The Power Play

Richard

After leaving Charlotte’s room, I descended the stairs with anger still simmering inside me. The failure of the fertilization was a threat to the carefully laid plan I had crafted. I couldn’t allow this failure to go unnoticed. Something had to be done.

When I reached the downstairs, I found Marta in the living room, still wearing the severe expression she’d had since she gave me the news. She observed me silently for a moment, as if waiting for my complete reaction.

"We need a new approach," I declared, my voice hard.

Marta nodded, as if she had already been expecting this. "Charlotte needs to understand that there’s no room for mistakes. If she can’t fulfill her role, then we’ll have to take more drastic measures."

Her words mirrored the thoughts consuming me. Marta had always been ruthless, and at that moment, I was ready to be equally harsh. "We’ll put more pressure on her. She needs to understand what’s at stake and that there won’t be a third chance."

"She’s aware," Marta responded with a sharp look. "But we need to ensure that her failure isn’t repeated. I’ll intensify my supervision over her. Nothing will be left to chance."

As Marta spoke, I realized that despite her willingness to control every aspect of the situation, there was something more we needed to do. Something that would ensure Charlotte not only fulfilled her role but also fully understood the weight of her responsibility.

"I’ll speak with the doctors," I said, making a firm decision. "We’ll reevaluate the process. If necessary, we’ll make adjustments to ensure nothing goes wrong next time."

Marta seemed satisfied with my determination, but there was still a shadow of doubt in her eyes. "And if she fails again, Richard?"

That question hung in the air, heavy with implications. I knew that the possibility of a second failure was something we couldn’t ignore. But there was no room for uncertainty. There couldn’t be any more failures. Charlotte needed to deliver what was expected of her.

"She won’t fail," I responded with a firmness that surprised even me. "We can’t allow it."

The following days were marked by even stricter surveillance over Charlotte. Marta seemed to be everywhere, watching her, mentally noting every movement, every breath. The atmosphere in the mansion became even more oppressive, like a noose tightening around Charlotte’s neck, suffocating any trace of freedom she might have had.

No matter how much pressure Marta intensified, I knew I couldn’t leave everything in her hands. I needed to be more present, more involved. It was my responsibility to ensure the plan was executed perfectly.

One night, after yet another day of tension, I decided to visit Charlotte in her room again. There was a growing need within me to reaffirm control over the situation, to show her that there was no escape, that she was trapped in the role assigned to her.

I knocked on the door lightly before entering. Charlotte was sitting in a chair by the window, staring out with a distant expression. When she saw me, she straightened up, as if expecting another reprimand.

"We need to talk," I began, closing the door behind me.

She nodded but said nothing. I could see the exhaustion in her eyes, but that didn’t diminish the frustration still boiling inside me.

"The situation we’re facing is serious," I continued, keeping my tone controlled. "There’s no more room for errors. Next time, you cannot fail."

She bit her lip, a nervous reaction that only irritated me further. "I know," she replied in a low voice. "I’m trying."

"Trying isn’t enough, Charlotte," I snapped, my voice cutting. "You need to succeed. That’s your only role here, and you must fulfill it."

She looked down, as if trying to find the right words, but she knew that any response she gave would be insufficient. The pressure on her was immense, and that was exactly what I intended. Charlotte needed to feel every ounce of this weight, needed to understand that failure was not an option.

"I understand," she finally said, her voice barely audible.

"Good," I replied, satisfied with the apparent submission in her voice. "Because, Charlotte, if you fail again, the consequences will be much worse."

She didn’t respond, but her silence was enough for me to know that the message had been received. I left the room with the certainty that despite the initial failure, we were back in control. Charlotte would do what was necessary, and there would be no more failures.

As I walked back to my own room, the anger that still resided within me began to dissipate, replaced by a cold sense of determination. No matter what it took, I would ensure that everything went as planned. The future of the Andersons depended on it, and I wasn’t willing to let anything—or anyone—stand in my way.