Part 3. Every medicine is a poison

Jacques bowed his head slightly, his hand on the left side of his chest in a fake smile that only a skilled schemer could tell from a genuine one.

Willow curtsied to him, but she didn't want to stoop too low.

If anyone was to be greeted as an "equal," it was the Atlas Council members, General Ironwood, and the small core of the Atlas government.

What was to say, having the biggest business in the Ashes field at the moment gave some preferential treatment.

"Mr. Duffo, what a meeting! I was beginning to think that you wouldn't get out of the buffet even if the whole palace started to collapse," Jacques began their dialog with a challenging glance at the man's bulky belly, barely squeezed into an expensive branded shirt.

" Well, come on Mr. Schnee, how could I miss such a rare event as a ceremony honoring our great revolution?" - "Mrs. Schnee, you look absolutely marvelous. While I was on the other end of the backstage area, I was already dazzled by your beauty," only to be showered with compliments a moment later.

"Thank you for your kind words, Mr. Duffo," the woman withstood his torrent of verbiage with a polite, expressionless smile on her lips.

She allowed Jacques to return to the subject of their interrupted conversation.

"I don't think you were on the guest list last year..." - It was as if he hadn't noticed the jab, or if he'd been able to maintain a friendly grin.

And Jacques knew for sure that only the second option could be true. His eyes flashed with a cold gleam.

Business shark, my ass. 

Mr. Duffault, however, with a real show of disappointment on his face, spread his hands apart.

"Alas, business, Mr. Schnee, business. Last winter I had to travel to the warm regions of Wakuo for business reasons," and he knew what they were... The sly bastard had managed to take over two major mining equipment companies, slowing down Jacques's plans for a year or more.

And the fat man was well aware of Jacques' knowledge of the forecast.

It was a good eye for an eye. 

Swallowing the insult, Mr. Schnee sighed heavily, shaking his head from side to side.

"I know what you mean... Sometimes I think I'm going to go to bed sooner or later from the exhausting routine and paperwork," he admitted, and he wasn't even lying.

However, what entrepreneur isn't haunted by nervous breakdowns, physical exhaustion and chronic illnesses due to an abundance of stress?

" Is that so? I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Schnee," the fat man nodded understandingly, and then continued, "However, I have to say, you really don't look too good today. Does the weight of such an important company for Atlas weigh so heavily on your shoulders?" - His fingers, more like wieners, traced anxiously over the man's chin as his predatory gaze traveled over Jacques's figure with what seemed to be genuine concern.

To which he could only dismiss it as idle speculation.

"What are you. It's just a little fatigue. I see you've lost a little weight. Isn't everything going so well in your house?" - The expressionless mask remained, preventing the businessman from feeling the full range of emotions that flared inside Jacques.

"Oh, you didn't! All I did was buy a new membership to Dream space, the best fitness center in Atlas, after all. Is it really that noticeable?"

With the last words, the fat man jokingly patted his stomach, reducing the SDC chairman's stiletto to a friendly compliment.

Sly and slippery ouch.... 

"Indeed, Mr. Duffo, indeed. I believe your wife would appreciate the progress you've made..." - but Jacques had no intention of relenting, breaking through the fat man's seemingly unbreakable armor.

He realized this when he saw a crooked and painful grin instead of the annoying smile that had become a monolithic facade.

"Ahem..." - which immediately disappeared from sight as the man hid his embarrassment behind a short cough, not forgetting to cover his mouth with a clenched fist, - "Well, what are we talking about business and business. I hear your eldest daughter, Winter, is still as zealous as ever about her studies? Otherwise, why wasn't she at Mr. Rise's recent banquet? You know, young people should be given time to rest. Let them enjoy their youth, so to speak, before it's possible and they're irrevocably absorbed into our old man's society. Ha-ha-ha-ha!" - At the end of his speech Mr. Duffo burst into a hoarse laughter.

And the chairman of the SDC almost gritted his teeth.

Are you trying to drive a wedge, then? 

Or are you throwing a fishing rod for further development of the topic? 

Curious, why not? 

"Winter has a certain," Jacques closed his eyelids for a moment, searching for a phrase to fit their conversation, "perfectionism, so I hope you realize how hard it is to keep her out of a particular field of study until she deems her knowledge sufficient. But I think she'll be sure to show her face at a public event soon. It is true that a short rest is sometimes necessary between working on your books and working on yourself," Jacques assured the man, smiling with the fringes of his lips.

Encouraged by the SDC chairman's words, the fat man had no choice but to smile back and nod contentedly.

"That's right, Mr. Schnee! You should know how much my boy was looking forward to the opportunity to meet the famous SDC princess in person. He's been dying to meet her."

But now it all makes sense.

As Jacques turned to his memories, two files from the Duffo family came to mind.

So, twins. 

Two of them, two of them, for an engagement, perhaps even marriage, to his eldest daughter.

You have quite an appetite, Mr. Duffault. It's a pity, though, that you'll have to be somewhat disappointed in this endeavor.

However, it's not a matter to be reported directly. He'll remember, the walrus. 

"You have two sons, don't you, Mr. Duffo?" - Jacques inquired serenely, turning to the father of the split family for clarification.

"Your memory does not fail you, Mr. Schnee. The eldest, Walter, found my company more agreeable to my dearest, when the youngest-" - The man didn't bother to finish what he hadn't said.

It was obvious as it was. Divorce never brings joy. Unless it's for people on the outside, like Jacques Schnee, who's made a good living out of a feud in a rival company.

For even a couple of ridiculous rumors can significantly affect the share price of the company, what was to say about such an event as a discord among the major shareholders, which were the Duffo spouses.

Well, and what is to be said, it was not without a little bit of misinformation thrown in among the owners of shareholdings and deliberate stirring up of the situation on his part.

However, it should be given credit, the man before him stood on his own two feet and even more so managed to make his own profit, having cleared almost the entire top of the company from the "ballast".

"Let's not talk about sad things, Mr. Duffo. And today is no occasion for sad thoughts. It's a celebration. I'm amazed the Council doesn't drain the entire annual budget of the Kingdom in a week of festivities," it was time to change the topic of their conversation so that they wouldn't continue to tread on the same ground.

"Oh, this is indeed a secret of the highest ranks of officials that has been passed down by word of mouth for generations!" - The man understood his motive perfectly well, looking around at the surroundings with an appraising gaze.

And so they would have continued without the sound of a woman's voice through the backstage speakers.

"Ten minutes until the ceremony begins. I repeat, ten minutes until the ceremony begins."

Immediately afterward, the inside pocket of Jacques's jacket vibrated with a nervous trill, to which he immediately responded by taking the scroll out of his pocket and casting an apologetic glance in the direction of his interlocutor.

"I beg your pardon," Jacques said, immediately turning his full attention to the caller, "I'm listening.

"Your instructions have been relayed to the proper departments, sir. It will take some time for the staff to arrive at the office, but we'll be ready in about an hour," Carmen, his secretary and personal assistant, reported precisely and strictly to the point, as she always did.

Excellent performance, you can't say otherwise.

"Okay, I hear you. Thank you, Carmen," Jacques thanked his assistant, putting an irritated grimace on his face in contradiction to his thoughts.

It's about time we put on a little show for the one and only audience.

"Trouble, Mr. Schnee?" - Correctly exposed his displayed range of emotions, Mr. Duffo.

Which is exactly what he was hoping for.

"Not to say something serious... Just a minor inconvenience," the SDC chairman brushed off the fat man's concerns. However, after chewing his lower lip for a few long seconds, he continued, "Look, Bran, could you do me a small favor?"

Mr. Duffo squinted his eyelids suspiciously, as if he sensed in his gut that something was wrong or that trouble was coming.

But he didn't show it.

"Depending on what you need help with, Jacques," the fat man murmured cautiously, losing any trace of cheerfulness or nonchalance.

He was now sensing a possible profit, and at the same time a great opportunity, which made the grip of the savvy peddler take over his mind, playing out all the possible outcomes in his head.

Jacques, however, hesitating to say the request aloud, after a deep sigh, finally decided to reveal his cards.

"Would you mind filling in for me during my presentation? The matter, though minor, requires a speedy solution, and I would be very grateful to you if you could help me out with this predicament," Jacques had the pleasure of observing two pairs of shocked eyes as he uttered the last word.

Willow was among them, but that detail was the least of his problems right now.

" But shouldn't the first speech after the General belong to the first businessman of Atlas? Are you just going to give me that seat so easily?" - Mr. Duffo asked in astonishment, unable to contain his feelings and not fully believing the words of his interlocutor.

After all, how could such a thing happen? Jacques Schnee and miss even a minor opportunity to show off, to show once again his dominance over smaller business colleagues?

A very unfunny joke.

Which Jacques was trying to pull right now, taking the reins of the conversation back into his own hands, not allowing the man to realize his own conclusions.

"Come on, Bran, you and I all know that little things like that don't matter. And also, if this small sacrifice will relieve my migraines on such a beautiful night, then I'm more than willing to make the deal you suggested," the tiredness in his voice seemed to be a spoonful of air.

So obvious was the comparison that even Mr. Duffo himself could not help nodding at his argument, falling headlong into the trap Jacques had laid for him.

"From what you say, the exchange is indeed of equal value, Mr. Schnee. Then I must hurry. I also need to warn the host of our blissful ceremony," a satisfied smirk blossomed on the face of the new 'first businessman of Atlas,' as the merchant realized how much profit he'd made from the exchange that had just taken place.

Jacques felt it his duty to sweeten the pill so that the man wouldn't realize anything after the madness that was to come.

"Once again, thank you very much, Mr. Duffo. And to tell you a secret, Winter is crazy about almond cookies, no matter how much she hides that passion," Jacques winked at the fat man, proof of the ear-to-ear grin that was the picture before him.

"I'll give this to Walter, Mr. Schnee. Mrs. Schnee, I must take my leave..."

"Have a lovely evening, Mr. Duffo," was all Willow said, her face unchanged in any way.

"Ha ha ha! And to you, Mrs. Schnee, and to you..." - Bran Duffo bowed his shoulders gracefully, only to run to the back of the stage to make minor adjustments with the organizers.

Leaving the Schnee couple to themselves.

***

Just as Bran left their company around the corner, the woman's sharp, manicured claws dug into Jacques's elbow, her indignant eyes staring into his very essence, demanding answers.

"Why did you use Winter?" - she hissed, like a street cat that had been stepped on, at the same time not allowing her ears to pick up on the subject of their dialog.

"I don't know what you mean," Jacques replied indifferently, staring unwaveringly into those two cold, burning lights deep within the satin irises.

"Don't lie to me so brazenly, Jacques. You know as well as I do that you're playing my daughter as just another chip in your favor," Willow didn't think to broach the subject of family, 'Why-why?' she repeated a second time. - she repeated a second time, in syllables.

Her anger was perfectly understandable to him. Jacques was aware of that.

Just as he realized that he couldn't open up to her if he wanted to.

The man had to keep silent about his afterknowledge, about the terror to come, and about Willow's own shrapnel wound on that fateful evening that would leave a deep scar on his back.

And if he wanted to change anything about it, or to offset the damage that would follow, then... there was only so much he could do to wriggle and squirm.

"First, to our daughter, Willow. Would you be kind enough to keep that detail in mind? And secondly... Neither she nor I have lost anything either way," and Jacques was partly right.

"Explain," Willow seemed intent on burning a hole in the bridge of his nose, so piercing was her gaze that it didn't bode well in case his answer didn't satisfy her.

"Like you didn't figure it out yourself? No matter how good Walter is, I'm sure our shrewd Winter will bring him down to the bottom of the ladder and destroy any hopes the boy, and his father with him, may have of gaining influence over the SDC and its resources through an engagement and later marriage to our daughter. And I don't intend to interfere in this mess any longer. She can handle herself. She's not a little girl,"

Jacques explained to her in his usual manner, with a touch of arrogance and conviction, as he adjusted the tie that had inexplicably come loose with his hand.

"She's still seventeen..." - His wife was indignant, and it was a great effort for him not to break down, shouting in the hope of giving this woman, at last, an understanding of the realities in which they had been living for more than a year.

"It's seventeen already! At her age, I had to pull my family's company out of a catharsis just to feed myself and my kin," Jacques glared down at her with venom, forcing her spouse to lower her fierce fervor and lower her gaze, accepting his words.

Nicholas Schnee's upbringing had provided an excellent foundation for his daughter, but it had also laid the foundation that Jacques had run into time after time, precisely against the wall of misunderstanding.

Business is dirt, politics is a cesspool full of manure and other waste products.

Fighting itself is a very unflattering act, in which there is no room for code, chivalry and kindness to one's enemies and competitors.

Either fight, diving headfirst into this filth, plunging through it, or stay out of it - you'll be safer.

Jacques did not have that choice, and he was not going to give it to his children, not allowing them to be tempted to give up the fight... HIS fight.

The man would not allow his legacy, his SDC, his life's work, to be buried.

That is why he demanded more than he should, preparing, teaching, testing for strength.

And the choice of chosen one for his daughters could be called one of such.

"Still. What was the whole circus even worth it for?" - bloody Nicholas and his stubbornness! 

Look what your daughter has become because of your own fault!

Stubborn as hell. 

"You won't believe the excuse about company business?" - Jacques sighed, looking up at the ceiling, which was nearly three meters high.

"What do you think?" - Willow snapped at him, which was unusual for her. She usually backed off after a rude response from him.

What is it? The alcohol? General agitation and fatigue? Or the fact that he brought up an unacceptable topic in his games?

" I see... However, whatever you had time to think..." - and yet I should have realized its limits. "I just had a headache."

Bullshit. It was bullshit. Willow realized it, and so did Jacques. But he needed to see how his wife would behave when he'd already gotten away with it twice.

"What? Are you laughing now?" - and, as it turned out, she wasn't going to let it go unpunished, getting more and more agitated, as if a small fire had started in her chest.

"Not at all," he tossed the dry logs over and over again, gazing into the increasingly hot flames with undisguised interest.

"You made trouble for Winter almost out of thin air for fun?!" - "If you don't plan to tell the truth, then just say so," the woman growled, her anger gone, only exhaustion and frustration.

"Absolutely not," the SDC chairman brushed aside her attempts at outrage, watching the embers of the recent spectacle cooling unemotionally.

Something in his chest pinched.

Perhaps she should check with her personal physician for suspected stroke or high blood sugar.

"Jacques Schnee," Willow made one last attempt to get the answers she needed.

"That's right. It's me," Jacques shook his head, definitely mocking her and all the worry and anxiety that was now weighing her down.

"You know I hate it when people avoid answering. Not just anyone, but my 'beloved' husband," the icy beauty almost spat out the last phrase, praying mentally that she would be able to break through the thick armor of differences between them.

"And I answered you truthfully. Without humor or jouissance," and Jacques was forced to disappoint her.

For the umpteenth time.

Willow didn't say anything, only covered her eyelids with exhaustion.

What remained of the embers was a pitiful mound of cooled ash.

It was the same color as her curls, which she was fixing into an elaborate hairdo.

For above their heads, the voice from the speakers sounded again.

"Three minutes to the performance. Please take all VIPs to their assigned seats."

"I guess it's time for us to go on stage, too," Jacques was the first to break the viscous silence, checking the clock on the scroll as if nothing had happened.

"Whatever you say..." - Willow nodded dryly at him, a mask of polite calm on her face.

It was time to go on stage.

Jacques had done a little, but the next couple of hours would tell if the adjustments he had made would be enough to move the wheel of fate even a millimeter, even a tiny bit.