Chapter 5: The Game of Wolf and Sheep
3087words
I had about two hours to prepare for my conversation with Richard. This could be my last chance to stay here, or it could be a turning point in my life. The key was to convince him that protecting me was in his best interest.
I carefully selected my outfit for today: a dark suit that looked professional and reliable, paired with the pearl necklace Michael had left me. Not too flashy, but elegant enough to make an impression. My makeup was refined but not excessive, and my hairstyle was simple but not rigid. I needed to look like a young woman worth investing in, not an orphan in need of assistance.
When I appeared in the dining room, Victoria was drinking her morning coffee. She looked at me, a certain expression I couldn't decipher flashing in her eyes.
"You're up early today." She said, with a hint of probing in her voice.
"Yes, I have some important matters to attend to." I replied, trying to keep my voice calm.
"A meeting with Richard?" Her gaze sharpened, "I overheard your phone call last night."
My heart skipped a beat, but I remained outwardly composed. "It's about some orphanage matters. I need Mr. Richard's advice."
Victoria put down her coffee cup, observing me carefully. "Emma, I want to give you some advice. In this family, honesty is very important. If there's anything that might affect our reputation..."
"I understand, Mrs. Victoria." I interrupted her, "I would never do anything to harm this family."
She nodded, but her eyes remained filled with doubt.
At half past eight, I appeared punctually in front of Goldman Sachs Investment Bank's building. This skyscraper gleamed brilliantly, symbolizing the pinnacle of power and wealth. As I stood here, I recalled how I felt when I first came to New York. Back then, I was just a girl full of dreams; now, I knew the price of those dreams.
Richard's office was on the forty-second floor, with a view overlooking the entire Manhattan financial district. When the elevator doors opened, I saw a completely different world—busy traders, flickering computer screens, and that atmosphere of tense excitement that only money can bring.
"Miss Modest?" A young assistant approached me, "Mr. Branford is waiting for you."
Richard's office was even more impressive than I had imagined. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows, expensive furniture, and walls adorned with various awards and photos with celebrities. He sat behind a massive mahogany desk, reviewing documents. When I entered, he looked up, examining me with that scrutinizing gaze I had become familiar with.
"Sit down, Emma," he pointed to the chair opposite him, "Now tell me exactly what happened."
I took a deep breath and began the narrative I had carefully prepared. "Last night, Ms. West from the orphanage called me. She said the police are reopening the investigation into Mr. Michael's death, as someone reported certain suspicious circumstances to them."
Richard's expression remained unchanged, but I noticed his fingers tapping lightly on the desk—a habitual gesture when he was thinking. "What kind of suspicious circumstances?"
"She didn't specify the details, but they want to question me again, because I was the last person who saw Mr. Michael." I paused, letting worry appear on my face, "Mr. Richard, I'm scared. If the police think there's something wrong with me..."
"You're concerned it might affect our family." He said, which wasn't a question.
"Yes." I nodded, "I can't let you and Lady Victoria bear any risk because of me. If necessary, I can..."
"Can what?" His voice was calm, but his eyes became sharp.
"I can leave." I said, making my voice carry an appropriate amount of sadness, "I don't want to cause trouble for you."
Richard was silent for a long time, then stood up and walked to the window. He stood with his back to me, gazing at the city scene outside. This silence made me uneasy, but I knew that staying calm was the most important thing now.
"Emma," he finally spoke, "last night we discussed the importance of the teacher-student relationship. Do you remember what I said?"
"Loyalty and trust." I answered.
"Yes." He turned to face me, "But the teacher-student relationship isn't just about the student's loyalty to the teacher, it also includes the teacher's protection of the student. If I become your mentor, I have the responsibility to ensure your safety."
I felt a warmth in my chest, this feeling of being protected reminded me of Michael. But Richard's protection felt more... adult-like, more equal.
"But I need to know the whole truth," he continued, "If I am to protect you, I need to know what I'm protecting."
This was a critical moment. I needed to give him enough truth to make him feel trusted, but not say too much that would frighten him.
"Mr. Richard," I stood up and walked in front of him, "I need your promise that whatever I tell you will be kept strictly confidential."
He looked into my eyes. "You have my promise."
I took a deep breath, and then began my performance—half truth, half lies, perfectly blended together.
"On the night Mr. Michael died, we did have an argument." My voice was filled with pain, "But not because I had a conflict with him, but because... of another reason."
"What reason?"
"He discovered one of my secrets." I paused, letting tears gather in my eyes, "About me... when I was twelve, in that fire at the trailer park."
Richard's expression became more focused. "What secret?"
"That fire......" My voice was almost a whisper, "That fire might not have been...... not completely accidental." I let the tears fall, "My father was...... he was drunk again, he wanted to...... wanted to do those things to me. I was scared, I just wanted to run away, but......"
I paused for a long time, as if struggling to find the words, "I remember there was a smell of smoke in the room, maybe he dropped a cigarette, or...... I'm not sure. Everything happened so fast. By the time I realized there was a fire, it was already......"
I saw something complex flash in Richard's eyes—not shock, but something closer to understanding.
"Michael found out about this?"
"He... he found some... some inconsistencies when organizing my files," my voice trembled. "The fire department report had some details that didn't match what I said at the time. When he asked me about it, I... I could only tell him what I remembered." I cried, "I think he might have felt... felt that I was hiding something. He said he needed time to think about what to do."
"And then he had a heart attack," Richard said.
"Yes." My voice was filled with guilt, "I think... I think it might have been because I worried him too much. He was such a good person, Mr. Richard. Knowing that I... knowing what I went through probably felt very heavy for him." I cried, "I keep thinking, if I hadn't told him those things, if I had continued to keep the secret, maybe..."
Richard walked back to the table and sat down. His expression was calm, but I could see he was thinking quickly.
"Emma, are you sure Michael didn't tell anyone about this?"
"I'm not sure," I wiped away my tears, "but if he did tell someone, that person might be reporting to the police right now."
"Or," Richard's voice became more contemplative, "someone found the documents Michael left behind."
This possibility made my blood freeze. I hadn't considered that Michael might have left written records.
"If that's the case," I said, "I really need a good lawyer."
Richard was silent for a long time, then let out a soft sigh.
"Emma, you know what?" his voice became gentle, "Even in the worst-case scenario, you were just a child trying to protect yourself. A twelve-year-old girl facing that kind of... situation, any reaction would be understandable."
"But..." my voice was small, "if they think I... think I did something wrong..."
"Even if there was something 'wrong' about what happened, that would be the instinctive reaction of a victimized child under extreme fear." His tone was firm, "Any rational person would understand this. But you're right, public opinion can be cruel, and the investigation process would be painful. This could indeed affect our family."
My heart sank. Was he suggesting he couldn't protect me?
"However," he continued, his gaze growing profound, "I also see another possibility. A girl who could survive such trauma and grow strong, a girl who knows how to protect herself when necessary, might be exactly the kind of student I need."
I looked at him in surprise. "You mean......"
"I mean, Emma, if your account is accurate, you've demonstrated resilience in surviving extreme adversity." His gaze became sharp, "But the issue now is that this situation could become very complicated. I need more time to assess the risks."
I felt a wave of disappointment, but tried not to show it. "I understand, Mr. Richard. I know this puts you in a difficult position."
Richard pondered for a moment, then picked up the phone. "Jessica? Please connect me with Tom Harrison. Tell him I need to consult on some legal matters."
Tom Harrison was one of the best criminal defense attorneys in New York, I had seen him in the news. He specialized in handling various "complicated situations" for Wall Street elites.
"Harrison? It's me, Richard. I need some advice..." Richard began explaining the situation, but his voice was very low, and I could only hear fragments: "...potential reputation risks...need to assess...protecting family interests..."
When he hung up the phone, he turned to me and said: "Tom will help us understand the specific situation and evaluate all options."
"Are...are you planning to help me?" I asked cautiously.
"Emma," his expression was complex, "I've said that the teacher-student relationship requires absolute trust. But trust takes time to build. For now, I can only say that I won't leave you to face this matter alone and isolated. As for the rest... we'll need to see how the situation develops."
This wasn't the answer I wanted, but at least it wasn't a refusal. I nodded, trying to appear grateful and compliant. "I understand, Mr. Richard. Thank you for being willing to help me."
"Good. Now, we need to clarify another issue." His expression turned serious, "Who is the informant? If we're going to formulate a strategy, we must know where the threat is coming from."
This question made me feel confused and afraid. Who would want to hurt me? When I was at the orphanage, I had always been well-behaved and obedient, never offending anyone.
"I... I really don't know." My voice was somewhat trembling, "At the orphanage, everyone was quite nice to me. I can't think of who would... would do something like this."
Richard carefully observed my expression. "Think about it, Emma. Who knew Michael discovered your secret? Who had the opportunity to access his files?"
I bit my lip, looking puzzled. "Mr. Michael was very careful, he wouldn't tell others casually. But... his office files, perhaps all the orphanage staff could see them?"
"So it's an insider." Richard nodded, "Is there anyone who pays... special attention to you?"
I shook my head, looking confused. "I... I really can't think of anyone. Everyone is very nice to me." I paused, "Maybe I'm overthinking? Maybe it's not targeting me at all, just... just someone who thinks Mr. Michael's cause of death should be reinvestigated?"
My tone was full of confusion and innocence, like a girl unable to comprehend adult malice, even making excuses for potential enemies.
"Emma, sometimes people's motivations are more complex than you imagine." Richard's voice was gentle, "Don't rush to defend anyone now. I'll have Tom conduct an investigation to find out the truth."
"Then what... what do I need to do?" I asked, with helplessness in my eyes.
"Don't do anything for now." His tone was firm, "Don't actively contact anyone from the orphanage, don't try to investigate on your own. Let the professionals handle this matter. Do you understand?"
I nodded obediently. "I understand, Mr. Richard. I won't do anything."
Of course, I wouldn't tell him that I already had my own plan.
For the next few hours, I observed the operations of Wall Street from Richard's office. Everyone here was engaged in some form of warfare—war with the market, war with competitors, war with their own fears. I saw traders making split-second decisions under pressure, executives lying and deceiving for a deal, and how the entire system was built upon calculations of risk and reward.
At noon, Tom Harrison arrived at the office. He was a man in his fifties, wearing an expensive suit, with eyes as sharp as an eagle's. His very presence exuded a dangerous confidence.
"Richard," he shook hands with Richard, then turned to me, "you must be Emma."
"Yes, sir." I stood up and shook his hand with my best ladylike manners.
"Sit down, let's talk." Harrison sat down across from me, "Richard has already explained the basics to me. Now I need to hear your version."
For the next hour, I repeated the story I had told Richard, adding some details, but keeping the basic narrative consistent. Harrison was a good listener, his questions precise and incisive, but not threatening.
"Very good," he said when I finished, "this situation is completely manageable. The key is to control the narrative."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"It means we don't wait for others to define this story. We take the initiative, tell the media and the public the true version." His smile was confident, "A twelve-year-old victim girl trying to escape in fear, while an unfortunate accident took the abuser's life. Then this strong child rebuilt her life through education and with the help of kind guardians. This is a touching story about trauma recovery and second chances."
"But what about the police investigation?"
"I'll handle it." His voice was confident, "I have some friends at the police station. More importantly, I know how to make unfavorable evidence... disappear."
I understood his meaning, although he didn't state it explicitly. In this world, money can buy many things, including justice.
After Harrison left, Richard and I sat alone in the office. The sun outside began to set, bathing the entire room in a golden light.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Like I've been given a new life," I answered honestly, "I don't know how to thank you."
"No thanks needed." He stood up and walked to my side, "This is how the relationship between master and student should be. I protect you, and you are loyal to me. It's an ancient and sacred connection."
When he stood beside me, I felt a strong sense of security, mixed with some more complex emotions. He was more powerful than Michael, more dangerous, and more... attractive.
"Mr. Richard," I said softly, "I think I'm beginning to understand the master-student relationship you mentioned."
He looked down at me, with an expression in his eyes that I couldn't fully decipher. "Yes, I believe you're beginning to understand. But remember, Emma, this relationship requires absolute trust. No secrets, no betrayals, no second chances."
"I understand." I nodded, "I belong to you completely."
That night, when we returned to the apartment, Victoria was waiting for us in the living room. Her expression was complex, showing both concern and something close to approval.
"Is everything taken care of?" she asked.
"Yes," Richard answered, "Emma encountered some troubles from her past, but we've found a solution."
"I'm glad to hear that." Victoria looked at me, "Emma, I hope you know that this family protects its own."
"I know, Lady Victoria." I replied, "I will never forget your kindness."
But when I returned to my room alone, I didn't rest immediately. Instead, I opened my laptop and began searching for information about Susanna West.
If Richard is right and everyone has weaknesses, then I need to find Susanna's weakness.
I started searching through her social media, then public records, news reports, and even the orphanage's internal documents (I still remember the password Michael taught me). A few hours later, I found something interesting.
Susanna West, fifty-two years old, was once the principal of a local public school but lost her job three years ago due to "budget cuts." More interestingly, I discovered some complaint records about her previous position—parents accused her of misappropriating school funds for personal expenses, and although the investigation was inconclusive, this might be the real reason she lost her job.
More importantly, I found that she has an adult son who struggles with severe addiction issues. According to court records, she has paid for his legal fees and rehabilitation treatments multiple times. This explains why she might need extra income.
I recalled some recent conversations—Susanna frequently receiving mysterious phone calls, always speaking in hushed tones. If she truly is the whistleblower, she might not be motivated by a sense of justice, but rather by money.
This discovery gave me a familiar rush of excitement. Information is power, and now I possessed a weapon against her.
I picked up my phone and drafted a text message to Susanna: "Mrs. West, I'd like to talk to you about your son Mark. I may have some information that could help him. Would tomorrow afternoon be convenient to meet? —Emma"
After sending it, I closed my computer and walked to the window. Richard hadn't fully committed to protecting me, but he had given me direction. Now I needed to prove my worth, to show that I wasn't just a girl who needed protection, but an ally worth investing in.
I remembered what Richard had said earlier today: "In the business world, information is a weapon."
Yes, I was learning how to use this weapon. And Susanna West was about to discover that threatening me was a very costly mistake.
I gently caressed the pearl necklace on my neck, remembering Michael's words: "Elena will definitely like you."
Now, I need to make Richard believe this too. Not through tears and pleas, but by demonstrating my abilities and value.
Tomorrow, the real game will begin.
