Louise: A New Beginning

BOOK TWO

LOUISE:

A NEW BEGINNING

BY DIANA NIXON

ISBN-13: 978-1530987863

ISBN-10: 1530987865

Copyright © 2016 by Diana Nixon

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cover design by Jennifer Munswami

(J. M. Rising Horse Creations)

Edited by Heather Anne Davis

(Summary)

Life is not always easy. Especially when you are in love with the man whose life is so much different from yours. Power, money, respect – these are the things that a girl raised in an orphanage can only dream about. But sometimes, love is the only power that you need to get whatever you wish for…

Louise Woods had always been a fighter. She had known since childhood that everything has a price. But freedom was the only thing that she could never have.

Living in a world of lies and betrayal, will she sacrifice her love to become finally free?

Or will she let her heart win?

A new journey full of passion and forbidden dreams; it’s a new dance, it’s a new life.

“We will start it all from the very beginning, from the very first kiss…”

New York, 2005

William

I was terribly late for a meeting with my father. I looked down at my watch and sped up, twisting my way through the crowd flooding the train station.

Today was the day that I had been waiting for, and I had been waiting for it for ages; it was the day my biggest dream was going to come true; the day when I was going to become my father’s official deputy.
Finally.

For as long as I could remember, I wanted to be like my dad – a strong and successful man, whose every word was an order. When I was a kid, I used to think that every man who wore a suit and a tie was
‘a walking letter of the law’.
I smiled to myself, looking down at the outfit I was wearing today – my very first tailored suit that somehow felt like it was borrowed. I was not me, but a stranger, who was so much wiser and infinitely more clever than the real William Blair. I didn’t feel like a walking letter of the law, not just yet. I still felt like a small boy, unsure whether I was ready to do the things that my family expected me to do; it didn’t feel like this was
the
day, I was still dreaming my big dreams, and hoping they would be real eventually.

The funny thing about this whole scenario was, until this very moment, I never thought about the power of dreams – one of the most exciting and mysterious things in the world. Dreams are like short stories that our hearts and souls write for us. They make people do wonderful things: motivate us, make us see things that we never even knew existed, in short, they change us.

They changed me. . .

The first time I went to my father’s office, I was just a ten-year-old boy. His office was situated in the Empire State Building, one of the world’s tallest skyscrapers. I stood in the lobby with wide eyes. It looked like a whole new world to me. No one paid any attention to the kid wandering around by himself, until one of the security guards walked over to me, saying, “It’s a great day for an excursion, isn’t it, young man?” He was dressed in a dark-blue uniform, with a small badge hanging from the pocket of his shirt; according to his ID, his name was Milton. He was probably around twenty, maybe older.

“I don’t know, Sir,” I said, looking up at him. “Do people come here for excursions?”

“All the time.”

“I’m here on business,” I said, aiming the camera I was holding at one of the enormous stained-glass windows. I loved photography, and always took my camera with me. It was a gift from my father, it was my precious
‘toy’
, and the best present I had ever received from anyone. Back then, I was sure photography would be my life, but life is known for having plans of its own...

“Oh, really?” The guy smiled down at me, as if he thought I was joking. “Do you have a meeting here, or what?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m here to see my father.” I looked at the picture I had taken on the screen of my camera, nodded in approval, and then turned the camera off.

“And who is your father?”

“Randal Blair,” I replied, feeling a sense of pride.

The guy’s eyes widened. “Oh. . . I see. . .” Obviously, the name rang a bell. “Did you come here alone? Or are you here with your mom?”

“Our driver, Christopher, brought me here. He told me to go to the fifty-third floor and ask the secretary to accompany me to my father’s office.”

“Okay, why don’t I walk with you? You know, to make sure that you don’t get lost.” He smiled again, wider this time. I bet I was the first kid that Milton could remember coming here, all alone, and saying that I was here on business.

I shrugged indifferently. I was sure I was grown up enough to find my dad’s office on my own, but I didn’t want to be rude to Milton, and so I agreed. After all, it was his job to keep the building and the people within it safe.

“Nice camera,” he said, waiting for the elevator to open on the floor we needed. “You like photography, don’t you?”

I nodded, smiling. “I love it.”

“I thought you would be the one to replace your father when he retires, wouldn’t you?”

I frowned, not sure how to respond. “He never told me I was expected to follow in his footsteps.”

“But I’m sure that is exactly what he wants. Wait until you grow up, you will want it too.”

Uh, if only Milton had known his premonition would come true one day. . .

“Here we are, Sir,” he said, as the elevator stopped and the door opened into a spacious hall. “Kate!” He called out to a girl with red hair, sitting at the crescent-shaped desk. “Mr. Blair’s son is here to see him.”

She nodded, stood up, and walked towards us, smiling brightly at Milton. They were probably the same age, and I could see that Milton was glad to see Kate. I assumed she was the actual reason behind him walking me upstairs.

“William, right?” Kate asked, coming to me. “Your dad is waiting for you. Follow me please.”

But before I did as she said, I turned to Milton and wished him a good day.

“Hope you will like it here, Sir,” he said in response.

And I did like it, so much I couldn’t stop talking about that day for the next couple of weeks. I would sit and wait for my dad to come home in the evening, just to ask him everything I could possibly think of about the company and how it worked. After some time I realized that Milton was right, my father did want me to follow in his footsteps, and even though I was still crazy about photography, I could easily imagine myself sitting in his huge leather chair one day. . .

And today, I was about to get one step closer to that big dream coming true. I never openly said that it had been my dream since I was ten. I graduated from school, took photography classes in Paris, which I must admit I enjoyed a lot, but deep down inside all I wanted was to become
him
– the man that I was so proud to call my father.

I still felt the excitement that I felt the day I crossed into my dad’s office for the first time, almost ten years ago. Only today, it went along with fear, the fear of not being able to meet his expectations, the fear of failing.

No one could see how nervous I was. The crowd around me was too busy thinking about their own problems. I didn’t blame them. I was one of them, with my own life to worry about.

Suddenly, something caught my attention. I looked closer and saw a small red light flashing on the floor, just a few feet away from me. I slowed down, hoping it was not what I thought it was. Then I walked closer and stopped dead in my tracks.

Impossible
, I thought to myself. I looked around carefully, but no one seemed to care about a little girl, sitting on a piece of cardboard, with an iron bracelet, locked around one of her ankles. There I saw the red light, the light that said it all – the girl belonged to
Paradise
, the worst place in the world, or rather
Hell on Earth
for kids or anyone else to ever cross its threshold.

I swore quietly to myself. I knew way too much about
Paradise
to believe that the damn bracelet, AKA tracker on the girl’s ankle was just a flashing piece of jewelry. It was her curse, her cruel reality that she couldn’t change. . .

I remembered the day my father told me about
Paradise
. He told me it was an orphanage, and that he had grown up there. He had said it wasn’t like other orphanages where parents left their kids because they didn’t want them. It was a place where secrets were supposed to be kept, and by secrets, I mean illegitimate children of famous and powerful people whose lives would be complicated by the existence of said child, and that child was never supposed to be born in the first place. In
Paradise
they tracked every step the kids made, and when they were old enough to leave, they let them go, so they could live the lives they wanted for themselves. But only a few were actually able to survive the cruelty of the outside world. Only a few managed to become whoever they wanted to be. And they never ever were allowed to know who their biological parents were. Most of them thought their parents were dead.

The girl on the train station was around ten, twelve maybe. She was wearing a dark coat, all torn and dirty. She was shaking visibly, shoving her hands deeper into her pockets. No doubt, she was freezing. My first thought was to take her away from the station, give her food, and buy her new clothes. But then, I remembered what my father told me about the rules of
Paradise
, and changed my mind. The girl was not allowed to talk to strangers, and I was not allowed to help her; she would get into trouble because of me.

But there was something about the look in her eyes that wouldn’t let me go – it was searching and naïve, but so full of hope. She looked down at her empty hat, lying next to her crossed feet and sighed. No one would stop and give her a penny.

I knew I needed to do something, anything to help her, but I just didn’t know how to do that and to not cause any problems for her. I moved forward, watching the girl carefully. I didn’t want to frighten her. And even though I was in a hurry, I couldn’t just leave without talking to her first.

I took my wallet out of the pocket in my jacket, opened it, and took out a hundred dollar bill, hoping to brighten up the girl’s mood. I put the bill into her hat, and waited. At first, I thought she didn’t see me. Then she turned her head towards the hat on the ground and gasped quietly. I smiled. I bet I was one of a few, if not the only person to ever give her so much money.

“Thanks,” she said, looking up at me. There was so much light in her green eyes, as if they were illuminated from the inside.

I smiled down at her. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Louise,” she replied after a short pause. She and I both knew that she was not supposed to talk to me, and I was suddenly so proud of her small attempt to demonstrate how brave she was.

Little fighter
, I thought to myself. I don’t know why, but I somehow knew she was not like the other kids from
Paradise
. The boundless excitement that I could see in her gaze gave away so much more than she knew. Pure happiness was written all over her gentle features. No doubt, she still hoped she would have a better life, a different life, full of joy, and things that the kids from her orphanage could only dream about.

My heart sank at the thought of leaving her at the station. She looked so small, so fragile. Not even her oversized coat could protect and warm her.

“Louise,” I repeated quietly. “What a beautiful name.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Thanks,” she mumbled, lowering her eyes to her hands. Her gloves were covered in holes and looked like she had been wearing them for hundreds of years or even more, no matter how impossible it was, considering her young age.

“Here, take my gloves,” I said. “Yours don’t look good.”

She hesitated, looking around carefully, obviously afraid that someone from
Paradise
might see her talking to me and accepting my small gift. 

“Take them, you need them more than I do.”

She nodded and took the gloves.

“You are not going to spend my hundred on sweets and ice-cream, are you?” I know she would never do that, even if her evil mentors let her keep the money.

“I’ll buy myself a new scarf,” the girl said, surprising me with her words. She hid the money deep into her pocket and looked around again. But there were too many people around us, and no one cared what she was doing.

“You have enough to buy yourself a new jacket as well,” I said.

“I will follow your advice, Sir.”

I nodded, and then looked at my watch again. “I need to go now. Will you promise me something?”

“Anything,” she said, again surprising me with her bravery.

“Don’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Have a great day, Louise.”

“You too, Sir.”

I started to walk away, then I stopped and turned around to look at her one last time.
I will find you, Louise
, I said to myself.
I promise you that.

***

I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl I met at the station. She said her name was Louise, and for me, it sounded like a name from a different universe, or maybe it was just because it belonged to her. She was somehow special, different from anyone I had ever met in my life – a little angel living in hell, but hoping to gain wings one day and fly far away where no one and nothing could ever hurt her.

The first thing I did when I met up with my father that day was ask him about
Paradise
.

“Is there any possible way to take her out of there?”

“I don’t think so, Son. We can’t help her. Even if she was sent there by accident, I mean, even if her parents are not paying to keep her there,
Paradise
never allows its children to leave before they turn eighteen. It’s one rule that cannot be broken.”

“Do you think they will let me see her again? I’d like to do something for her, maybe buy her new clothes.”

“Well, you can try talking to their headmaster. But I seriously doubt it will change things. Kids from
Paradise
are only allowed to have the life that the place offers them, no more than that.”