Chapter 52

**James POV**

James called Tank as he descended through the stairs and removed the mask, not bothering with the elevator.

"Ready the jet. We need to fly to London", James ordered Tank.

Just as he was about to step into the future his past has to pull him back once again. Well, not this time. By hook or by crook James wouldn't let anything or anyone meddle in his plans.

As the driver took him to the airport, James dialed the chief head of the Atlanta division on his phone.

"Mr. McKenzie, how may I help you?" His employee asked as he quickly dabbed the sweat on his brow. Getting a call from one's boss does that. Especially at this time of night.

"A girl named Amanda is working in the Marketing department in your division", James informed me as a matter of greeting.

"A girl sir? Has she done something wrong? Did she try anything with you, sir?" The manager Patrick asked as he thought of the scenarios of when or how she got the chance to do so! He must be getting lenient if the main boss thought to call personally about one of his employees.

"Nothing of that sort. I want you to keep her busy. Make sure she doesn't have any time other than to eat, sleep and work. Promote her if you want to. Better yet, send her to another city. Say she has to either take the promotion or quit the job", James directly went to the jugular of the topic.

"But sir that's-" Before Patrick can say it's unethical, James interjected him.

"I don't pay you to hear your opinion. Do as I say" James barked his command.

"What shall I tell her?" Patrick asked, thinking about how to approach this.

There is a delicate line between overworking an employee and exploiting an employee. It can turn into a breach of employee rights which in turn leads to a legal notice very soon if the employer is not cautious. And here his boss is commanding to ignore and exploit.

"You are the chief head for a reason. You will think of something. And Patrick, if I learned she got any free time on her hands, it will be your job which will be on the line. Are we clear?" James threatened with a disguised question.

Patrick gulped at the obvious threat. He collected his thoughts and said, "Ye...yes, Mr. McKenzie. I will make sure everything happens as per your wish."

James disconnected the call as he thought to himself, 'no one gets in the middle of him and his Bella. Be that friend or foe."

Once safely tucked in his jet, he recalled the call that shook him.

"James, your father is dead", his stepmother said as if he had inconvenienced her with his demise.
No preamble, no sorry, no kind words. But then this is his stepmother. Considering her un-panicked state James deduced she must have already laid a cap on her future scapegoat.

Good for her. As long as she stays away from him, he doesn't give a fuck. If only she can take her daughter far away too.

James should feel something. A minimal courtesy of sadness. However, he felt nothing. Not even guilt. That man never tried to be his father when he was alive. Why should he mourn for him when he is dead?
A father helps their children when in trouble. Praise them when they accomplish something. Encourages them to reach the finish line when they are struggling. Guides them when in need of support. And much more.

A father does many things to nurture their children but not starve them as his father did to him. Not slap him for daring to question him. He couldn't forgive him for that.

*Twenty-four years ago*

James couldn't recall the last time his father had dinner with him. In fact, he tends to avoid such hardships. Hence it came as a surprise when his father sat beside his chair on the dining table.
James stopped his spoon in the mid-air as his father cleared his throat. Since last year, his father rarely speaks with him other than to demand something of him.

James got used to it, resigned to the fact that this is his life now. When James reluctantly put the spoon back and looked at his father, his father said,

"I'm marrying Eleanor", he said sternly.

"Who?" James was confused with placing the name with the image of the lady. There were so many of them since Perla left his home, he didn't bother with the names anymore.

"No need to concern yourself with who she is. All you have to know is there will be two more people living here after the marriage", his father said negligently.

James's cheek turned red with frustration. How can he say it as if it doesn't matter? Sometimes like today he feels like he is not his son but some orphan he adopted for society's sake. He wouldn't have thought like this a year ago.

But then so much has been changed since that incident. His parents got divorced. He is no longer a little boy with dreams in his eyes. He became aware of his situation. Though he accepted the privilege of his position, he resented its limitations.

Generally, Agatha would be there near him to stop him from saying anything that might rub his father the wrong way.

However, as Agatha is on leave and wouldn't return for two more days, James didn't realize what he was doing by blurting out the things he did until it was too late.

"I don't want anyone in my home. This is my home, mine", James stomped as he backed his chair and stood toe to toe with his father.

"Careful boy. Just because I ignored you doesn't mean I haven't forgotten what you did. Try my patience once again and you might not like the consequences", James's dad warned him.

"I don't care what you will do. I hate you. You always think about yourself", James said bravely not realizing the glint in his father's eyes.

"I said shut the fuck up!" His dad grabbed his arms hardly as he closed the distance.

Uncaring about the pain, James went on, "no! I won't. I hate you...hate you...hate you. And I hate Eleanor too. She might be like Perla for you to notice her. She is nothing but a -"

"Enough", James's dad raised his hand and slapped him across the cheek.

James stood still as if he was rooted to the spot. No one, not even Perla raised her hand. James experienced pain that no boy of 11-year-old age should experience. For a minute he thought his teeth would come loose from the impact.

His cheek throbbing from the hit, James turned to his father with tears in his eyes and whispered, "You are nothing but a monster" vehemently.

James's dad glared at his son with the hatred he tried to suppress till now. A vein throbbed in his forehead as his jaw clenched at the undeterred look his son gave him.

"How dare you! My lenience has given wings to you. I won't tolerate this behavior", He bellowed.

"Or else what, you will ignore me like always?" James taunted not caring about his father's rage.

James's dad would have felt shame if James didn't stand bravely in front of him. Looking at the proud stance of his son, an angry haze covered his mind, not giving him a chance to second guess his decision.
James's dad then clutched his hand hard enough to leave a bruise and dragged him towards one of the top rooms.

"You are nothing but a nuisance. I should have disciplined you long before. My thoughtlessness gave you the spirit to stand before me. You will learn once and for all who is in charge of this house", he growled with uncontrollable anger.

James's dad then harshly threw him across the room uncaring that his son stumbled and fell on the floor. He is mad enough to let the boy be locked in this room forever. But for now, a lesson must have to suffice.

Unfortunately, James's dad had a meeting that evening where he learned that he had to travel to another city for a week and all thoughts of his son locked in a room slipped from his mind.

Once his father left him locked in the room, James struggled to sit still. He paced the floor to pass time as he was sure his father would return soon. Once he unlocks the door, he will get an earful, James’s thought.

However, when an hour after hour passed and the dark descended, his mind started to play tricks.
The dark took the sinister form in the gloomy room.

Each object became a zombie. The anchored objects came to life with bleary red eyes. They are smirking at him...taunting him with sharp pointy teeth. Tiny unheard night sounds increased tenfold. The clock's ticks became a piece of horrible background music to his imagination.

Scared out of his mind, 11-year-old James's bravery deserted him as he started banging the door.
"Please father, let me out. Please. I won't say anything like that again. It's scary here. Please", James banged the door.

Uncontrollable tears rolled down his cheeks. Huge loud sobs racked his body. His hand turned red with the force he applied on the door. His voice is starting to turn hoarse from pleading...yet no one listened.
After an hour of banging, James gave up on begging and slowly slid down. He sat on the floor with his arms wrapped around his legs.

His shirt is wet from his gut-wrenching sobs. Sweat trickled from his temples. He hiccuped as he served the room. The wind is blowing fast from the open window thus giving the curtain a life of its own.
James' fear increased as he imagined it as a scary wraith came here to take him away to hell. James' panicked state of mind created arms and legs to that curtain. A sudden gust of wind blew the curtain higher than before.

A sudden loud bang of the clock made him jump and an ear-piercing scream tore from him as the curtain moved closer than ever to the place he was leaning on. James ran and dived fast under the blanket of the bed as unmanageable tremors ran through his body.