with whatever they had to talk about. There have never been any tales between them since I can remember. But now, what is this they are talking about? Why did Gracia grow some fucking affection towards Papa overnight, particularly at this moment? And why is Papa entertaining them? He is fully aware they are nothing but cheap, manipulative, she-devils. So why?

"Alright, Dad! Try to rest for now," Damian answers on my behalf.

"Alright, son."

Dad? Son? Maybe I can understand the fondness between these two. But the bitches! And this sudden upheaval in Papa's behavior and theirs too? That is a misery I need to solve.

We wander out and meet the rest of the people out here: Mr. and Mrs. Riccaforte and the witch duos. If it were up to me, they wouldn't be here because they don't even belong here to start with. But for my father, only for him, I am willing to swallow this remorse I feel for them, even just this once.

"Gracia! My father wants to see you!" I say it calmly.

"Thank you," She amasses her extrinsic pride and hegemony and starts swinging her lean body past us, but I grab her hand before she can bypass me.

Bitches like these can't be banked on. Their presence has always been a peril to my harmony, and it is worse now. Every move by them is just ambiguous, and they will continue to be suspects of this dilemma until I can corroborate their innocence.

"What?" She snickers.

"For the sake of all the privileges you have enjoyed for being part of the Riccaford family, I beg you to upset my father. You at least owe him his peace of mind, if not love and respect, at this crucial moment of his life!" I warn.

She scoffs, "Who do you think you are to tell me how to handle my husband, huh? Yours is right behind you. Wait until you get married and handle him the way you damn wish, and that is if you two really get married! As for your father, you have no right to dictate to me how to handle him."

I lean closer to her ugly face. "I have all the rights, as his daughter. Because I have nothing but his best interests at heart. What about you? Can you swear that that is what you too wish for him?" I challenge.

"How dare you? Are you insinuating something?"

I look into her devilish eyes, the icy, ferocious glow in them dominating any tinge of innocence that can possibly be found in them. The look exudes a lot. Deep inside this glow lies something strange. Something weirdly disturbing that I can't quite decipher. I don't know what it is. I can't tell what it is, but it is like a dark secret that can unleash her real identity as the monster that she is if it is discovered. What are you hiding, Gracia?

"You are making a mountain out of a mole, Gracia. It was just a simple question that needed no fussing over, unless..."

"I am his..."

"Second wife!" I cut her off to remind her of this because she is just too delusional. 'There is no need to howl or gloat over it because the entire world knows who you really are. But I hope, Gracia, that that is all there is—that you are only his acting second wife and nothing else shady! Otherwise, you will not like me if I find anything to confirm my guesses, Gracia!"

She yanks her hand from my grip and leans into my ear, whispering in a tone that even I struggle to capture. "Welcome to this game, and good luck! I swear you will regret all the humiliations you have put me and my daughter through, bitch." The ringing of her devilish tone fades in my ear, and like Judas the traitor, she kisses my cheek before marching out with a triumphant smirk!

The she-Judas! The devil is incarnate! A dog in sheep's clothing! A green snake in green grass! A Game!? What game? And what is it that we are gambling on?

"Babe?" I turn to Damian as he speaks, my face plastered with a coat of confusion. "Are you okay?"

What stupid question is that? How can I fucking be okay after that witch's threat and riddles?