Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
*****
Disclaimer:
All characters are 18 years of age or older while actively engaging in sexual activity. This story is an offshoot of my
ongoing
story, Mike & Karen. While not completely necessary, being familiar with that story (and Alex & Alexa) will no doubt help mightily. Reviews are welcome; flames will be snickered at and deleted with extreme prejudice by my webmaster. Enjoy!
***
Chapter III -- A Grim Family Tradition
2013: Quebec City ...
Karen sat at the table quietly, her hands folded in front of her as she looked down the row of faces, so familiar to her, and yet so alien in so many ways. Yes, they were her family members, and they shared many features and traits, but she couldn't help but feel like she was looking at an entirely different species sometimes.
The Blackwells were an ancient family, able to legitimately trace their roots as far back as the Plantagenets, that royal line of genetic fighting monsters who had bloodied so much of Christendom and made it the crucible of the conquering impulse. Famous names such as Richard, Coeur de Lion, Edward the Black Prince, and even Lancasters such as King Henry V could be counted as ancestors of her family. Even if that royal blood had died out, the breeding remained, as did the remarkable intelligence and ruthless ambition of those bygone days.
The earliest confirmed Blackwell ancestor, Benedictus de Blakewell, had been in the Assize Court Rolls of the thirteenth century in Derbyshire, although even earlier references to people named Blackwell were cited in the Domesday Book of William the Conqueror.
She'd seen so many images of those fabled men and women from centuries past, and wondered how much her own kin would look like them today. The Blackwells were usually very distinct, with patrician features, sharp
and
pale blue eyes, and ash-blond hair. They were preternaturally gifted at almost anything they set their minds to, although the trend over history seemed to have been mercantile endeavours, for which they showed great aptitude.
And yet, the family history had always been a turbulent one, with infighting and treachery not uncommon among its members. For as long as stocks and shares had been the cornerstone of western economics, the Blackwells had rigidly remained a series of private, interconnected companies. Other ventures often went public, to expand their revenues, but often fell prey to the whims of folly and misfortune. If the Blackwells' companies failed, it was strictly their own fault.
To this day, this tradition had held true. Against most modern common sense, Blackwell Industries was wholly private, no matter how many times people had tried to buy out all or part of it. Very strong and complex internal rules prevented family members from selling their shares or interests externally, to prevent others from getting inside. If a family member wanted out, they were bought out by the central reserve, their shares and interests added back into the pool for other uses.
Karen wondered how a family could be so very clannish on one hand, and so treacherous toward its own on the other. It was a balancing act every single chairman had needed to master in order to avoid disaster. Some had proven more adept than others, and the effects were telling.
At the head of the table, some distance away from her, Jonathon Blackwell sat in his wheelchair, looking coldly down the length of ancient, inlaid wood. Karen sat a good distance away from her father for a number of reasons, the two primary ones being that she had no wish to make it look like nepotism was involved, but also because her shares in the company were laughably small, to the point of being insignificant. Her presence here was mostly based on her being his daughter, and possessing a keen intellect that none could match, even if none would admit it.
It was foolish to think Jonathon Blackwell would be inclined to simple nepotism, since everyone was well aware of his intolerance for, and aversion to, incompetence. If Karen or anyone else displayed the least bit of ineptitude, they had no place at this table. Only the worthy sat here, making decisions for the family. No, he would have kept his daughter out quite readily if she'd had no head for business. He had an empire to run.
And today, someone had challenged his rule.
Felix Addison-Blackwell, one of Karen's cousins, had made some ridiculous power play, trying to use her father's infirmity against him as a reason to remove him from his position as chief executive and chairman. Yes, Jonathon Blackwell was dying, slowly, and it was known that he was given to bouts of anger, but his mental state was undeniable. Felix's play had been a fast one, but Karen had subtly tipped her father off that something was afoot, and he'd brought the coup to a crashing halt.
Felix sat quietly in his chair, looking at the table. He was sitting opposite Karen, and she could see the humiliation in his eyes. He knew what was coming. He'd been treacherous. Worse still, he'd been sloppy, and he failed. And that was unforgivable.
"What a damnable nuisance," Jonathon said finally, his voice carrying the weight of conviction and more than a little irritation. "All of us, brought here to deal with this idiotic crisis. Have centuries taught you people
nothing
?"
Except for Karen, nobody was looking at Jonathon, because very few people anywhere could meet his gaze. Most of them were scowling at Felix, in fact, because this had indeed turned out to be a stupid play on his part. She could see her father controlling his temper, noticed the trembling in his hands as they rested on the arms of his wheelchair.
"What, Felix, were your grand intentions if you happened to convince everyone to wrest control of the company from me, hm?" the patriarch asked, his eyes flashing. She doubted that anyone, aside from herself or her mother, had ever seen warmth in them. Paler and colder than glaciers, they were merciless to anyone who crossed him. "Tell us, man! What was worth all this?"
Sitting next to Jonathon, on the right corner edge of the table, Karen's cousin Rodney seemed not at all perturbed by the proceedings, but looked at the ceiling with an expression that fell somewhere between boredom and amusement. After all,
he
was not the one called out for treachery and incompetence.
Karen
had
always considered Rodney the most insufferable and arrogant of her generation of Blackwells, but he wasn't stupid, either. Nothing on earth would convince him to underestimate his uncle Jonathon. Karen would never know if Roddy had been buying into Felix's scheme, but if he'd done so, it was no doubt with the intention of supplanting him soon after.
The only person Rodney underestimated, to his detriment, had been her husband, Michael. And Rodney had never forgiven her for it. The arrogant sot just looked at the ceiling, twiddling his thumbs to demonstrate that was confident and in the clear here.
"Well?" Jonathon asked again, looking directly at Felix. The disgraced businessman said nothing, but went a deeper shade of pink as he kept staring at the table.
"Perhaps you wanted to be king," Jonathon sneered. "Maybe you think that's what this position means, hm? Sitting atop vast reserves of wealth, using them as your own private piggy bank, is that it? Are you really fool enough to believe that's how this family has operated for centuries? Have you never
once
gone into the archives and opened a damned book?"
Karen could tell that her father's temper was getting the better of him, but she had no way from down the table of subtly gaining his attention and calming him. He would have ignored her anyway. It wasn't only her mother she'd inherited her stubborn streak from.
"Treachery to one's family is bad enough, Felix, but what I cannot abide by is incompetence!" her father almost shouted now, and she could tell some of her family members were getting nervous. Only Rodney and her uncle Alistair seemed unfazed by the patriarch's increasing anger. "How
dare
you sully our name with your damned foolishness?!"
Jonathon slammed his bony hand on the ancient wood table, his blue eyes blazing. "Unforgivable! How will it look when word of this gets out?
'Blithering idiot attempts coup inside Blackwell Industries.'
How's
that
for a headline in the financial papers?"
Roddy almost guffawed, but caught himself and went back to smirking. He seemed to be enjoying this. Felix went redder still.
"If you had made a legitimate challenge to my status in this room, I might have respected that," Jonathon said coolly, seeming to rein in his temper somewhat. "But your underhanded ploys fell beyond the scope of your competence, and caused a crisis in several of our companies. Must ambition always walk hand-in-hand with stupidity in your branch of the family?"
"It would've been just as well to see a chairman who could walk at all, for once," Felix sneered finally, turning his face toward Jonathon.
Dead silence hung over the room. The Blackwells could have heard a pin drop, and Karen would have sworn she could hear hearts beating. Had Felix really said that? Jonathan Blackwell's body was failing him, and he'd been confined to a wheelchair for over three years now.
Only Karen was looking at her father. No one else dared. Even Rodney understood the extraordinary danger of the moment and was suddenly looking at some distant point on the far wall, not a trace of a smirk on his normally insufferable face. But Karen watched her father, saw him processing what Felix had said, and what it meant. Felix had spoken the words of a doomed man, someone who thought he had nothing to lose, even in insolence. And even Jonathon Blackwell seemed taken aback, although only she recognized it.
What would her father do? This was not just a challenge, this was a direct insult to his very dignity, singular and malicious in its intent. She'd never heard anything like it in all her times here in this room, the seat of Blackwell power throughout the family empire.
Slowly, deliberately, Jonathon Blackwell put his hands on the arms of his wheelchair, but his eyes remained locked on Felix's. And then, to everyone's amazement, he began pushing himself upright, slowly but smoothly into a standing position. Even Karen watched in shock as her father rose, eventually standing straight as an arrow, and looking down his aquiline nose at the lowly being who had insulted him.
Once again, the room was dead quiet.
