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Lord of Entertainment C38 You can't fool me
🕑 Added 2024-08-27 00:01:03 +0000 UTCA ripple of interest passed around the table. Even my half-siblings couldn't completely mask their curiosity at this news.
Ark's eyebrows rose slightly. "Harmony Records? That's quite impressive. What did they want?"
I shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. "They're interested in offering me a recording contract. They seem to think my 'grunge' style could be the next big thing in music."
Mariana beamed with pride, while Ark's expression remained carefully neutral. "And what do you think about that?" he asked.
"I'm considering it carefully," I replied. "It's a big opportunity, but there's a lot to think about. My relationship with the Rockwell Theatre, the terms of the contract... I want to make sure I make the right decision."
Ark nodded approvingly. "A wise approach. Don't forget, Arthur, the Whitlock name carries weight. Don't let them undervalue you."
I nodded at Ark's words, allowing a hint of shrewdness to show in my expression.
It was time to display the calculating, cautious, and intelligent side that the real Arthur Whitlock was known for.
After all, as the future head of the family, Arthur's business acumen was reportedly quite sharp.
Mariana chimed in with a suggestion. "Why don't we have our family lawyer assist Arthur in reviewing the contract they offer?" Her tone was gentle but firm, clearly used to navigating these family discussions.
Ark considered for a moment before nodding. "That could indeed be a good idea." He turned to me, his gaze scrutinizing. "What do you think, son? Would you be comfortable with that?"
I nodded, keeping my response measured. "Sure, that sounds reasonable."
Layla, apparently eager to contribute, leaned forward with a gleam in her eye. "We could also use our connections to pressure them into improving their offer."
"That's a possibility," Ark agreed, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
Internally, I was elated at the prospect of such powerful backing. However, I knew that the real Arthur Whitlock's pride would never allow for such overt family intervention. It was time for a calculated show of independence.
I shook my head, injecting a note of firm determination into my voice. "Please, I'd rather not. I don't want to rely on the Whitlock family name for my career. Using the family lawyer is as far as I'm willing to go."
I watched as Ark, Mariana, Layla, and Delilah exchanged knowing glances. They clearly recognized this as a manifestation of Arthur's well-known pride.
Ark nodded slowly as he returned to his meal. "Alright, if that's what you want."
Mariana reached out and squeezed my hand gently. "We understand, dear. We're just here to support you however we can."
Layla looked slightly disappointed but impressed. "Going it alone, huh? That's brave."
As our conversation continued, I couldn't help but notice the barely concealed displeasure on the faces of Ark's other wives and concubines. Their discomfort was palpable, though they maintained a veneer of politeness.
One by one, they finished their meals in silence and excused themselves, Ark acknowledging their departure with a understanding nod.
Layla picked up on the shift in atmosphere. She turned to me, her eyes bright with an idea. "Bro, you've invited me to see your performance at the Rockwell Theatre tomorrow. Will you also extend the invitation to Mother and elder sister?"
I glanced at Mariana and Delilah, noting the hopeful looks on their faces. "Of course," I replied warmly. "I'd be honored to have you all there."
Mariana's face lit up. "Oh, Arthur, we'd love to come. Wouldn't we, Delilah?"
Delilah nodded, a small smile gracing her features. "Yes, I'm quite curious to see this 'grunge' style of yours in person."
As lunch concluded, I found myself spending the afternoon with the family.
Layla suggested a game of golf in the expansive Whitlock gardens, an proposal that Delilah and I readily agreed to.
As we played, I became acutely aware of being watched. Two pairs of eyes, in particular, caught my attention. Mariana, of course, was openly observing from a nearby terrace, her gaze filled with a mixture of joy and lingering concern.
The other observer was more discreet, but no less intense. Lucy, my half-sister, stood at a third-floor window, her eyes fixed on our little group. When I caught her gaze, she didn't look away. There was something in her stare that I couldn't quite decipher - curiosity? Resentment? Perhaps a mix of both?
I offered her a friendly nod, which she didn't return. Turning back to the game, I tried to brush off the strange feeling her gaze had evoked. But a nagging sense of unease remained.
"Your turn, Arthur," Layla called out, pulling me from my thoughts.
I smiled, refocusing on the game. "Right, sorry. Got lost in thought for a moment there."
Delilah peered at me curiously. "Is everything alright? You seemed... distracted."
I waved off her concern. "Just still processing everything, I suppose. It's been quite a day."
Layla grinned, playfully nudging my shoulder. "Well, don't think too hard. You might strain something in that amnesiac brain of yours."
We all laughed, the moment of tension passing.
The game continued, filled with light-hearted banter and moments of companionable silence. But even as I laughed and joked with Layla and Delilah, a part of me remained alert.
***
The day had wound down peacefully enough. After dinner with Layla, Delilah, and Mariana, I'd excused myself for a shower, carefully negotiating for privacy - a request that raised no suspicions given my supposed amnesia and unfamiliarity with the house.
Now, settling onto the bed in Arthur Whitlock's personal room, I allowed myself a moment of contemplation. The soft lamplight cast long shadows across the unfamiliar space, a fitting metaphor for the secrets lurking in every corner of this household.
Suddenly, a chill ran down my spine - danger. Without thinking, I threw myself to the side, narrowly avoiding a vicious kick that splintered the headboard where I'd been sitting moments before.
Instinct took over. I activated {Shadow Step}, my form blurring as I swiftly moved across the room, putting distance between myself and my attacker. As I whirled to face my assailant, I found myself staring at a hooded figure, his/her form taut with aggression.
"You are a liar, Arthur Whitlock." The voice was unmistakably feminine, filled with a cocktail of emotions - anger, hurt, and something deeper I couldn't quite place.
I frowned, my mind racing. That voice... I knew I'd heard it before, but where? The answer came as the figure pushed back her hood, revealing Lucy's face contorted with fury.
"Why are you still here?" she demanded, her words dripping with venom.
For a moment, I was at a loss. Clearly, there was history here - history I wasn't privy to. I needed to tread carefully. "What do you mean?" I asked, buying time. Then, remembering my cover, I added, "I don't remember anything..."
Lucy's eyes narrowed, disbelief evident in her expression. "Don't play dumb with me, Arthur. Amnesia? Really? That's the best you could come up with?"
She began to circle me, her movements predatory. "You were supposed to be gone. We had a deal. Or did you conveniently forget that too?"
I raised my hands in a placating gesture, my mind working overtime. A deal? What kind of arrangement had the real Arthur made with Lucy? "Lucy, please," I said, injecting a note of confusion into my voice. "I truly don't know what you're talking about. If we had some sort of agreement, I... I can't remember it."
Lucy's face contorted with frustration, her teeth audibly grinding as she skillfully flicked her wrist, sending a flurry of sharp objects hurtling in my direction. I twisted and ducked, narrowly avoiding the projectiles.
"Don't lie," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "I know you remember your promise."
Sensing an opportunity to glean more information, I pressed, "Promise? What promise?"
My question seemed to ignite something in Lucy. She lunged forward, her movements a blur of practiced martial arts. Her fist came at me with startling speed. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't completely evade the attack. It glanced off my shoulder, sending me stumbling backwards.
Capitalizing on my momentary imbalance, Lucy pressed her advantage. A powerful kick to my stomach sent me flying across the room. I crashed into the wall with a resounding thud, grateful for the sturdy construction of the Whitlock mansion.
As I groaned, partly for show and partly from genuine discomfort, Lucy was on me in an instant. Her hand closed around my throat, her face inches from mine. I could feel her rapid breath on my skin as she snarled, "You've gotten weak. What happened to you?"
Playing up my vulnerability, I choked out, "I really don't... don't remember..."
Lucy's response was a derisive snort. "Hmph. Stop lying. I heard your little story about being chased and saved by a stranger. You might have fooled your parents, but you can't fool me."
Inwardly, I was elated. Lucy's words were confirming my suspicions about a deeper history between her and the real Arthur. Outwardly, however, I maintained my facade of confusion and distress.
