50. Past deeds

"What about your husband," her father had asked leaning back in his seat contemplatively.

"I will divorce him of course," she had replied confidently. She stood up and went to the whiskey decanter in the room and poured both of them a hefty dose of whiskey. She walked back and placed his glass in front of him and she sat down on the chair facing the desk.

He laughed, "I thought you were in love with the bastard," he said drinking his whiskey in one gulp. A cruel smile took over her lips and she sipped her own whiskey, "Love is a weakness people like you and I can't afford," she said looking at the whiskey in her glass.

"Then why did you save his daughter that night?" he asked leaning forward.

"That little girl is my daughter," she said softly. "I hid her from the moment she was born as far away from you as possible. My mistake was hiding her in plain sight. I have learnt my lesson, this time I will hide her out of sight."

The shock on his face turned to respect and then amusement, "I will find her again. We will play this game to the end but I will find her."

"No, you won't," Angela said just as softly. "You see I will protect her with my life if need be and that is the reason, I need that seat you are sitting in. You made the mistake of threatening her life and now you have to pay with your own." Blood had started dripping from his nose and he reached up to wipe it surprise on his face. He stood up and started staggering around the desk to reach her but he fell to the ground his strength gone. He coughed up blood as he tried to crawl. Angela watched from her chair as she gulped down the rest of her whiskey and placed the glass on the table. She knelt on the ground close to him and pulled his head onto her lap and looked into his eyes, "I am willing to become a monster just like you to protect my little girl from the darkness that has consumed our souls." He died looking at her as if he couldn't believe his only daughter had the courage to kill him. She had slid closed his eyes and kissed his forehead softly. She had then taken his gun and walked out of the room. She found her target quickly as he was her father's right-hand man and the man who had been sent to kill Shirleen and Shirley and shot him twice in the chest. Finally, she had taken over the family and she had ruled with an iron fist just to protect that little girl who had been born with her blood coursing through her veins.

"Why didn't you tell me you were my mother?" Shirleen whispered softly.

"Because even though I hated Shirley for being the one your father loved, she loved you and took care of you when I couldn't. She showed you how to be kind and gentle. She let you grow up in a good environment," Angela said reaching out to wipe the tears running down Shirleen's face. "The reason I couldn't look at you was because whenever I saw you, I wanted to hug you so badly and tell you who I was but you already had a mother who had loved you so very much. It was the least I could do to thank her for raising you. She is the only woman I have hated; I have been sorry to and have been thankful to all at the same time," Angela said just as softly.

"Mrs. Nzula?" Shirleen asked.

"Nana knows that is why she stayed with you in South Africa," Angela said smiling, "She was there when you were born."

"Stacey?" she asked looking at the woman dressing Angela's wound.

"I was there when you were born too," Stacey replied smiling adoringly at Shirleen. "I might have been harsh to you during our interactions, but I wanted you to be able to show your mother you are strong and she didn't have to hide you from the world."

"Now I know why you bought me very nice clothes and jewellery, come to think of it," Shirleen teased her and Stacey smirked.

"Just out of curiosity," Shirleen said seriously turning to look at Angela, "Unless Stacey gave you one hell of a pain killer which I did not see. Why are you not feeling pain?"

Stacey glanced discreetly at Angela and then turned away busying herself. Angela sighed, "I told you my father sent me on an assassination was when I turned eight. Due to my inexperience I got badly hurt. I was in pain and I cried and passed out. My father decided that pain in an assassin is a weakness, so he paid doctors a fortune to get rid of my nociceptors or what you call pain receptors. No matter how much I am physically hurt I cannot feel pain. In short, I can walk for miles with a broken leg or continue fighting with a broken hand. He was told it was dangerous to do so but he did not care. If I don't feel pain how will I know I have been hurt enough to bleed out, or a fatal wound has been inflicted on me, or I have internal bleeding? But at the end of it all he got an efficient killing machine that did not feel pain or was incapacitated by it enough to leave a target alive."

"I didn't know," Lawrence whispered sorrow on his face.

"You were never interested to learn anything about me," Angela said as a matter of fact and continued to look at her daughter with tenderness. Finally, she was able to touch Shirleen the way a mother should. For so many years she had dreamt of it but always pushed her desire to the back of her mind knowing a slip from her could get her in danger.