Righteous Betrayal

By Celina Wong

Once she was betrayed, Avalon Boston quickly became the betrayer. Once a victim of cruel lies, she is now the one using brutal fictions as weapons of revenge.

To the outside observer, young Avalon has it all. She is the daughter of a powerful Mafia boss, living in a grand mansion in Manchester, with servants to attend to her every whim. But to Avalon, her life is nothing more than a luxurious prison. Her mother is engaged in a passionate and dangerous affair with a much younger man, her once-beloved brother Xavier is now a pawn of her enemies, and her perfect life is simply grim.

Desperate, Avalon takes flight, seeking sanity, anonymity, and a shred of purpose in her life. On a rainy, cold night, the fates guide her to a sad back alley of Birmingham, where she meets little Cara, a sad-eyed orphan who joins Avalon on her journey to freedom.

Avalon vows never to return home again, and she soon finds herself recruited to join a top-secret organization. But even though she thinks shes left the drama of her family behind, the shadow of her past races to destroy her new life. On her very first mission, her resolve is tested.

If Avalon fails, the price will be more than she could imagine paying.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: May 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781482898545

Celina Wong

Celina Wong started writing at an early age, and that youthful interest has grown into a lifelong passion for creative writing. She was born and raised in Hong Kong, where she still lives today, and was educated at the King George V School.

Book preview

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Copyright © 2014 by Celina Wong.

ISBN:            Hardcover                        978-1-4828-9840-8

                        Softcover                        978-1-4828-9839-2

                        eBook                        978-1-4828-9854-5

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Contents

Chapter 1 The Seven Deadly Sins

Chapter 2 Agreement And Disagreement

Chapter 3 That Liar

Chapter 4 What A Kid!

Chapter 5 The Almighty Love Guru

Chapter 6 All American Babe~

Chapter 7 Screwed Up

Chapter 8 Budding Love

Chapter 9 I’m ‘Home’

Chapter 10 Faded Into The Background

Chapter 11 Beyond The Dead End

Chapter 12 This Time… Don’t Look Away

Chapter 13 Truth

Chapter 14 Black Tears And Red Smiles

Extra Xavier Boston

Thanks for the adventure, Christie and Michelle.

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CHAPTER 1

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS

‘Marco… oh Marco, this feels so good, oh!’

I sat in my room in perfect silence. I closed my eyes and closed my ears against the rhythmic creaking of the bed next door.

‘Hush, Linda, quiet. What if your daughter or husband hears us?’

‘Marco, shut up!’

‘Linda!’

‘Shut up… ’

I snarled under my breath and wrenched open the damned door, letting it slam on to the wooden door of the wardrobe noisily. Then I proceeded immediately to stomp into the posh corridor, scaring the stupid old housekeeper who nags me for being out too late, knowing I would ignore as usual. My mum didn’t utter one single word when she saw me; did she have any right to say anything? The answer: she didn’t. Being the housekeeper, however, she saw it as her duty to say something; I kind of understand… still, it was none of her business.

‘Miss Avalon!’

She gasped, patting her chest as she heaved great sighs. I ignored her vicious glare and continued to barge in. The house keeper puts a hand over mine assertively; for a moment I let her touch me and in that moment, somehow wetness gathered around the rim of my eyes. Beyond the door, the creaking grew in speed and in proportion to the passion play there, my heart too raced to catch up. The moment was gone and in a snap of fingers, I slapped her away.

‘This is not any of your business.’ I snapped and narrowed my eyes, pushing the door, taking a deep breath nervously. I know what was happening—no, is happening—in there; they’re having sex. Oh, don’t be mistaken. My father is not that young; my mum’s having an affair. He’s called Marco; I think he’s in his mid-thirties, a platinum blond. My mother’s been dating him for a month; I saw them French-kissing after she dropped it off with the young guy in the driveway. What a complete hoe! She must’ve faked her age to get close to him. I’d expect that much from that shameless woman.

‘Mother, will you shut up!’ I screamed, almost pulling my hair with frustration.

‘Get out!’ she narrowed her eyes at me furiously. She wasn’t impressed that I was disturbing her. Did she know that she was cheating on a mafia boss and at the same time the director of Brixton’s Nuclear Power Limited, one of the most influential companies of all time? Yes. Looking as sexy as a cat, she kissed Marco deeply and passionately, ignoring my presence completely. She must have realised that it wasn’t the first time I saw her, and I was not about to ‘join in’ or anything. I wondered what made her so confident that I won’t blab to Dad. Mother continued, and she pulled him closer and closer. I watched them growing more intense, almost glued to the erotic sight. I assure you I didn’t want to look. I did not plan to stare. I only wanted to do my work, find a job, get away from this luxurious prison. Pay some attention to me, I wanted to scream. I’m your daughter, your only one at that! As if the message passed, she stopped and turned to my way, her teary blue eyes crazed with anger.

‘I said get out,’ she snarled.

‘Oh Mother, I’m merely here to remind you to keep it to yourself.’ I sneered back with faux sweetness.

We both intensified our glares until my eyeballs felt they were going to fall off. I looked away, red to the tips of my ears. To my surprise, Marco shoved her off. Well, it was none of my concern; at least they were quiet now. Without stopping to look back at my mother’s steamy face, I stormed out of the room. With no desire to return to continue in vain in finding a decent job with a decent pay, I head to the kitchen for a glass of water to cool myself down. I’ve seen a naked man’s body and his erect manhood in a woman and apparently that woman’s my mum. The image was so vivid in front of me I couldn’t swat it away. Great, just great.

‘Hey.’

Marco was only wearing boxers. He came up next to me, leaning to the sink with a lusty look in his eyes; they searched my body thoroughly, scanning everything without a fault. I stared back at him curiously but did not move, only tensing slightly.

‘What?’

‘It’s the first time in a whole month you’ve talked to me, although you knew I was seeing your mother,’ he commented, still looking up and down at me. I shifted uncomfortably away from him, sensing a dangerous scent emitting from his body into the cool night air.

‘You were making a lot of noise, and I was annoyed. Wait, I’m sorry, it was my mum.’ I shrugged, trying to walk away. He dared to block me with the arm that held my mother only minutes ago.

‘I’ll remind you that I am one of the mistresses of the household,’ I reminded him, not looking into his eyes. And suddenly his hands were on me, and I was forced to look into his eyes. He was not unattractive. None of my mother’s lovers were unattractive, and they were always blond and muscled. She claimed it was because her first love was a blond. I am a blond.

‘I’ll remind you that beautiful women are always in fashion.’ He chuckled and pulled a little closer, so I could smell his breath, which stank with strong alcohol; we were barely apart. ‘That includes all ages.’

He pressed his body against mine, so I couldn’t move at all. Those spidery hands travelled from my shoulder to my wrist and closed around them, nailing me down against the kitchen table.

‘Unattractive.’ I drew breath sharply and said coldly, pushing him away from me so hard, his head banged on the cupboard. Oops, looks like he wasn’t too pleased that I pushed so hard.

‘Don’t tell me you’re a virgin?’ he asked, grabbing my wrist with a grip unsuitable to use upon women. From the sound of it, it may be comical, but I could tell it wasn’t a joke. Marco looked really aroused when I did not reply, assuming that I was a virgin. I was not, actually. He who was a man over powered me and pushed me down on the soft cushion of the sofa. Despite the position I was in, I grinned wittily, just to piss him off even more.

‘Stop being so horny or I’ll really kick you in the very important part of your body. We won’t like that, will we, now? Get. Off.’

In some ways, you can say I am very alike to my mother, but in many ways we’re not. We are both intelligent and careful with any association with men except she is a wee bit more… sexual on this topic. It seemed that I take this ‘love’ thing way more seriously than she does. Which was really ridiculous if you think about it. Like the active bed activities, for instance; she can go on a bed anytime of the day with anyone, whereas I would like to do it if the feeling was mutual between me and that man. I did it once with my prom date but that was because I thought he was the one back then. Only right after prom I caught him flirting with Sabrina Maroon, who was famous in our district for being a downright hoe. Amazingly, I found myself completely calm and slapped him hard enough to leave a palm mark on his face before walking off as haughtily as a lioness. My mother is the kind of woman who would do things my prom date does—cheating on their ‘beloved’ and have sex friends behind their back. This made me wonder if Marco knew anything about Mother’s other ‘friends with benefits’? He probably has some of his own.

‘You’re not planning to stay in this position for the whole night, are you?’ I arched one of my pale eyebrows up my forehead and kicked him because he didn’t get off as I told; I hate to go back on my own words. I ran off before he could catch me. I breathed out a sigh of relief. I placed my hand on top of my heaving chest; it thumped strongly against my ribcage, and my bloodstream felt as if it was flowing of adrenaline. All I could think of was that Marco was seriously dangerous. He was a beast. He should be locked up in a cage—with Mother. I realised with great disturbance that I was shaking.

‘Open the door, sweetheart. You know you want it.’

Nah, I’m sure I don’t.

‘Come on, don’t be a coward.’

I’m sure it’s just you who’s being forceful.

‘I assure you that I’ll be gentle.’

Shut up, you bastard! I threw a box of tissue at the door. The banging stopped. The door next door opened. I wait. And wait. Silence was rebounding around the pink walls… Suddenly, my phone rang loudly, breaking the horrible eeriness. The room was filled with Lady Gaga’s low and magnetic voice; with a shaky hand, I reached for it, holding it to my ear.

‘Hi, miss! Would you like to—’

‘No, I don’t want an extra plan for my phone, and I don’t want to have a facial session. Leave me alone!’ I screamed at the poor girl at the end of the phone, and then hung up without waiting for a response. The clock still ticked by. I felt lonely.

Music was blasting in my ears and the night was a blur as I zoomed down M6 after half a dozen of beers downtown. My brain was all fuzzy and I couldn’t get my head straight, but hey, I’d rather be here than… anywhere. I don’t want to go home, the voice in my head screamed. I don’t want to see Mum doing another guy. I don’t want to face my family, and I don’t want to deal with all my problems. I didn’t feel like listening to Father shouting about his business and making a ruckus with my mother. They say that home is the thing you’ll miss most at the end of the world because at the end of the day, somewhere deep inside your heart, you love your family. That was the understatement of the universe. Without warning, salty tears flooded out, gushing out of my eyes. It washed away my heavy make-up. The smoky eyes were gone, the glamorous blush melted away; they left a black and red trail on my pale face. With the back of my hand, I scrubbed off my red lipstick and sticky lip gloss. The red and transparent mess became two lines of smears on my face. Soon I was weeping. How long had it been since I cried? It must have been years. Driving in silence for another two hours, I reached the second most populous city of the United Kingdom: Birmingham. My head was spinning from being unbearably drunk and sick. I parked my car wherever and went into a backstreet, feeling a heavy mood rising from within. What happened to ‘happy rich girl’ life? That kind of fairy tale I had never been the heroine for. I was always the villain. I had a crush in middle school, and I confessed to him without knowing he was going out with my best friend. She found out eventually about me and him, but she didn’t break up with him like I intended to because he was a downright jerk for two-timing, but instead that girl slapped me and called me a whore for stealing her guy. Apparently, the guy told her I seduced him and she believed that kind of crap. Up until now, this kind of thing happened countless times, so I gave up loving and became a bitch, someone who would party all night and drink the hell out of herself until she could not think straight, could not feel pain, and slowly die in her empty shell.

It wasn’t just my life that was messed up but even my family. My mother had many affairs and thinks Father never knew. I tell you, when you have a mafia boss for your husband, it’s OK to have affairs. Oh, he knew about it, Oh of course! But he had affairs of his own too, so why would he care? I chuckled at the ironic life we led. I had been in jail twice for theft and once for drugs, yet it wasn’t even my fault. It was Father’s drugs. I found out he was taking Valium and the cops were after him. I hid them for him. And he blamed them on me. Loving family! I stopped believing the day I went to jail for him.

‘I don’t hell need a family! Leave me alone!’

I screamed and laughed hysterically at my loneliness and at those around me who led normal and happy lives without an effort. As if responding to my sad mood, it began to rain like heaven was pouring and lightning ripped the sky into shreds. My tears were mixed into the rain and disappeared, blended in splendidly. In a flash, the crowd around me was a sea of umbrellas; I was the only one left on the street who wasn’t either carrying an umbrella or dashing for cover. I was the only one crying, sitting on the pavement with despair building in my chest.

‘You can’t just sit there, lady. You’ll have to move,’ one of the cops said. So I stood up and walked away into the backstreet, sitting along the dirty banks of River Severn. It was said that a nymph named Sabrina drowned here. I suddenly felt a desperate urge to jump down the river and just stay there, under the water, away from all the commotion. They say there are seven deadly sins: wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony. I won’t go to heaven; I’ll probably be sent to hell for committing the sin of ‘wrath’. In its original form, the sin of ‘wrath’ also encompassed anger pointed internally rather than externally. Thus suicide was deemed as the ultimate, albeit tragic, expression of wrath directed inwardly, a final rejection of God’s gifts. I wonder what kind of ‘gifts’ did God grant me at my birth? Life? I never thought mine was worth living—I might as well die. Another thought, maybe I won’t commit suicide; my corpse would look disgusting, and my ghost would be dragging around looking extremely ugly with washed off make-up and smeared lips. Mother would probably just look at my wet corpse and puke, and father would turn away and continue whatever he was doing. Nobody would care that I look ugly… or the fact that I died. The rain continued to fall, and I looked like an unwanted clown who could not play any more tricks, saddening as it is. The smeared mess on my face was washed off with every drop of rain that slithered down my face, the colours ran down with them as if watercolour on a slate of marble The water left my face clear and white the way it should be, the way it always have been from the beginning. In the end, I did not jump because of the fear of losing what I am trying to cling on to right now; it wasn’t even worth clinging on to, yet I still couldn’t let it go. It’s the wilful part of me hoping that my beautiful and perfect brother who left me five years ago will return to the person I knew… I hoped desperately in my heart every day that somehow he will come back and look at me with his black eyes, brush my hair with his big hands, and hug me affectionately so I feel secure. That won’t happen at all, I know now, because fate is is so painfully playfully cruel. I am such a coward, unable to face reality even though it is there in front of my eyes, an inevitable fact and still I choose to run away and hide in my secret fantasies. The rain didn’t look especially short, so I decided I should look for shelter. Ignoring the fact that my mini cooper was just outside the backstreet, I started to look for somewhere cozy to sleep. I wasn’t about to sleep in the bin, nor was I going to make a bed out of wet cardboard boxes. Along the way, I stepped on the yuck of city glum and was guided away from beyond the walls of glamour to a way that led me to the dangerously dirty slums. It was like we were fated to meet—me and that little girl. Something was pulling us towards each other until we met, on that fated night, in that single white abandoned shed deep within the busy city. I would never have expected it to be there. Like Hansel and Gretel, they never expected there to be a gingerbread house in the middle of the dark hopeless forest. Weary and frustrated, I opened what was left of the rotten wooden doors. What greeted me was a tiny, bony girl who stared at me with her round brown eyes, widened with shock. Under the rain, on that fated night, we both ran away from home—I knew that with one single glance in her eyes.

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CHAPTER 2

AGREEMENT

AND DISAGREEMENT

The girl in the shed was scrawny and unattractive, but all the same like a magnet she attracted my attention and made all my misery disappear with just one melancholy look in her eyes. While we got on with the ‘getting-to-know’ part of the conversation, a sudden blast of light blinded us both. A tall man stood in front of the light, and I felt my heart tense. I knew that person.

‘Good grief, so you did drive off.’

He walked towards me and pulled me up; I was still in a daze. Who told him I was here? Did Mother tell him I ran off? Did Father send him chasing after my tail? I slapped his hand off me, continuing to stare at him; in awe, in amazement or terror… it could’ve been a mixture of all three

‘What?’ he asked, still retaining the smile.

‘What are you doing here in Birmingham? I thought you were up in London with Father doing whatever crap he’s assigned for you,’ I said.

It was a statement, not a question.

‘Mother told Father you ran off, so I offered to come down from London. Father didn’t need my help anyways. I would be a hindrance,’ he answered seriously. ‘Why did you run off?’

‘Mother was too busy with that other man anyways. She doesn’t need my company,’ I said arrogantly. ‘And I can say the same for myself.’

‘Go back to Manchester and find a job as soon as possible.’ His warm gleam had vanished without a trace. That was not a suggestion. It was an order. I was cruelly reminded of the scene when I cried and screamed for three whole days when my world collapsed around me. It used to revolve round and round one person only—my brother who protected me from everything from family to school. He had always been around, shielding me away from whatever unpleasant. I considered him as the only true family member I have in this lonely world. But after that day five years ago, I was torn apart by this person’s own hands. His smile was shattered in my memories to the person who locked me in my room. Now he was back but not in the way I would’ve liked and welcomed. He was still that cold, icy stranger who gave me painful restrictions.

‘No.’ I stomped on his foot with my high-heeled boots, grabbing Cara’s small hands and dragged her off with me. I didn’t remember whether she wailed or had any reluctance at all, but I just remembered driving off into the distance while my brother screamed at me angrily.

‘Father didn’t want you up in London because it’s dangerous! The opposition was trying to… ’

The thunder and lightning drowned his next words out. I did not bother trying to figure out.

‘Who was that?’ Innocent Cara beside me asked, shivering from the rain. I tried to focus on the road as much as I could with the drowsiness and drinks starting to kick in.

‘That was my brother, Xavier Boston,’ I answered coldly. ‘Sleep, Cara, we’ll be in London by night.’

She did not answer, and I didn’t care if she really slept that night or not. She was a girl from an orphanage, so nobody probably cares about her. In that sense, I figured I’m a bit similar. Why did she follow me anyways? I’m eighteen, jobless, drunk… Why did Cara, good old Cara, who’s barely a teen, follow me?

‘Cara?’

‘ . . . ’

‘Cara?’

‘Mmm… ’

Six hours later, I am still on the road in London. Cara stared out of the car, unable to believe her eyes. I park my car somewhere to rest; we’ve been on the road for the whole night after all. I pushed her off the car and dragged her off to a nearby shopping mall to relax. She looked a little uncomfortable though; has she not been in a shopping mall before?

‘Say, Avalon, do you live in London?’ Cara asked nervously, looking around like a mindless kid.

‘No, I’m from Manchester. Where do you come from anyways, little girl? It doesn’t look like you ran away from a particularly warm home.’ I smirked, glancing down to her slimy ragged dress, torn and faded from age.

‘I am an orphan,’ she answered, her eyes widening as if to hold back the urge to cry out loud. ‘Nobody cares about you in the orphanage. I was tired of it, so I ran out—it’s as simple as that.’

She insisted she wasn’t cold, but she was shivering from the rain, if this continues she’ll catch a bad cold. The fees for the doctor won’t kill me but still; I don’t want to waste the money for something avoidable. It wasn’t until then I noticed that everybody in the mall was staring at us, from the securities to the shop keepers; they stared like we were some kind of freak show. We probably did look kind of ridiculous, dripping and wet. I didn’t mind, but apparently, the little girl did. I sighed and stripped off my leather jacket, threw it over her, and looked away embarrassed. It was not my style to do that kind of thing for a stranger.

‘Wear that. You look shabby and it ruins my reputation,’ I said and walked a little faster. I could feel her gaze from behind me; I shivered under the blissful warmth. I mustn’t get attached to someone like that. I looked around the mall and spotted my favourite boutique right away. I measured her body with my eyes, estimating her sizes and all that. She wasn’t particularly curvy and she doesn’t have a dramatic feature. She’s not that short but still not exactly standard, around 160 I think. Her bony look might just pull it off nicely.

‘Isn’t that extremely expensive?’ Cara cried as I held up some clothing for her.

‘Hush! I just don’t want to be seen walking about with a ragged girl!’ I snapped and continued shopping, grabbing everything pink and blue and grey and brown, basically all the colours I can see.

‘Avalon, seriously, I can’t accept all that!’ She pointed at the little mountain of clothes I picked out for her. ‘And there’re some designs you picked twice with different colours; that’s a waste of money!’

‘I don’t think so,’ I answered and looked for some decent blouses.

‘I don’t even like this dress, and that shirt!’ Cara