Classic Novel
Chapter 12
Daniel narrowed his eyes, a hint of suspicion cooling his previously heated demeanor. “Sherman, don’t you think she might be drawing your attention? I mean, how could a young woman like that have such incredible gambling skills? And Anthea’s nothing but a trust fund princess with no real accomplishments to her name.”
Daniel had never been fond of Anthea, and his current thinking wasn’t unusual, given his low opinion of her. Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g
“Everything that happened tonight at the Morris Mansion is a setup.” Daniel continued, “Everyone in Cloudcrest knows what Anthea’s really like! But tonight, she’s acting like a different person. Wherever we go, there she is. It must be her setup.
“Let’s head back,” said Sherman, idly twirling his rosary beads, his expression unreadable.
Daniel quickly fell into step behind him.
Sherman Christensen’s family hailed from Cloudcrest twenty–five years ago.
Twenty–five years ago, the Christensen family moved from Cloudcrest to Capital City.
Twelve years back, when the family patriarch, Latham Christensen, died unexpectedly, eighteen–year– old Sherman took up the mantle. He had stirred up a storm in the Capital City with his remarkable business acumen, cultivating his power base and propelling the Christensen family to become the premier dynasty in Luxphinia.
Even the most respected figures in the Capital City would tip their hats and respectfully address him as Mr. Christensen.
Aged thirty, Sherman sat at the pinnacle of power, at the very top of the pyramid.
As a reclusive character with eccentric habits, Sherman seldom showed interest in women and often frequented churches.
Karen worried that her son might forsake worldly life for the church thing and threatened to take her own life. The act brought the family back to Cloudcrest to honor a marriage, arrangement with the Morris family.
Sherman and Rebecca had engaged since childhood, but with the Christensen family residing in Capital City for many years, the two families had lost touch.
Their return to Cloudcrest had been discreet, with no one the wiser.
Downstairs, the gambling continued unabated.
“Sweetheart, which number should we bet on next?” Nanson asked, and his term of endearment for Anthea had changed without him even realizing it.
He thought, “My niece is really something!”
“Let’s call it a night. It’s time to go home,” Anthea declared. There was a time for everything,
11:18
and a gambling house was no place to push one’s luck too far.
Nanson was riding high and didn’t want to leave, but seeing Anthea turn to go, he hurried after her. “Wait up, sweetheart!”
As they exited the casino, a sleazy middle–aged man, flanked by a group of thugs, blocked. Anthea’s path.
“Hey, gorgeous, our boss Bob would love to treat you to some late–night grub.”
Anthea lifted her eyelids lazily, ready to flex her muscles, when a figure dashed toward them at breakneck speed. Kicking the leader in the chest, he positioned himself protectively in front of Anthea, hands on hips. “How dare you mess with my niece! You looking to get run out of town or what?”
Bob, the man who got kicked, winced in pain and was about to curse when he realized who his assailant was. “Nanson, you just said you didn’t know her, right? If I’d known she was your niece, I wouldn’t dare to…”
Just moments ago, he’d claimed not to know her, but suddenly, out of the blue, they were family!
Men could lie as effortlessly as they breathed!
Nanson stood tall, hands still on his hips. “Cut the crap! She’s my niece, Anthea, and you’ll apologize to her. Now!”