The Royal Mariposa

By Alex K. Warren

Dawson was home. Lost in his world of fantasy. Content while peace filled his mind. He knew another novel meant another therapeutic visit to his past. Each journey committed to a title. Each title telling another version of his life. Happiness; wealth; security. This lasted for a while. Until security met Judge Daniels. Until wealth met Savannah Redding. Until happiness collided with the infamous lawyer, Theresa Davis. Little by little, Dawson Biello's life started to turn. The longer he breathed, the more he realized his secret was not safe after all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665547000

Alex K. Warren

Alex K. Warren graduated from the Ohio State University. He has published five titles: two works of fiction, one work of nonfiction, and two poetry-based titles. He currently resides in Columbus, Ohio. This is his seventh publication.

Book preview

CHAPTER

1

T he last place Dawson thought he’d find himself was in Dodge City, Kansas. Having made a decent amount of money and leaving sunny California for a quieter life, he managed to move to the sleepy, well-to-do city. He liked it here. He could write, read, and go about his life without a single soul wondering who he was.

If he wanted to get coffee, he could go to 319 Gunsmoke Street and find a table outside and enjoy his Red Beard’s special in peace. Many would pass by and give him a nod. He would give a nod back, knowing they had no idea who he was.

Though, if he were to admit the truth, he did stick out. He was in his late forties with a dark complexion and light blonde hair. He wore glasses despite having contacts because it allowed him to focus. Peripheral vision was a distraction to him and he never liked being distracted.

The blonde hair came as a bet when he was younger, though when his success continued he decided it was his look and kept it. He never felt fit yet feared being out of shape, opting to walk instead of drive whenever he had the chance. While in Los Angeles he hated having to endure traffic, spending hours on Interstate 405.

He didn’t have to worry about traffic here. People went to work in a calm demeanor and seemed pleasantly at peace while heading home. Dawson always managed to wake up early enough to walk around the city, starting his day with more peace and less stress as he knew the rest of his day would be filled with work.

But for the work he did, the city was perfect. He needed the peace. Not for inspiration or for focus, but for his memories. He let them bubble to the surface as each one brought him back to his childhood and to stories from his past. He had plenty of them. Some were nice. Most were unpleasant. But he learned long ago that the most unpleasant memories were the best ones for his line of work. He fed on them; drained them dry as he dug up every detail.

He liked doing this, it was therapeutic. It helped him get over what he had been through. It also showed him that his past would not be a hindrance to his future. Yet every day when he finished his work, he would go for a walk. Reminding himself that no one else knew him. That no one in Dodge City would be able to point him out or ask him about how he got here.

It’s true, there were a few stares—mostly because of his hair—but he welcomed it. He had researched the city before arriving. He knew how the people would act and learned enough about the demographic to know that he was an outlier, yet an outlier amongst people who didn’t dare go out of their way to get to know him.

He was indelibly hidden in a city he didn’t quite fit into. But he made no fuss and neither did the kind people of Dodge City. Yet that is what made this particular Thursday disruptive, while also remaining expected. His troubled past—as shrouded in mystery as it was—caught up with him, yet he never shied away from it.

Success had its way of corrupting the already corruptible, and with the past Dawson Biello came from, it was sure to have hit an all-time high when he mixed business with pleasure. In his case too much pleasure, as the well-to-do millionaire had bore thirteen children. He, having believed each child would be better off without him, paid each mother handsomely for their troubles.

On the off chance one of the women decided to cause a rift in his easy-rowing life, he would up the stakes and pay them more. Luckily for him, none of the women spoke to each other, so when one was paid more than the other the information never got out. That was a part of his settlement and settle he had. He avoided the problems of child support because each woman received more than enough, and he managed a deal to where the women would be paid until the child was fifteen. Then the payments would transfer into the child’s college fund so that they wouldn’t have to worry about schooling.

Through this he assured each mother of his children that their child’s future would be ensured and their current accounts more than accommodating. In each hearing the judge always ruled in favor of his proposals because, quite frankly, they had never met an absentee father so willing to accommodate his children.

Many puzzled at the circumstance, believing the man truly did care for his children yet for some reason wanted no part in their lives. This was another mystery among the many in Dawson’s life and he was perfectly fine with how his life had turned out.

It wasn’t until the birth of his fourteenth child, Savannah Redding, that things started to change. Her mother, Amanda Redding, was a beautiful woman—like the others—yet there was something different. Something so off-putting yet familiar that held Dawson’s attention. To everyone’s surprise, he married the woman and had Savannah not long after.

Amanda heard stories about the wealthy bachelor, but never believed he would change his ways for her. So when he offered to change their daughter’s diapers and read little Savannah to sleep, she could see there was promise; there was a chance he might stick around.

Yet as soon as the thought surfaced she was proven wrong. He would take off for weeks at a time, sometimes months, and return without an explanation. When she questioned him on this, he would simply go back on the road. It didn’t take long for both of them to realize he hadn’t changed, and though he left her the house in Los Angeles, he separated himself, choosing Dodge City to be his new home.

Everything seemed to work as he would still come back to visit his daughter—though he had never visited any of his other children—and he and Amanda would make peace, both wanting Savannah to see how much they loved her. And though he knew the time would come where he would have to choose to remain away or come back into his daughter’s life, he never expected the choice would have to be made soon.

He was sleeping at the time of Amanda’s accident. A phone call from the hospital and an email from child services ruined everything he had built. He would have to choose whether or not Savannah would come to live with him. He decided foster care would be best for the girl. As much as he loved her, he knew better than to ruin the child’s life. He knew he wasn’t the father Amanda thought he was.

CHAPTER

2

S avannah sat in a room assigned to her by foster care and waited. She didn’t know what to think. She only knew her mom and her dad. Now she didn’t have either; her mom had passed away and her dad was somewhere else.

Her book lay to the side and her laptop shut. Everything still swirling in her mind. Her life felt as if it had been turned upside down in a matter of seconds. Days before she sat with her mom on the back porch. Watching flowers bloom. Feet dangling in the pool. Her mom played with her hair. A smile showing so wide that it made her daughter ask a question.

Why are you smiling so much?

Because I’m happy, silly.

Do I make you happy?

Of course you do.

Is that why you’re smiling so much? Because I make you happy?

Her mom laughed. You always make me happy. But yes, that’s why I’m smiling.

She curled a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. Grateful for the gift God gave her. Grateful that, despite the rocky road it took her down, Dawson did something right. She wasn’t mad at her husband. She understood there was more happening behind the scenes of his life than he let on. She just wished he would let her help.

If it weren’t for her daughter and the love she gave, she believed he would have turned out a lot worse. Her expression changed as her daughter perked up. Savannah, taking notice of the lost smile, knew something was off.

What’s wrong?

Nothing, sweetie, her mom said. I just wish your dad was here.

Savannah’s smile faded. Me too.

She didn’t know what other dads were like, but she loved hers. She loved how he picked her up and swung her around. So fast that she would get dizzy. So fast that, though she sensed him slowing down, she urged him to go faster. She could see the smile growing on his face. She could tell he was having fun.

Will he come back? Savannah asked.

Her mom, not a woman to lie nor wanting to cause pain, only sighed. Pulling her daughter in close, she said the only thing she knew for certain.

Your dad loves you, you know that right?

I know.

Then you know your dad’s love is always enough, don’t you?

I guess.

Her mother raised her chin. Making sure Savannah could see her. Making sure what she said was heard and not forgotten.

Your dad will always love you and will make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t like not being here. He just needs to… Amanda struggled to find the right words. …find something he’s lost.

What did daddy lose?

Her mom hesitated. Searching her mind. Wanting to tell her daughter yet knew there was only so much Savannah understood about life.

He lost something very special. Her mom pulled her back in close. Something no one should lose.

Well, did he try retracing his steps?

Her mom laughed. Yes, he sure did.

And he couldn’t find it?

No, sweetie, her mom said. But he will.

Do you think I should help him?

Her mom, happy to have a daughter so caring, only smiled and kissed her forehead.

I think we should let him find it on his own, she said. Like when I hide your Christmas presents.

Oh, Savannah said, now understanding the importance of what her dad had lost. She was long past believing in Santa and knew her parents were the ones giving the gifts. Her mom didn’t want her to find out, but she wasn’t going to lie to her daughter. And her father, being observant of the genius he passed on, came out and told her.

It must be something really important, Savannah said. How long do you think it will take him?

As long as he needs, sweetie, her mom said, arms still wrapped around her daughter. As long as he needs.

Those were the last words her mom spoke to her. Later that night she passed away. Her heart gave out and the next morning when Savannah went to wake her, she didn’t move. Her only child ran to the phone and called 911. The call pierced the operator’s heart. This was a first. He didn’t know how difficult it would be. It was never easy telling a child the truth. It was never easy telling a child their mom had passed.

Savannah refused, however, to think about her mom’s death. She focused on what her mom told her. What her mom said about dad not having found what he lost. She wondered what it was. Whether it was a shoe, or a belt, or maybe one of his books that he took to work. He always seemed worked up when he couldn’t find it.

But it had been over a year since he last visited. She could never understand why he showed up so sporadically or why he never stayed when he seemed so happy to be home.

Until she realized this may be the reason. He was continually losing important things. Though this was the only time her mother mentioned something was lost, Savannah reasoned it was possible to lose something important more than once, like she did with her purple boots. She would search all over to find them, and never seemed to be able to do so without her mom’s help. Yet each time she asked her mom to find them, her mom would tell her she could do it. That she could do it only if she believed she could.

That’s how her mom was. Always telling her how smart she was. Always complimenting her on the questions she asked and the good grades she made in school. And though she felt smart, she knew there was a lot she didn’t know. If she had, she would have helped her dad find what was missing. More importantly, she would have found a way for him to stay.

She continued thinking about this until she lay back on her bed. She felt tired, though she didn’t know if it was because of the day, or because she was sad. But she knew what she needed to do.

I’ll help you find it, she whispered to herself. I’ll help you find what you’ve lost, dad.

CHAPTER

3

J udge Daniels didn’t care much for this case when it was first handed to him. He had seen plenty of custody battles before and knew how most of them ended. There never seemed to be a satisfying result and many times the child was left with more hate toward the judge than toward the social worker called upon to help out with the case. Being in his late sixties, and having been a judge for over twenty years, he knew he didn’t have the same vitality for it.

When he first became judge he prided himself on moral ambiguity; this allowed him to never have a tell and kept most lawyers on their feet. There was no soothing the judge or getting him on your side. Everything would be decided by his thoughts and what he believed was right.

To others this wouldn’t seem so different but Judge Daniels knew the minds of his colleagues. They decided verdicts based on families, court costs, how nice the woman dressed, how eager the prosecutor was, or—in the simplest form of necessity—how long it would take until he could finally have lunch.

He bared witness to the last one as his mentor, Judge Matthews, was on the heavier side, and refused to skip a meal for lack of evidence or unpreparedness on the part of the defendant. Judge Daniels believed there was more to justice; a long, trudging contempt toward truth that meant digging deeper than either side was willing to go.

For the sake of prior judges and the colleagues he worked with, he purposefully drew out court hearings, sometimes to see which side would give in, sometimes to see whether there was more to the story. If there was one thing Judge Daniels was against it was Judicial Misconduct. He would never, and had never, been accused of such, though many before him were and would continue to be.

This was less about his need to be right. He didn’t care which side won and he knew his verdict would be examined by people higher up than him. No, his cases were a matter of heart. He wanted to see if the victim was really a victim, and get beyond the acts committed by either party.

Growing up he knew there was always more to a person. His father, a pastor at People’s Church in Elko, Nevada, led a congregation of five hundred people. He preached peace and being content and led many to Christ. The man, however, was anything but a Christian. His mother, God rest her soul, was the true saint.

She took care of the family while his father went on mission trips to different cities around the United States. It wasn’t until Judge Daniels was older that he realized many of the places his father visited all seemed to be cities featured in movies like Los Angeles, New York City, and Miami.

He didn’t know if his mother knew, but had a feeling that she wasn’t fooled. It didn’t matter if his father came home angry or discontent with where they were, Emma Daniels never walked out, knowing her boy would need her and that someone had to show what Christianity really meant. She always kept a calm demeanor that matched well with her down-to-earth smile. It seemed that nothing could dissuade her from her faith.

Judge Daniels remembered the night when his father called home, inebriated, asking for him to put his mother on the phone. He sat in the living room, playing with his toys, as he heard yelling coming from the phone. When he looked back to see if his mom was okay, he realized her expression hadn’t changed. There she sat, calmer than ever, enduring the rants of a man who was supposed to be in love with her.

When the yelling stopped, and his mother was able to talk, she asked if he was okay, as if his outburst had something to do with anything other than the fact that he was a hypocrite. His father calmed down and the rest of the conversation seemed to be controlled by mom. She went on to tell his father that she wouldn’t be spoken to this way and the next time he decided to call his family while he was stressed she would pack up their stuff and take her son with her. His father, always understanding how bad it would look if he didn’t have control of his own family, would agree, promising never to do it again.

Of all the things he lied about, this wasn’t one. He kept his promise and never again called slurring his words or stressed to the point of making a fool of himself. Judge Daniels admired his mom for this alone. She might have married the wrong man but she wouldn’t stand to be treated wrong. She wouldn’t stand being talked down to or having her son treated any less than the good boy that he was.

He admired her all the way until she was in her late fifties. He was away in college when his father called to give him the news.

She went peacefully, said his father. No complications. Just…went during the night.

By this time Judge Daniels had estranged himself from his father after learning of his many affairs. It wasn’t until his mom’s death that he realized what she had instilled in him. From that day on he kept in touch with his father, who was no longer a pastor but working as a realtor in Pensacola, Florida. They would talk once a week and he would make sure his father was doing okay.

It wasn’t because he loved him and he didn’t feel any responsibility for him. He just knew there was more to his father’s story. He knew there was a part of his