Beautiful Disaster: Chapters 1–5

Any time now, Marybeth thought. Anytime now, her father would tell her this was all a bad joke—no, a terrible joke—and they'd laugh about it over coffee after she'd scolded him for making her drive all the way across town from her apartment in Sea Point over a stupid prank. But, a minute passed. The punchline never came. And she knew then that the one person she loved the most in the world, the only person she never thought would do her dirty, had gone and done exactly that.

"You can't be serious," she said as she collapsed in the worn, rickety chair at the dining table and held her head in her hands, her messy, carrot-coloured hair falling around her freckled face like leaves burning in the autumn sun. Furious didn't even begin to cover how she felt at that moment. She didn't even brush her unruly hair, let alone take a quick shower, because Danica, her stepmom, called at the crack of dawn, wailing about a life and death situation.

Now, as Marybeth sat there, scowling at the decades-old watermarks on the cheap plywood tabletop, she couldn't figure out which part of this hare-brained scheme was life and death. If she knew this was another one of her father's stuff-ups, she would have hung up on Danica and gone back to sleep. It was way too damn early for anyone to be awake, especially on a Saturday morning.

"Daddy, say something." Marybeth tore her gaze from the stains long enough to glance at her father, unspoken pleas pooling in her eyes.

"Darling—" he began in a smooth-as-honey voice he only used on the job when pulling a con on a mark.

"No!" Marybeth covered her ears, shaking her head in denial as a bewildered whisper shot through her suddenly parched lips. She didn't want to hear that voice. She'd heard it too many times in the past, whilst helplessly watching countless victims fall prey to her father's sweet words. Never in her wildest dreams, though, did she ever think she'd find herself on the receiving end of that voice. Yet, here she was, her father's latest victim, her life about to change forever because he never outgrew his lazy dreams of making a quick buck. And because of his greed, she'd have to head down to the Home Affairs office on Strand Street in exactly three hours and marry a man she'd never met. A man who could be twice her age for all she knew, perhaps a charlatan, or even worse, a hardcore criminal. All three were very real possibilities, considering the company her father kept.

"It's only a year, darling," Danica came in with a softer approach, her periwinkle eyes glistening with fake tears. She wasn't that much older than Marybeth. Eight years older, to be exact. But all the years of hitting the bottle hard were finally showing. She now had a permanently drunk face even when she was sober. Something she readily chalked down to a work hazard, with her being a waitress at Royal Lights, a casino as flashy as its name east of town.

"Seriously, sweetheart—" Danica said again, but quickly shut her trap when Marybeth glared at her.

Gnashing her teeth, she asked, "since it's only a year, why don't you do it?"

"Well, I would, but since your father owes a ton of money, only his most prized possession will do as collateral," Danica repeated what she'd already told her.

"I still don't see how I fit into this," Marybeth said. "I have my own life, you know."

"Yes, but you don't have a man, honey," her father roused to life with his unwanted yet accurate observations. "And you're not getting any younger, Sweet Pea. Your friends are settling down. Some already have babies on the way—"

"I'm only twenty-eight," she reminded him as she stood up and paced around the small kitchen. Twenty-eight was hardly over the hill.

"Yes, I know, honey. But please do this for your sweet old man?"

Marybeth pulled her attention from the window, an incredulous look in her eyes. "Sweet old man? Daddy, you con people for a living! And this whole thing is insane. Why can't you go to the bank and get a loan like normal people? Normal people don't make their daughters marry strangers just to pay off their debts!"

"Lionel's credit score isn't exactly in the green range, you know. And well, no bank will touch me after that card skimming incident, even though I was cleared of all charges," Danica explained as she vigorously ran her hands over her bony arms. Marybeth figured she was going through another withdrawal episode from Tik. She'd lost track of the vicious cycle where her stepmom would be clean for months, and then, without warning, fall back to her old ways, only to try to kick the habit again. It was a painful sight to watch, especially when she was in the withdrawal phase. She'd often scratch her arms or any part of visible skin until she bled.

Marybeth reached up, took her hands and placed them at her sides, stopping her before she could rehash ancient history. Giving her father a side-long glance, she asked, "how much do you owe this man?"

"A lot," he replied.

"Which is?" Her question was met by silence. But she pushed on. "R50k?"

He shook his head.

"A hundred?"

Another head shake, but a little more vigorous this time.

"Oh, my God, Daddy! Don't tell me it's a million rands?"

"Very close," Danica whispered.

"Daddy! What did you do? How the hell did you rack up such a huge debt? And why can't you just tell me the exact amount you owe?" Marybeth silently screamed in her hands as she sat down again, taking too many shallow breaths. She was bitterly confused at how anyone without a steady job or income could be so brazen.

"I'm sorry." It was all he'd say, no matter how long Marybeth sat there demanding full disclosure, and it only pissed her off even more.

Tired of trying to be the only adult in the room, she threw her toys out of the pram, spewing her anger and heartache as she dredged up all the ridiculous things her father had done in the past—from the people he'd hurt with his half-baked pyramid schemes to how his hefty fines had left them living just above the poverty line.

"Sweet Pea, you know I never meant to hurt you, and I wasn't sent to prison for any of those charges."

Marybeth could only snort bitterly at his response. "That's because you always knew how to get yourself out of a tight spot, Daddy. Not because you weren't guilty of your crimes!"

Her father wasn't the luckiest man on the planet, but he sure knew how to use his charm and street smarts to squirm his way out of any trouble and get away with just fines and suspended sentences. His silver tongue had earned him the nickname Slippy. Indeed, he was as slippery as a fish, and Marybeth was tired of his 'act now and think later' attitude. She was exhausted of his small-time crook ways, period.

"You know what?" she said, her voice a few notches above a whisper. "I used to hate Mom. I blamed her for leaving you...for leaving us. But I see now it was the smartest thing she ever did. God, I wish she took me with her!"

"That's not fair—" He didn't get to defend himself. Marybeth scooted out of her chair, turned on her heel, and flew out of the house, banging the flimsy front door hard behind her.

She ran down the short flight of stairs, only remembering she'd left the envelope with her future husband's contact details on the kitchen table when she reached her car in the driveway.

She didn't want to go back in there with her tail between her legs, not after that grand exit. But if she wanted to resolve this matter like a reasonable adult without entering into a lifetime commitment, she didn't have a choice. So she stormed back inside and snatched up the envelope, barely glancing at her father, wailing like a baby on Danica's ample chest.

In the peaceful silence of her car, Marybeth tore through the envelope. An appointment slip confirming her big day was indeed a go fluttered out and fell on her lap.

"Unbelievable!" she said, shaking her head when her eyes fell on the date on the receipt. For some unfathomable reason, her father and Danica had sat on this life-changing piece of information for over a month, choosing to drop their bombshell at the very last minute. Sure, she worked remarkably well under her pressure. But this? This was just plain ridiculous.

If it wasn't so infuriating, it would have been comical. But it was infuriating, and she was heartbroken. Maybe because she didn't see it coming. But then again, the greatest betrayals always came from those she loved the most. Her mother was a stellar example of why she should never trust anyone, especially when they claimed to have her best interest at heart.

She turned the paper over and dialled the phone number scribbled on the back. Her future husband's phone rang for a long time until it cut off. No voicemail prompt. Just her kind of person. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

She called him again. The second try was the charm. A deep, gruff voice drifted through the speaker, spitting out an annoyed, "Hello?"

Underprepared and overwhelmed by everything she'd learned less than an hour ago, Marybeth was momentarily at a loss for words. It didn't help that the man didn't sound nice. Not at all like a reasonable person open to negotiation would be.

"Speak!" he rasped, and in her mind's eye, Marybeth could almost see him pinch the bridge of his beak-like nose, his receding hairline shimmering under the fluorescent light of his dodgy motel room, his beer belly stretching the white cotton fabric of his wife-beater vest.

The mental image was enough to make her puke a little in her mouth. But his harsh words forced all that bile back down.

"Stop breathing on me like a creep and say something!"

Creep? Marybeth bristled in her seat. If anything, he was the biggest and nastiest creep of them all. What middle-aged man in his right mind forced another man to hand over his only child as collateral for a gambling debt?

"Listen here," she said icily, annoyed that she actually had to make this ridiculous call. "This is Marybeth, Lionel Tyson's daughter. The woman you were supposed to marry today."

There was a short pause before the ghoul spoke again, "It took you long enough, I suppose. I was beginning to wonder when you actually planned to contact me."

Seriously? Who the hell was this guy? Could he be any more nonchalant over what was clearly a life-changing event for her?

"Since you're calling me mere hours before our happily ever after, I'm assuming you want to wiggle out of our arrangement?"

"Not to wiggle per se," Marybeth said briskly. "But I was hoping we could reach an agreement without involving Home Affairs?"

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line before he delivered his heavy blow. "I don't do last-minute negotiations. 9:00 AM. Strand Street Home Affairs. I'll see you there."

"No!"

"No?" he mocked in a voice eerily similar to hers. "Do you have any idea how much your father owes me? What he offered as collateral is way below my expectations. But since I'm a reasonable man—"

"Way below your expectations? Reasonable man?" Marybeth screeched. "Which part of marrying a total stranger is reasonable to you?"

He kept quiet, evidently mulling over her question. A glimmer of hope sparked to life in Marybeth's heart. She expected him to agree that this whole arrangement was absurd, and that they should call it a day after coming up with a payment plan for her father's debt. But they were clearly not on the same wavelength. He stunned her yet again with his response. "I think every part of it is reasonable, don't you think?"

Tired of their nonsensical chat, Marybeth got to the heart of her call. "What will it take to make this mess go away?"

"You already know the answer, Beth."

"It's Marybeth!"

"Not in my bed; it won't be!"

What? Marybeth was sure her jaw was on the floor of her KIA Picanto. How did they move from her father's debt to his bed?

"Daddy—" A little girl's chirpy voice tinkled through the phone, zapping Marybeth back to life.

She picked up her jaw from the floor. "You have a child?"

"Why do you think I want to marry you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Beth, I don't know how much of the truth your father has told you. But he owes me a shit ton of money and tried to go back on his word. Now, in my world, a man's word is his honour. You working for me as a housekeeper, childminder, and occasional bedmate is the only offer on the table."

Marybeth swallowed hard as she wiped her clammy hands on her pyjama pants. He didn't sound like a dirty old man now. No, this small glimpse of a decisively forceful man he'd just shown her was the stuff boardroom monsters were made of. Not that she'd seen many boardrooms. The closest to one she'd ever been in was the staffroom at Sea Point Primary, where she taught first-graders. But there was absolutely no reason to show this man she was more than a little intimidated by him. So she cleared her throat and shot out her refusal, praying she didn't sound like a blubbering mess. She had to play it cool. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I already have a fulfilling job of enriching young minds. Cleaning up after you isn't my cup of tea."

"I'm sorry; which part of this conversation made you believe I'm open to negotiation?" The man snickered. The audacity of him! He actually laughed at her, and Marybeth wanted so much to repeatedly slam her phone on the unbearably hot dashboard until the annoying sound of his caustic laugh grating through the speaker died.

"Listen, Beth, I can work around your daytime job. But let me explicitly state this: today is happening. If I have to come over there and get you, I will," he continued, each word of his threat laced with amusement.

Marybeth trembled slightly at the mental image his words had painted. She could totally see him with his band of low-level gangsters turning her father's place upside down and dragging her to the Home Affairs office.

"In case you didn't get the full picture yet, let me remind you that I'm the only thing standing between your father and a 7-by-9 jail cell."

It seemed her future husband wasn't done with his threats, and he sounded like he was having way too much fun backing her into a corner. What the hell did she expect, though? She'd learned from past experience with her father that talking sense into anyone over the phone rarely worked. She should have waited until their appointment and ambushed him then—

"Lionel isn't exactly young anymore." Her soon-to-be husband cut through her thoughts. "And with his cirrhosis so out of control—"

"What cirrhosis?" Marybeth asked in a small, trill voice that belonged to one of her terrified kids on their first day of school. This was her first close encounter with the frightening word, her first time learning her father was gravely ill. What else had he hidden from her?

Feeling like someone had pulled the rug from under her feet, and unable to take in simple puffs of air no matter how long she sat there, coaching her lungs to perform the one function they were designed to do, she couldn't breathe. So she fumbled with the switch on the door and rolled down the window. The hot, humid air was a welcome relief from the cold slab of cement in her chest where her heart should have been—

"He didn't tell you?" The man clucked his tongue, his disdain almost palpable as he continued, not in the least bothered that he'd just upended her world with his totally left-field announcement. "Do you honestly want to risk his well-being by sending him to the prison healthcare system?"

Marybeth bit her lower lip, thinking. Besides the fact that it was a serious chronic condition, she didn't know much about cirrhosis. But, would it be such a bad thing to send her father to prison for his crimes? She'd live peacefully for a few months, maybe years even. No more worrying about what trouble he'd gotten himself into. No more being terrified of answering any late-night call, because her mind always jumped to the frightening conclusion that it was THE CALL—the one that would change her status from a child raised by a con artist single father to an orphan in an instant.

"Beth, I take it you're on board?"

"It's Marybeth!" Or Sweet Pea, as her father, with his numerous secrets, liked to call her when he wanted money or some other favour from her. But she didn't tell this shark of a businessman any of it. She doubted he'd care anyway. He'd already decided on 'Beth'.

What was his name again?

She glanced at the paper in her hand and rolled her eyes.

Austin Hawthorne.

A rather fitting name for a smug-sounding bastard.

"Alright then, Beth. I'll see you at 9:00 AM. Don't be late!" Smug Austin said and promptly hung up, leaving her flabbergasted by the whole thing.

How did she lose the upper hand so badly?

"Ugh!" Marybeth let out a silent scream as she scrunched up the appointment slip into a tiny ball and tossed it at her feet.

"It's only a year. Daddy said it's only a year," she consoled herself as she jumped out of the car.

How hard could cleaning after the man and taking care of his daughter be?

At a high-rise apartment across town in Pelican Surf, north of the Clifton Bay peninsula, with the pristine backdrop of the ocean and the Blue Mountains in the distance, Austin stared at his phone for a moment longer than necessary, since he'd already hung up on his future wife.

He found it laughable that she thought she could weasel her way out of their arrangement on their wedding day. Considering the amount of money her father owed him, she was lucky he'd offered her an all-inclusive vacation, away from her miserable life.

Who in their right mind refused a paid vacation?

Who did Marybeth Tyson think she was?

"Daddy! Who was it?" Orlando touched his arm lightly, demanding his attention as she stared up at him with the sapphire eyes she shared with Iris, the only woman he'd foolishly believed he'd spend forever with. But fate had to brutally rip that crazy notion from him and show him forever didn't exist when she was killed in a hail of bullets four years ago, exactly two weeks before their wedding day and one month before Orlando's second birthday—

"Daddy. Was it the new housekeeper?" Orlando tugged at his arm again, shattering the spell his painful past had long woven over him.

"It's a little more complicated than that, Orly," he said, crouching to her level to pat her wavy brown hair, the only thing she inherited from him. "She's more than a housekeeper."

"So she's not like Mrs Allan?" Orlando asked.

Austin shook his head. After Iris died—his life was now permanently divided into two parts: before and after Iris died—Mrs Allan, his long-time housekeeper, had practically helped him raise his little girl. Now that she'd moved back to Rock Union to be closer to her family, he needed a full-time companion for Orlando. Not a nanny or a helper. But a full-time companion. And that's where Tyson's daughter came in.

Who knew that the bastard begging for an extension on his gambling debt would be a blessing in disguise? And when the old fool offered his only child as collateral to buy himself more time, Austin knew he'd be an idiot to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Surprisingly, despite having a crook for a father, Marybeth's background had come back clean. She was easy on the eyes, too—

"So is she like Elizabeth then?"

Austin shook his head again. As efficient as his assistant was at her job and running his life like a well-oiled machine, he doubted she knew anything about children. Not with that cold and aloof demeanour of hers she wore like a second skin. Marybeth, on the other hand, came with a wealth of knowledge and experience in that department. It helped that she had that comforting, motherly look. The very thing he wanted for his daughter's companion. The very thing his father would be looking for when he met her today after their surprise wedding.

"No, sweetheart, she isn't like Elizabeth. She's a—"

What the hell was she? Austin thought frantically, trying to find the right words to describe his relationship with the woman he was yet to meet.

"A friend?" Orlando offered helpfully.

Austin clapped his hands in agreement, "Yes! That's exactly it! She's a special friend. In fact, you already know her."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do," Austin nodded.

"When? How do I know her? Who is she, Daddy? Tell me, tell me!" Orlando shrieked, anticipation and glee dancing in her eyes.

"It's your music teacher at the Rec Centre—"

Austin had barely finished his announcement when Orlando threw her arms around his waist and squealed her delight. "For real? Ms Tyson, is your special friend?"

He laughed and ruffled her hair. "Yes, she is. And she'll be staying with us for a while."

"How long is a while?" Orlando scrunched up her heart-shaped face as she held his hands and stepped onto his bare feet. "Is it like forever?"

He stopped believing in forever four years ago. But he liked the idea of a long-term solution. As long as he and Marybeth stuck to the terms of their arrangement, with room to have their separate lives if needed, there was no reason why her vacation couldn't be extended to something a little longer than the year her father had promised to pay off his debt.

"Yes, darling, it's like forever." Austin smiled as they began to move around the room in a clumsy father-daughter dance, with Orlando giggling like crazy every time he threw her in the air. He found it cute, but somewhat worrisome, that after three years of dedication to her insanely-priced weekly dance lessons, she still had two left feet.

"Again!" she screeched, her laughter growing louder with each hurl up the air.

"Come on, Squeak, time to get ready," Austin said as he caught her mid-air one last time and set her down.

He knelt in front of her and kissed her forehead. "I have to sign some documents with Marybeth in a few hours."

"What's 'documents'?" Orlando asked, her face aglow with curiosity.

"It's papers that will allow Marybeth to come and live with us for as long as we need her. With Mrs Allan gone, Marybeth will be looking after both of us. But you the most when I have to work late or leave the country. So we have to be good to her, okay, Orly? We must treat her with kindness and respect at all times, alright?"

Orlando bobbed her head quickly and pecked him on the cheek, before dashing to her room to prepare for her ballet class.

"Don't take too long. Neli's mom will be here soon," he called after her.

"Okay, Daddy. I love you!"

"I love you more, Squeak!" Austin said as he headed to his room to prepare for his contract marriage.

He sat on the edge of the bed and leafed through the dossier on Marybeth. He had well over three months to study her when her father put her up as collateral. Of course, three months ago, he had faith in Tyson. He didn't think things would come down to the wire. His life, too, was perfect back then. He had Mrs Allan, and a wife had remained a vague notion at the back of his mind. One he never thought he'd ever have to entertain, because despite pushing sixty, Mrs Allan had a youthfulness about her. Sometimes they'd even joke she was immortal, because she never seemed to age a day, even when the years seemed to hurtle forward at breakneck speeds.

It was all fun and games. Until it wasn't. Until the start of autumn, when Mrs Allan took that nasty tumble down the stairs, and they were suddenly confronted with her fragile mortality. Despite all medical efforts and physiotherapy thrown at her recovery, the doctors had informed them her hip injury would never heal completely, and Austin had to let her go.

It broke his heart—maybe Orlando's more—when they took her to the airport last month and shipped her off to Rock Union.

Now, here he was, about to marry a woman he'd never met, a woman whose existence he wouldn't have known of if it weren't for her father's rotten luck.

Austin could only hope the notes he'd compiled on himself would be sufficient for Marybeth to pass her first test with flying colours when she met his father and the rest of the family after their civil ceremony.

His phone chimed on the bed as he was about to step into the bathroom to shower. He knew without checking it was Tim, his cousin and one of his three capos. No one else ever sent him frantic back-to-back texts.

As his witness-slash-best man, Tim was far more anxious than him, and a simple message confirming he wasn't having second thoughts wouldn't cut it. So, Austin dialled his number. Tim picked up on the second ring, almost as if he'd been watching his phone like a hawk, waiting anxiously for the call.

"It's not too late to call this shit off!" He rasped out as soon as their lines connected. His voice wasn't always hoarse, but years of chain-smoking, sometimes two boxes a day, had finally caught up with him.

"Now, why would I do that?" Austin asked, a little too casually for someone tying the knot with a total stranger in a few hours. "I like Beth. She's perfect for the job."

"Your father won't buy it. You can't suddenly spring this on him. You know he has to vet all the women in the family—"

"That's exactly why Marybeth is perfect. She doesn't have ties to The Corporation. They can't use her as a bargaining chip or pawn in their play for power."

"Austin!" Tim inhaled sharply. "This isn't right. She's innocent. She doesn't belong in our world. She's a teacher, for heaven's sake!"

"How I love the smell of innocence." Austin sniffed the air dramatically and laughed. "Besides, you agreed she's a good fit for Orly—"

Tim cut in sourly. "That was on paper. I said she has all the mothering qualities needed for the job. I didn't think you'd actually go through with it. Listen, Liliana can help you until you find a suitable nanny."

"Liliana's taking too much heat since the Bangkok incident. I can't have cops sniffing around Orly."

"I'll help you then," Tim offered.

"When? How? You hardly have time for Liliana, and we both know you have your work cut out with the De Jagers."

"I still say cut them loose," Tim reiterated his famous plan. "I mean, we all know after Iris, they'll never trust us again. They can't even bring themselves to have a relationship with Orly, and she's their only grandkid!"

"That's because she reminds them of everything they lost. We can't blame them for not wanting to have a relationship with Orly. Iris' death did a number on all of us—"

"Austin," Tim grumbled. "They've been threatening to pull out of the alliance for a while now. We can't work with them if they are constantly indecisive. They need to be all in or get the hell out."

"And you know damn well why we can't let them go. They know too many of our secrets, enough to bring down The Corporation. It doesn't help that they own Rosendal and Waterford. Our casino there won't thrive without their say-so. Tim, I need you to make this mess go away. Find out what it will take to put this nonsense to bed. Their discontent is making the other families antsy," Austin said, sighing in frustration as he sat back down. Sure, it wasn't an ideal union, but he didn't want to talk shop on his big day. "Anyway, I have to get ready. The wedding is happening. And as my right-hand man, I need your buy-in on this. I can't face the family on my own if you're not on board."

"But you know this isn't how we do things. Look at Liliana and me. Do you think I wanted her? Hell, I didn't even want a wife. But it was destiny. Our union was written in blood long before we were born!" Tim ranted one last time and hung up.

"Screw destiny. It's time for some radical transformation," Austin muttered as he stepped inside his bathroom to start his day.

An hour later, Austin and Orlando were ready for their jam-packed day.

He whipped up a quick breakfast for her and sat her down at the kitchen island.

"Aren't you eating?" she asked when he placed a plate of scrambled eggs and whole wheat toast in front of her.

"No," he shook his head, asking from inside the fridge as he scanned the bone-dry shelves, "orange or apple juice?"

"Apple today, please," said Orlando. "Why aren't you eating, Daddy?"

"I'm nervous," Austin confessed, pouring the last bit of juice into her small glass. He dumped the empty bottle in the bin. They really had to go food shopping soon.

"Why?"

"Moving in with someone is a huge decision, Orly, and to be honest, I'm not sure things will go my way," he replied. Sure, he'd talked a good game in hopes of scaring Marybeth and getting her to give in to his demands. But what if she didn't show up? What if she decided she wanted no part of his insane plan and called his bluff? She sounded confident and damn sure of herself when she spoke to him, affirming the stereotype about redheads being hotheaded within the first few minutes of their conversation.

Austin exhaled loudly as he took the empty chair beside his daughter, thinking about the plan weeks in the making. He'd signed tons of business deals in the past. Some legit. And, well, others—no, many of them actually—questionable. But this would be his first time attempting something so radically bold.

If he pulled it off…if Marybeth met him at Home Affairs and agreed to be his wife, he'd add one more impossible feat to his already glowing resumé.

"Daddy, I think Neli's here," Orlando announced when her iPhone 13 Mini blasted out a BTS tune, something about being smooth like butter, on the counter. She checked it, pushed her plate away, and jumped out of her seat.

Sure enough, when Austin strolled to the window in the living room to check, a bright yellow Mini Cooper was waiting on the kerb fifteen stories below.

"Finish your breakfast first," he said when he turned back from the window. But Orlando was already in the living room, slipping into her ballet shoes.

"Fine, grab your stuff, and I'll walk you down," Austin grumbled when it became clear the scrambled eggs he'd made with so much love had lost their appeal, and there was no way his six-year-old would sit still long enough to finish her breakfast. Not when her best friend was already waiting for her.

"I can go by myself. I'm a big girl," Orlando announced proudly as she threw on a pink tutu over her matching leotard and flung her backpack over her shoulder.

"Nice try, Squeak. Even when you're fifty, I'll still walk you down. You know why?" he asked as he picked her up and kissed the top of her head, careful not to disturb her bun. It took them a long time to get it to a state she'd deemed acceptable.

"Because I'll always be your little girl?"

"That's right!" Austin tapped her nose and asked, "do you have your change of clothing?"

"Yep," Orlando nodded.

"Toothbrush and PJs?"

"Uh-huh." She sighed impatiently. "Daddy, you helped me pack everything, remember?"

"Right, of course!" Austin chuckled at her annoyed pout. "Don't forget, Neli's mom will take you guys to the movies after class, and you'll spend the night at their place. I'll pick you up tomorrow, and we'll have lunch with Gramps—"

"I know, I know!" Orlando fussed in his arms. "Can we go now? I don't want to be late."

"Alright, Squeak, are you ready to go on pointe today?"

"It's too soon, Daddy!" Orlando scolded him. "Ms Gracie says it will take me at least another ten years to go on pointe."

"Ms Gracie doesn't know your true potential," Austin told her as he grabbed his phone and checked his wallet, making sure he had his ID card and driver's license.

Satisfied he had his life in order, he looked around the open plan living area one more time, cringing at Orlando's clothes and shoes scattered around the living room and last night's empty pizza box on the coffee table.

He was fantastic at time management and could hold his own when it came to cooking. But housekeeping was definitely not his strong suit. Marybeth had better move in fast, or he'd have to contact Sweep South or another cleaning service as a last resort. The very thought made him break out in cold sweat. He loathed the idea of strangers snooping around his place. The fewer people he had in his house, the better. It was one of the many reasons he'd decided a wife made far more sense than hiring another housekeeper or nanny. A wife wouldn't leave to move closer to her family when she broke her hip. A wife was permanent and would have all the time in the world for Orlando.

While the elevator crept to the ground floor, Orlando kept rattling off all her plans for the day, but she was unbelievably excited for Wednesday's guitar lesson at the Rec Centre.

"I can't believe Ms Tyson is your special friend!" she gushed for what must have been the millionth time since Austin broke the news to her.

"Better believe it, Squeak!" He laughed, pretty pleased with his ingenuity. Sure, in a few hours, there was a real chance he'd have to face the firing squad and account for his recklessness. But he'd gladly take his father's wrath and the family's disapproval any day, just to see the look of pure joy on Orlando's face. It was obvious Marybeth held a special place in her heart.

"Will you come to watch me play?" she asked when the elevator stopped on the sixth floor. A young couple of around sixteen or seventeen sprung in, sticking to each other like glue as they continued their snogfest, never mind that there was a minor in their presence.

Austin placed his hands over Orlando's eyes to shield her from their shenanigans, but she wasn't having any of it. She pushed his hands away and glared at him, oblivious to the horny teens in the corner.

With an earnestness Austin only ever saw in her eyes, Orlando pleaded as she scrunched her face at him. "Pretty please, Daddy? You've never come to my guitar lessons."

"That's because Mrs Allan takes you there."

"Mrs Allan isn't here anymore."

"Right!" Austin nodded, taken aback by her words. He really had to stop thinking about his former housekeeper in the present tense.

"So?" Orlando pushed, refusing to let him off the hook without getting some kind of commitment from him.

Austin sighed. He hadn't factored in a lot of the stuff that Mrs Allan used to do—like the morning drop-offs and afternoon pick-ups, and ferrying Orlando to all her after-school activities.

The past few weeks were a breeze for him, and he managed to fit everything on Orlando's schedule because he took some time off to settle her in after Mrs Allan's exit. But come Monday, he'd be back at work; Royal Lights and Hawthorne Group would require all his focus. He'd never have the time for all five of Orlando's extra murals. But at that moment, as she gazed at him with such hopeful eagerness, he couldn't bring himself to disappoint her. So he gently patted her head, promising he'd make an appearance at the Rec Centre. "Anything for you, Squeak. I'll definitely make a plan."

"Thank you, Daddy!" Orlando screeched and flung her arms around his waist, bolting out of the elevator when the doors slid open on the ground floor.

"Bye. See you tomorrow!" she yelled over her shoulder and skipped off to her friend's car.

Austin waited until she was safely strapped in the back, before strolling to one of the five black Maserati SUVs parked in the tree-lined cul-de-sac.

"Looking snazzy, groom!" Tim said as soon as Austin jumped in the front passenger seat.

"You clean up nicely yourself, best man," Austin replied, punching his arm.

"I wish I didn't have to," Tim confessed as he shoved a cigarette in his mouth and lit it up. "Your father will kill me for letting you go through with this."

"He won't." Austin grinned. "He loves you. We all know you are his favourite."

Tim grumbled under his breath between long drags and puffs of his cigarette, "I still don't understand why it had to come to marriage. Other people hire nannies, Austin."

"Nannies leave. Wives don't." Austin opened his window and flung his hand out, tapping the side of his door in time to the music drifting through the car. "I'm doing this for Orly."

"Yeah, but that poor woman didn't sign up for this life. She doesn't know what she's getting herself into."

"That 'poor woman' should have kept her old man on a leash. He's a menace!" Austin retorted, refusing to feel bad for Marybeth and Lionel Tyson. Even the Bible said the sins of the father shall be visited upon the children.

"That's not fair. She seems like a nice girl. Her class loves her, and the teachers at Sea Point Primary speak highly of her," Tim said as he steered the car through the morning traffic.

"And that's why she'll make the perfect companion for Orlando," Austin repeated what he'd been saying since he came up with his brilliant plan, his irritation levels creeping up. When he first brought up the idea, Tim agreed Orlando needed a stable woman in her life. Liliana, with all her good intentions, helped out where she could. But as the daughter of a crime family, there was only so much she could do for Orlando when she was constantly harassed by cops.

He and Tim knew how to protect his little girl. But there were things only a woman could teach her. Austin would never admit it, but ever since Iris died, he knew there was a void in Orlando's life that only a mom could fill. So for his cousin to second-guess him at the eleventh hour was a little annoying, to say the least.

"I'm just saying full disclosure is needed here. Tell Marybeth upfront about the family so she can make an informed choice," Tim carried on.

Austin lost his patience, shutting up his second-in-command with his annoyed growl, "That's enough! Marybeth will have very little to do with the family. She doesn't need to know more than what's required for her safety, which I'll handle!"

"Your call." Tim took another long drag from his cigarette, snuffed it out and threw it out the window.

"Can you not?" Austin growled.

"What?"

"Throw that shit out of the window. It's bad for the environment."

Tim rolled his eyes. "You kill people for a living, and you're worried about the environment?"

"I don't see how that's relevant!" Austin retorted and glared out of his window.

They drove in silence for a long stretch and listened to a raging debate on the radio about the eTolls in Rock Union and the upcoming trial of the serial arsonist charged with starting the fire in Parliament a few weeks ago.

"Look, I'm sorry," Austin said after a kilometre or so of tension swirling in the car. "And I'll disclose as much as I need to after the ceremony."

Tim nodded and took his hands off the steering wheel long enough to reach for another cigarette from his breast pocket. He was really anxious if he was going for his second in less than ten minutes.

Austin watched him stick it between his lips and light it up with a shiny silver lighter he always kept in his glove compartment. It was one of the few things his father took from the crime scene when Tim's parents were killed in an apparent hit years ago.

"She seems nice," Tim said again as he inhaled the smoke and released it in measured breaths. "Too bad her father's scum. In another life, if she wasn't dealt such a raw deal, I really think..."

Austin tuned him out and stared at the familiar scenery zooming by. He loved the coastal town with all his heart. It was the perfect place to raise a little girl. But traffic, no matter the time of day, was the only thing he could do without. As for Marybeth, he didn't give a flying fish about her. In a little over an hour, she'd just be his wife in name only.

"Did you confirm with Friar John if he can make it?" he asked as he checked his emails on his phone.

"He wasn't thrilled this was dropped on him at the last minute. But he's on the way to the venue. Liliana managed to twist someone's arm and secure a private room for the rites. The Home Affairs clerk will officiate the ceremony immediately after that, and lunch with the family will be at The Windmill Hotel."

"How many people?"

"Everyone will be there. They can't wait to hear the big announcement."

"Good." Austin nodded, but he was barely paying attention. His mind was fixated on the email from Gold Rush's security team. A rogue gambling syndicate had taken up residence at the casino. Despite all efforts to rein them in, the crew seemed to grow bolder with each jackpot they nabbed. Austin gritted his teeth, annoyed beyond words at this little inconvenience. It seemed he'd have to drive down to the Blue Mountains to shut this shit down himself.

"Everything okay?" Tim gave him a sidelong glance.

"No." Austin leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. "That damn syndicate at Gold Rush is running amok. I have to drive down there soon and take care of it."

"Then what's Blake's job?"

"Beats me," Austin shrugged and pinched his nose. Blake was two years older than him, but as inept as a blunt knife, and sometimes he wondered if they were even related.

If Blake couldn't take care of a simple problem like a small-time gang, how could he be expected to oversee all their security needs? A weak security branch was terrible for business and The Corporation.

There were a few soldiers—men who'd gone above and beyond to prove their loyalty to the family—who would do a way better job running the security branch. Structural reform was needed, and tough decisions had to be made soon, Austin decided as he sent a text to the group chat, informing everyone of the family meeting immediately after lunch.