The Tyrant's Trophy

Abijah

As a journalist: I’ve done a lot of crazy things in my life. I’ve traveled to many places locally and worldwide - both extravagant and atrocious. So, needless to say, nothing really surprised me all that much except one thing: Adam Carter’s house.

It wasn’t the sight of his house that stunned me. There were tons of security systems to get through as well as guard dogs that were sure to rip me to shreds. That stuff, I expected, so it didn’t faze me when the mutts growled with their teeth bared my way. It was more the fact that I was actually given permission to come inside the house, by the man himself, for a drink.

When we said we needed a drink, I thought he would have just pulled one out from his drawer and we’ll take a shot at the office. But the man wanted to get home to his wife and maybe we both were still reeling from the declaration his goon made.

“Daphnie, I’m home!” He shouted after he unlocked the door and we stepped inside. Unsurprisingly, his home was luxurious but tasteful. There wasn’t any unnecessary ‘art’ and his couches looked like actual couches - not the lumpy abomination my fiancee calls furniture at our place.

“I’m upstairs! I’ll be right down.” My inner journalist was immensely curious about the woman who pretty much stole the ice king’s heart. What kind of woman was Daphnie Carter? By the tone of her voice, she didn’t sound ruthless or cold but warm. Like winter giving way to springtime.

I kept these thoughts to myself. I wasn’t here for journalism and truly, I didn’t want to dig into another person’s life. Part of me has been feeling…guilty. Yes, that’s the right word for it; guilty.

Adam opened up the closet door near the entrance and then turned to me. “You can hang up your stuff here.”

“Thank you.” As I took off my sweater and purse, two vicious dogs ran up to Adam’s legs and began barking at me.

Adam had to tell them to stand down and at once, the barking ceased. I wanted to ask what kind of training he gives his dogs because their obedience was neat. Now if we can take those methods and apply them to people.

“Sorry, he’s very protective.” Adam referred to the pet he called Ace, who remained growling at me.

“Understandable,” I hung up my stuff. “I’m a stranger in your home. Your dogs are great at their jobs.” I had my fair share of canine attacks: it kind of comes with the territory when one becomes a journalist.

As we stepped further into the house, I could smell food. It reminded me of how hungry I actually was. I hadn’t eaten breakfast because of some interviews I’d been set up to tackle. There was still no lead on the murdered children and now four more were missing. The upsetting thing about all of this was no one saw anything out of the ordinary and the mothers are desperate. One is even seeing a ‘psych’ who claims that her daughter is still alive.

Then after that, I went straight to the meeting with Adam, Chad, and Quinn. So now that things calmed down, I’m starving, and in dire need of just spending time with my fiancee. “Something smells delicious,” I complimented.

Daphnie Carter came down and walked up to her husband. “Welcome home,” said as she walked up to Adam and pecked him on the lips.

The usually cold man wrapped one arm around her and placed a hand on her noticeable baby bump. “Daphnie, why are you cooking?” He worried over her like a mother hen.

“Because I felt like it.”

“You're supposed to be resting.”

As the two spoke, I remained my distance and took in the scene before me. The infamous ‘devil’s dog’ was a mere puppy around his lady. Their home was cozy with wedding photos and maternity photos decorating each wall. There was one where Adam was kissing his wife’s baby bump. Others were selfies of them being loving-dubby.

I think I needed a stronger drink than wine because this had to be a surreal dream. It was offsetting and yet beautiful at the same time. Adam found somebody who truly cared for him and accepted him in everything. All his ugly and coldness - this woman brought out actual good from inside him.

Basil came to my mind. I know he has me tied - the same as Daphnie had tied Adam. We are captives to those two; handing our hearts into the palms of their hands. It’s a painful thing: love like that because it means the one holding my heart can cradle it or simply squeeze it until it ceases beating.

That’s a terrifying thought for me. It makes me uneasy and I somehow find myself questioning, ‘am I ready for marriage?’

Yet the more appropriate questions that slither their way through my mind are ‘Is he marrying me or my sister?’ and ‘Does he truly love me or am I his rebound? A memory he’s still clinging to?’

With those thoughts churning in my head, I tend to shut my emotions down and reason them out. It’s a skill I honed, making it easier to deal with situations I find myself in. However, the past month is beginning to weigh on me. Basil and I have been in several ‘debates’ - that’s what we call arguments.

We’ve been going back and forth on time. He believes that I am neglecting him and does not love him anymore since I haven’t had time to spend with him. His assumption was uncalled for and unreasonable because there was too much to do.

I would love just a day with Basil; us just lazing around and being in each other company. I would love to have my phone not blow up or interviews to go to but I can’t. Maybell needs help and I’m going to see her case through. Also, missing children who are being killed is something I just can’t overlook. I was almost trafficked. I could have died. I could have been in that place: my body thrown in some dirty alleyway like garbage - overlooked by waves of people, waiting for that one decent soul to find me and actually say something.

I can’t sit idly by and not help in any way I can. Why can’t the one I love understand that?

“How was the meeting?” Daphnie’s question startled me. I managed to keep my composure as Adam turned my way and introduced me to his wife.

“This is the journalist I told you about.”

Daphne was the one to approach me and stuck out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I would say Daphnie Carter was not quite the opposite of her husband; the two gave off a little ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ sort of vibe but she was welcoming. She had this sort of politeness about her - maybe it was the baby in her womb that made her seem ‘soft’ but either way I found her pleasant.

“How did a man like Adam bag a woman like you?” It was a joke that made her laugh and Adam bristle.

“The meeting was stressful. Abijah and I needed a drink and to discuss a few things.”

“We can skip the drink and move to the discussion,” I prompted, feeling a bit bad for intruding on the two.

“Nonsense! We’d love to have you for dinner.” Daphne insisted, rubbing her swollen belly tenderly. “It’s still going to take a while, so make yourself comfortable.”

“I don’t mean to impose like this.”

She waved me off. “You’re not imposing! I actually wanted to meet you in person and thank you for blackmailing my husband.”

I froze.

She said it so casually, something I couldn’t foresee coming.

It showed me that Adam told his wife EVERYTHING and that was stunning but it shocked me more that his WIFE was ok with what I did. No woman in her right mind would take pleasure in the fact that her husband would be blackmailed. Daphnie Carter was something.

Adam broke off the conversation. “We’ll be in the living room.” He led me to the entertainment center and opened a door to grab two glass cups. “Bourbon, scotch, or whiskey?” He asked.

“Whiskey.”

We sat in opposite seats as he set the cups on the coffee table and poured our drinks. He handed me one and took a sip of his own.

“You have a beautiful home,” I complimented. “It’s strange seeing that you have a personal life and a soft side. You have a convincing mask.”

“It’s not a mask. What everyone sees is exactly who I am. My wife just so happens to bring out the best in me when we’re together.” It calmed my nerves to hear his usual coldness again.

“She’s wonderful.” The warmth of the drink soothed my throat. “I wonder what her story is?”

“Don’t you dare,” Adam threatened, prepared to pounce to protect his beloved.

“Relax.” I paused as I sipped my drink again. “I’m not interested in blackmailing her or using her in our deal. I’m just curious how you managed to win a catch like her - she seems like a strong lady.” I may be pushy, but I’m not shallow.

There was a pause before I dived into what I really wanted to talk about. “Why didn’t you do worse to Chad?”

Adam chuckled. “Were you hoping to take notes, or were you just hoping for some entertainment?”

I shrugged. “I’m just surprised. I’ve heard that you’re ruthless. Not to mention the rumors about you being involved with the mafia.” And those rumors followed the man everywhere. Of course, there’s no solid proof that it is true, but if it ever comes out, I won’t be surprised.

I think a man like Carter would be huge if he was tied to the Mafia world. Hopefully, that never happens though because he has a wife and a child now. Being involved with the underbelly would put his lover and their baby at great risk.

Unconcerned, Adam reclined back in his seat. “Chad will pay other consequences for his foolish actions.”

That’s unhelpful. “What if those consequences are him and Maybell losing their lives?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I put all my employees through intense training. Also, Chad has prior experience serving in the Navy SEALS. Despite the fact he’s in love, that’s something you can’t get rid of. As Quinn said, Chad will be more protective now.”

“So you’re okay with Chad being in love with Maybell? What if he pulls a move on her and scares her?”

“No. I’m not okay with Chad being in love. As I said before, that’s unprofessional. However, Chad won’t try anything with Maybell. He’s old-fashioned. He was raised to respect women. After a few discussions we had regarding Maybell, I could tell that he respects she needs her space and is fragile.”

“Maybe that’s true but I still feel uncomfortable.” Call it instinct or a strange sixth sense but this whole case puts me on the tip of my toes. “I need to do more digging. That murder thing Chad brought up today just rubs me wrong and the fact that the police would drop those charges against Phil Sweetheart. Anyone else who would impersonate a doctor would have been slain by the law. Also, those numbers are in the journals? Not all of them look like prescriptions. They look like some sort of codes.”

“Do what you have to, but there’s something present we need to discuss." Adam's face grew dark. "Your fiance touched my wife.”

Before I could respond, Adam’s wife came to the room and informed us that dinner was ready. She had made lasagna along with some garlic bread. It was delicious - the woman knew her stuff, but I couldn’t fully enjoy it with Adam’s words on my mind.

When did Basil even MEET Daphnie Carter and how did he touch her? He couldn’t have touched her inappropriately. Basil is too extroverted but he’s not sleazy, although, I had warned him that not everyone likes their hands being touched or receiving hugs. Heck, I punched the man many times before we got together because of those things!

But he never told me anything about meeting the Carters. When was this and why had he not told me? Come to think of it, Basil came back yesterday with an ugly bruise on his eye but he didn’t want to talk about what happened. Suddenly, it clicked.

Adam punched Basil. Yesterday must have been when it happened.

Deducing that made me feel hurt.

“So Abijah,” Daphnie said. We had finished dinner and decided to recline in the entertainment room again. I sat in the seat I was before and the Carters sat with each other. Daphnie leaned into her husband and he wrapped an arm around her. “I wanted to thank you for blackmailing Adam.”

“I’m shocked you’re thanking me.” I couldn’t help but eye her up and down, wondering where Basil touched her. I could feel my heart sinking a little as the married couple instantly cozied up to one another. “Blackmail isn’t something most people would appreciate.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I dislike when my husband is threatened, but it was necessary.”

That opened a door for a brief distraction. “How so?”

Adam spoke now. “As you know, I’ve seen quite a few things while I was in the Marines. Due to that, I developed PTSD. I had it under control until my wife suffered a miscarriage.” His eyes dropped at the loss of their first child.

Miscarriage was a common tragedy but nevertheless, it’s still raw and painful for anyone to go through. I felt for the couple because I know as tough as I made myself out to be, losing a child I carried would be like ripping my soul out of my very being.

Daphnie comforted her husband, rubbing soothing circles on his thigh. “The grief caused him to regress. He dealt with nightmares and certain sounds caused flashbacks as well as anxiety attacks. Unfortunately, while having those episodes, Adam unknowingly hit me. I had to go to the ER several times.”

I stood quiet as Adam carried on the story. “Daphnie finally had enough and told me I needed to go to counseling. I was prideful though and refused. I kept insisting that I had everything under control and would be fine. So Daphnie left me.”

“You made the right decision.” Neither Carter took offense to my statement.

“A few weeks later, you strolled into my office and blackmailed me.” Ironic. That explains the intense training that day: Adam took out his frustration on his team. “As I looked over Maybell’s file and saw how her husband beat her, it disgusted me. Then it hit me that although I wasn’t deliberately hitting Daphnie, I knew the source of my problem and refused to address it. That’s as bad as if I were beating her for the heck of it. Then and there I decided to go to counseling.”

“After a while, I talked to Adam’s counselor, and he told me how well Adam had been doing. I was proud of him, but still hesitant to come home. There was a small amount of worry in the back of my mind. One day, I went to the bar in one of Adam’s hotels and met Maybell. Surprisingly, she had no idea who I was, so I couldn’t help but vent a little.”

That’s right. I saw her sitting as Maybell gathered her things. “She pointed out to me that Adam must really love me if he was willing to humble himself and go to counseling. I realized he would never hurt me again, and so I came home.”

I couldn’t help the small smile as their story ended with Adam kissing his wife’s head and pulling her closer to himself. They seemed so whole.

“How long have you two been married?” I asked.

“We just celebrated four years.” The two were proud of themselves and they had every right to be. I often heard that the first two years of marriage are the hardest but if a couple can survive it, they come out stronger.

Can Basil and I last that long? That brought me to my next question. “Daphnie, Adam told me my fiancee touched you.” That’s a story, I needed to hear clearly.