Chapter 11

Archer lived in a palace. Emilia noticed this even before she got to the actual house. The scenary had changed from busy highways, mediocre urban apartments and city skyscrapers to boarded up houses on the brink of collapse and shit-stained roads then to lush green hills with grand mansions. This was clearly a neighborhood for the rich and famous or for those that were looking forward to retirement. The area screamed peace and tranquility. Children, teenagers and scarred women like her did not have to constantly look over their shoulders for fear of being kidnapped. They did not have to spend time watching the Investigation Discovery Channel to keep up with the latest trends of serial killers and psychopaths. They passed a few people going for a night run dressed in expensive tracksuits while others opted to walk their dogs because it was relatively cooler. Emilia couldn't help but wonder why a person this rich worked as a state detective and not in Hollywood.

While Emilia was struggling to pick her jaw off the floor, Archer was regretting offering to take her to his house. Well technically, this was not his house, not the one he lived in on a daily basis. This was the house that his father had left to him when he died. Taking her to this house brought about two major problems. One, he would be seeing his mother again and two, he was opening up himself to the bad memories that this house brought. The only reason he hadn't sold it to some rich investor was because Rosalia had explicitly refused to live in the house he had bought on his own salary. It was apparently too below her standards. Rosalia was a queen when it came to exaggerating. His house was not badly off. It was a loft apartment with a nice view and a big compound. It required a few renovations but it was slowly turning out alright. Dread was slowly but surely building up in his chest with every turn towards this wretched house.

Emilia had expected a palace but she was still amazed when Archer stopped at a black barred metallic gate that had a white metal sign on the side that read, FINN RESIDENCE

Archer turned his face to the camera at the side of the gate and it buzzed open revealing a paved road that seemed to go on forever. The road was bordered by a mini orchard that showcased grapes and apples in various stages of growth. This was the source of the Finn's wealth. Marcos Finn had planted this orchard and another in Tennessee to fund his wine making business in Atlanta before he died. The wine business was currently run by an organization in Atlanta that repatriated a portion of the profits into a trust fund under Marcos' name. Emilia felt like she was in a fairytale.  For Archer, this house was only superficially beautiful; inside it was a place where souls came to die.

The paved road continued on until the white and black exterior of the mansion came into view. It was a magnificent building with real mahogany doors. Emilia bet that everything in this house was either original or an antique. Their security detail had already arrived. Archer parked the car but he remained rooted in the car seat. Emilia noticed his white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. Against her better judgement, she put her hand on top of one of his and just like a balloon being deflated, he sighed; calming down. Emilia knew that there was something about this house that made Archer tense and if he felt like telling her, he would tell her at his own time. She wasn't going to force him.

They walked out and were welcomed by an old maid in a black and white uniform who led them through the front entrance to what seemed to be a living room. One wall was dominated by a flat screen TV while the rest of the room was so blindingly monochromatic  that Emilia's eyes threatened to tear for the millionth time that day. The glass coffee table was a welcome addition to the heaven themed living room.

A dark haired woman sauntered in holding a vodka martini in her hand. Her hands trembled slightly sending some of the vodka onto the floor. She was wearing a silky blue dress with glass heels. Her black hair that was so like Archer's fell around her shoulders and her neck was adorned with the most beautiful diamond necklace Emilia had ever seen, maybe that was because the ones Emilia wore were simply replicas. Her walk was elegant, sexy and political. Yes, political.

"Hello, mother." Archer said in way of greeting as he walked past the woman and prepared to climb up the spiral white staircase. "Long time no see." She merely grunted in acknowledgement then asked with a smile on her face.

"Is this your side bitch?" Emilia was completely thrown by the question and it was now Archer's turn to stop Emilia from pummeling this woman to a pulp. Emilia tried to ignore the woman but she added with a sneer after giving Emilia the once over, "You got yourself a good one this time."

Abigail couldn't hold it in any longer, "Excuse me Mrs-"

"Mrs. Abigail Finn." The well dressed woman supplied and stretched one of her hands in greeting. Each finger on Abigail's hand except the ring finger was encompassed by a ring. Emilia was not going to give this woman the pleasure of a handshake and Abigail huffed a laugh as she lowered her hand.

"Yes, Mrs. Finn. What I do and do not do with your son is not your business."

Abigail just smiled again and looked at a fuming Archer then said, "She's got a mouth too. The perfect combination. Don't you think?" Emilia was so done wasting her breath on Abigail Finn and she joined Archer in climbing the stairs just as Abigail laughed. A rich sound that echoed in the huge house.

When they reached the first landing, Archer apologized on his mother's behalf. Emilia held his hand and told him that she didn't mind what Abigail said but that was a big fat lie. The side bitch part had hurt her. She was not going to be anyone's side bitch. She also mumbled a few words of appreciation for the accommodation. He then slotted in the key and a few twists later they entered what Emilia assumed was Archer's room.

The room was huge and highly masculine. It was painted maroon all over. The king-sized bed that dominated the room was well made; the red sheets pulled tight over the bed you could bounce a coin on it. The closet was a dark brown shade and it was isolated on the other side of the room. Emilia brushed her fingers over the desk in another corner that held a picture of a fourteen year old girl smartly dressed in her uniform and her fingers came back dusty. So Archer did not stay in this house often. She would ask about this later. The room was magnificent but what caught her attention was the door on the far side of the room next to the dusty desk.

Sensing her curiosity, Archer opened the door and Emilia was greeted to a room that mirrored the previous one but it was feminine this time. This must be Rosalia's room. Emilia paused. What kind of married couple slept in an adjoining room? This room smelled strongly like coconuts which Emilia detested, the closet was much bigger and there was no desk. Emilia turned towards Archer who stood in the doorway holding her overnight bag. He was looking everywhere but at her so she took it upon herself to break the silence.

"Is this where I will sleep?"

"Yes, the bathroom is the door across this one." Archer said pointing to the door from which they had come. "I will go downstairs make us some food." Without further ado, Archer left her in Rosalia's room. This house made Emilia's heart ache for Archer and the pain he kept hidden daily. She had had a front view seat to the pain that had flashed across Archer's face when his mother had said those words.

Is this your side bitch?

Emilia sat on the purple bed and she was almost sucked in. The bed was too soft for her liking but it would have to do after all this was meant to be a safe house not a hotel. She checked her phone. Two texts from Elizabeth.

Thank you for all your help. I won't forget it.

And I am sorry for what I said at the station

Elizabeth had added a pleading emoji. Emilia's heart did a stupid summersault on seeing the messages. She had probably got her number from Margaret. Emilia was still happy that she had texted her. She contemplated a reply that would not spook her but the big sister in her would not be swayed. She texted instead.

Who is the father?

Elizabeth replied immediately

He is a nice man. You will meet him when everything settles down. Love you and Goodnight

Emilia's heart did the stupid summersault thing again. She really needed to get used to the fact that her sister didn't hate her. She set down her phone on the table that was covered in a film of dust. She remembered something from her Google search on Rosalia last night or was it early in the morning. She had lost track of time.

Rosalia Finn Grande, twenty eight years old, international model with SSA&Co Fashion Limited.

Did Rosalia work so much that she was never at home or was she simply staying away from Archer? She was busy in thought when a blood curdling scream rocked her to attention. Without thinking, she ran for the door and dashed down the very delicate looking spiral staircase, her lungs and heart battling to keep up. She reached the kitchen and watched in shock as Archer strangled his own mother.