Charlie had always hated the house. They called it a villa but Charlie figured that was just to make it sound more pretentious. The whole thing was designed to intimidate and impress. It wasn't a home, no one could feel at home in such a monstrosity. Charlie would sometimes go online an look at housing listings in the suburbs and the countryside. She dreamed of living in a house small enough that it didn't need a full time staff to keep up. She imagined living in a neighborhood where people would just stop by and you would say hi to them while mowing the lawn. Simple things. This house was a gilded display cage.
As the gates closed behind her Charlie knew she was caught. She started counting on the inhale and exhale again in part of a futile effort to control the rapid beating of her panicked heart. From beneath her lashes her eyes flicked around the car desperate for some reassurance or at least a friendly face but she saw nothing. No one. She was alone, she had always been alone.
The men at her sides kept her sandwiched between them as the CEO of the Monroe group lead them up the steps to the front door. His cashmere coat flared as he nearly jogged up the steps. He was full of confidence and power where as Charlie felt like each step was leading up to the gallows. She would have lingered had she been allowed but each of the two men at her sides had a hold of one of her arms and they dragged her forward. The gentleness of their implacable grips contrasted sharply with Charlie's state of mind. They seemed to take so much care to prevent her from coming to any harm while leading her to her destruction.
Tiffany, never one to miss a chance to leave a positive impression, opened the door before Mr. Monroe had a chance to ring. She deliberately ignored the man and ran to Charlie with fake tears and concern beautifly painted across her face. It should have been impossible for her to fool anyone, real emotions are ugly.
"Oh my dear Charlotte!" Tiffany cried, "We were so worried! Are you okay?" Tiffany's hand snaked its way around Charlie's waste throwing off one of the two men holding her. She pulled Charlie toward her making nose about how worried they were while viciously pinching Charlie's waist.
Charlie expected some sort of actions so she didn't flinch, but she didn't tear up like Tiffany wanted either, so the stepmother pinched harder. Charlie gritted her teeth and fought to keep her face blank but she could feel tears threatening, not because of pain, but because of anger. Tiffany smiled. She had her tearful reunion.
"Mr. Monroe," Charlie's father gripped the CEO's hand with tight sincerity in the obligatory handshake, "Thank you so much for bringing our Charlotte back to us."
Tiffany wiped her eyes and hustled everyone, including the two men who were still guarding Charlie, into the house. She was keeping her arms around Charlie and touching and petting her constantly, as if she couldn't bare to let the girl go. In reality the woman was keeping her under control. And, when she leaned in to whisper things in the girl's ear, it was threats and not endearments that were murmured.
Charlie's father, Roger, lead the group to the formal sitting room. Like the rest of the monstrosity of a house it was designed to impress rather than to be a functioning living space. There were grand paintings, lesser works of famous masters or major works of the less famous. A massive fireplace took pride of place against one wall. The furnishings looked appropriately antique and were expectedly uncomfortable.
Sometimes, when Charlie was forced to attend some event or other in the formal sitting room, she would fantasize about how she might redesign the room. The oppressively dark woodwork should be redone with a lighter finish, the heavy ornate curtains replaced with something lighter that only framed the windows themselves and maybe a couple sheer panels.
Nothing could make the room 'homey' but it could be lightened and made more welcoming. As it stood it felt like it belonged in a different era. The Callahan's had built it in Charlie's grandfather's era. They had wanted it to look like the old estates of families with more established lineages. But, it would only ever be an imitation.
Charlie was dragged to a sofa by her stepmother who continued to cling to her like a persistent ailment. Her father invited Mr. Monroe to sit down across from them before joining his wife in pretending to care about his daughter.
The normal pattern of host and guest was followed with tea and refreshments offered and delivered in good time. And the general greetings and nonsense followed. Of course, they were peppered with comments on how 'worried' and 'grateful' the parents were that their 'dear Charlotte' had been returned unharmed.
Charlie tuned them out. She pretended to take sips of tea and played with some pastries when her stepmother threatened but in her heart she was despondent. She felt strangely empty inside. There was something screaming that there should be more here. That the man in the charcoal suit shouldn't have been the type to betray her in this manner. She had been so sure that she was able to trust him. Perhaps this whole thing was only a dream but she had given up on hope.
Eventually Mr. Monroe and the Callahan's retreated to Mr. Callahan's study for a private conversation. Charlie initially attempted to leave, but her babysitters were still present and they didn't allow it. She instead stared at the wall and lost herself in an labyrinth of dark thoughts.
"We truly are very grateful for what you have done for us Mr. Monroe." Tiffany began as she closed the study door. Saul nodded and they sat again in yet another hideously decorated room.
"My wife is right," Roger Callahan reached out to hold Tiffany's hand affectionately, "There must be something that we can do to thank you."
Saul tapped a finger against the armrest of the ugly, imitation antique chair he was seated in. He eventually waved a dismissive hand. "It was nothing, there is no need." He felt like he was playing a massive game of chess. He was trying to calculate the responses of everyone around him.
"How on earth did you find her?" Mrs. Callahan asked. As Saul had predicted Tiffany was skeptical. Again Saul paused briefly stretching things out knowing that silence made most people feel uncomfortable.
"I have some... interesting connections..." He sipped the lemon water they had brought him, "Those connections contacted me when they encountered the girl."
"It is always good to have connections," Roger Callahan said, "You never know when you might need them."
"Where did they find her?" Tiffany asked a bit too sharply. She apologized immediately claiming something about being worried about who took her and what kind of danger she was in.
"That part was rather strange. She was alone. There was no sign that she was in danger. In fact according to my connections she seemed to have... simply run away." Saul baited the hook and cast the line. He kept his face calm and unexpressive as if it didn't matter the slightest.
Silence stretched through the room.
"I was curious of course. The Amber Alert system has very specific requirements."
"Mr. Monroe," Tiffany began apologetically, "I know that you don't have any children. You can't imagine the panic that we felt. Any parent would use anything in her power to bring her child back."
On the surface, it was true. Parents would do anything they could to bring their missing child home. But the Callahan's had never seen the girl as their own child. Saul doubted that Tiffany was capable of feeling true compassion. He had been briefly acquainted with her during his college days. She had always been an exceedingly brilliant business woman, but being brilliant when it came to business required a certain amount of ruthlessness. It was always a struggle to balance business practices with one's conscience. Saul was convinced that Tiffany didn't have this struggle. She was, in his mind, a non-violent sociopath. She was incapable of feeling empathy. It must have been useful when it comes to work as she would be able to make the most rational decisions without any personal connections getting in the way but Saul would never buy the act of concerned step-mother from her.
"Of course." Saul responded, "From what I could see from the security footage, you and Mr. Silva were quite upset when the girl disappeared."