With this segment of Chapter Four of Repairing the Legacy, we continue the serialization of Repairing the Legacy. This is a rough draft work in progress and may not reflect the final form. Time period: set after the ending of The Martiniere Legacy main trilogy, before the Epilogue (for this chapter). I’m breaking longer chapters into sections for readability. This is the second part of Chapter Four. There will be three parts to this chapter.

“Thank you.” Gabe turned. “Ms. Ruiz, I’ll talk to you in a few minutes and we’ll discuss my preferences. Right now, I want to meet with my sister.”

“Calling me on the carpet, hmm?” Justine said wryly. He picked up on the slight tension in her voice.

“No. Just needing to meet with you.” And probably a bit of asking for accountability, but no need to make a big deal of it. Another thought occurred to him. “McNaughton. Before you leave—I’m not certain if you, Ms. Ruiz, or Justine will handle this, but my wife also needs office space next door for when she comes to LA, along with a play and study area for our adopted son. I’d like that space for Michael to be privately accessible for both Ruby and me, no outside entry except from our offices.”

“That can easily be done,” McNaughton said. “Brandon, do you want a similar setup for your wife?”

“Studio space as well as office space, because we will still be making ‘casts,” Brandon said. “Dad, I’ll take care of setting things up for Mom, Mikey, and Kris. Eliot, I’ll have a similar need for Kris. Our first child is due in June. Let’s talk. Justine, I’m assuming you handled the hiring of my assistant as well?”

“Yes,” she said. “Do you want a second one for Kris—same for Ruby?”

“I’ll check with Ruby to see if she wants an assistant,” Gabe said. Having an assistant to coordinate things here might be a solution for the heavy additional workload that the Indentured Recovery Project was putting on her. He turned back to the office—now his, not Philip’s, tensing once again in anticipation.

He exhaled with relief as he eyed the room in more detail. Plain. Not much décor here, definitely nothing of Philip’s left. A computer cube on the desk. A big, comfortable chair with an ottoman he could pull in behind the desk if he wanted to elevate his feet, identical to the one he had in his Double R office. Similar chairs for others to use. Couch, sleek and minimalist in light green with a glass and chrome coffee table in front of it. Credenza made of bamboo, probably containing liquor and bar supplies. The desk itself was pine with a glass top and chrome trim, understated rather than chunky and imposing.

Gabe walked in and looked around. Several framed pictures on the wall. Gabe on his favorite saddle bronc, Skydancer. Ruby on her old barrel horse Sunshine, wearing her Miss Rodeo Oregon regalia for a Grand Entry run-in. Him, Ruby, and Jeff Swait standing with hands clasped and raised high in front of the studio crowd, after winning the AgSuperhero eleven months ago. The close family picture from this past Christmas, his first one as the Martiniere.

He studied their expressions in this portrait. Ruby was radiant, Mikey frightened, Brandon triumphant, Kris worried, Donald and Justine with faint smiles, and his face—quizzical was the best term that Gabe could think of to describe it.

“I didn’t want to leave things completely barren,” Justine said. “And I thought you’d appreciate those pictures.”

“Thank you.” He crossed the room and sat in his chair, gesturing to Justine to take one of the others.

“So why do I feel like I’m coming under the microscope?” Justine glanced around. “This place still has resonances of our damned father, at least for me. Even with all the changes.”

“You spent a lot more time in this office than I ever did,” Gabe said. He exhaled slowly, steepleing his fingertips together. “And that’s the part I want to know more about.”

Her face tightened. “There was a lot more going on than I think you realize.”

“Then tell me.” He kept his voice soft, tapping his index fingers against his chin. “You’ve shown by your actions that you were never one of Philip’s lackeys, or at least that you were never part of his agendas. But you have held responsible positions within the Group, at a high level. A deeper involvement than I ever suspected or knew, until I started reviewing records. At the end, you were considered to be Philip’s enforcer.” He paused. “How did all this happen, Tine? Given what I knew about your relationship with our father when I dropped out of sight, it’s completely unexpected.”

Justine grimaced. “The Family required my involvement, Gabriel. Both times.”

Oh. Oh.

The words hung between them. Gabe shivered.

The Family required it.

Unlike him, Justine might have separated herself from their father—but she had not walked away from the Family. Like he had.

“Tell me more,” he said finally.

She exhaled, looking not at him but beyond him. “The first time, our fucking father showed up at a horse show. Requested that we meet more formally, to discuss me taking a logistics position.” Sarcasm tinged her voice. “I told Donald, and he contacted Serg and Kendra. The next thing I knew, Gerard, Kendra, Piotr, Serg, and Donald’s mother Barbie showed up at the barn on my return to Mist Knoll, our residence at the time. A very hush-hush meeting—and I learned that the Board had rejected Joey as a potential Martiniere-in-waiting. The Board demanded that Daddy-damned-dearest put me in an equivalent position. Uncle Gerry was very nice about it—but I was given no choice but to accept our father’s offer. By the Family, not him.”

“Hmm.”

Interesting, very interesting.

“That logistics position turned out to be First Secretary of External Affairs,” Justine said bitterly. “At the same time that Donald became very ill. It brought about my divorce. And it ended very dramatically, when I learned too damned much about what Daddy-fucking-dearest was doing with his Electric Born cult.”

“I’m sorry, Tine,” he said softly.

Now she looked at him. “I could have used your presence, Gabie. I really could have.” The hurt in her voice made him ache. “If you had been available, then the Family would have turned to you. Not me. I could have been with Donald full time, when he really needed me.”

Damn it, Tine. I am so fucking sorry.

“From what I’ve seen, you did an excellent job in that position,” he said.

Justine’s lips tightened even more. “Gabie, I was just twenty-one years old when that happened. I had a sick husband, who encouraged me to follow through, and hid how ill he was until after I signed the contract and couldn’t walk away without triggering a pile of consequences.” She exhaled, and sagged slightly in her chair. “While I was angry at you, I also knew that you’d made many sacrifices to save me. It was my turn to pay back all those—you, Serg, Piotr, Gerry, Donald, Kendra—who helped me get away from our damned father.” Her chin raised slightly. “The Board set me as a watchdog on our father. Until I made a major mistake when digging into the Electric Born records, I performed that job—very well.”

“I’m surprised he agreed to making you First Secretary of External Affairs.”

“I’d had my hysterectomy by then.” Grim voice now. “Daddy-damned-dearest was most explicit that my lack of female reproductive organs partially qualified me, although, since I had the unfortunate fate of being born female, with two X chromosomes instead of XY, I could never ascend to the full position of Martiniere, much less Martiniere-in-waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“He threw it in my face many times,” she sighed. Her expression softened. “And the second time around, when I became Director of Security, the reasoning from the Family was very much the same, only delivered by Piotr once he’d emerged from a long period underground. The Board required it. And, by that point, I had decided that there were only two people qualified to be our father’s successor. You—or me.”

Gabe raised his brows at that.

Justine tightened her lips again and nodded. “And then I made another mistake.” She waved one hand. “It’s not material to this discussion. But I spent too damned many years under his thumb as a result.” Now she steepled her fingers, mirroring his posture. “Any more questions?”

“I have quite a few of them, especially after my discussion with the Heads of Families at Christmas about the degree to which our damned father decimated any competition.” He sighed. “But that’s going to be an ongoing conversation—too long for one meeting. How the hell did you survive, Tine?”

Justine exhaled. “In a nutshell, Donald. And the fact that I discovered a vulnerability in Eliot. I protected Eliot; Eliot protected me. Donald, Eliot, and Nick were all key in my survival.”

Nick? Who’s Nick? Another player Gabe didn’t know about. One of her boyfriends post-divorce?

Justine continued. “But much of it was scrambling and sheer good luck. Serg working undercover within the Group during one point that could have gone bad for me, among other things.”

“You survived.”

She shrugged. “For some reason, our damned father pulled his punches when it came to me. He knew Joey was a fuckup, and for some crazy reason, he’d tolerate my sass. Even if he wouldn’t make me the Martiniere-in-waiting. He just couldn’t go that far, but—” She shook her head. “He brought me in as Director of Security because he was being blackmailed by Greg Hallock. Eliminating Hallock earned me the title of being Daddy-poo’s enforcer. But Daddy-fucking-dearest also told me that I was the only one—perhaps you as well—who wouldn’t destroy the Group in the process of deposing him.”

Gabe snorted. “Not sure that’s much of a compliment. You managed to survive, nonetheless.”

“In part because he found a lever to keep me under control.” She laughed bitterly. “Little did he know how desperate I was just before you reappeared. It took constant support from Donald to keep me from activating Donald’s Little Divorce Present to the Martinieres and tearing it all down, during 2058.”

“Wow. It was that bad.” Gabe eyed Justine, remembering the skinny, tense, jittery woman she had been almost a year ago. His sister had actually gained weight over the past year, and while she was watchful, she lacked that sharp edge she had possessed while their father was alive.

Another victim of our damned father. But she had the guts to face him head-on.

“Yes. The main reason I stayed, and didn’t invoke Donald’s program? What activating Donald’s Little Divorce Present would have done to the innocents in the Family. It would have destroyed the financial support for those who had done no wrong. I did what I could to protect people, Gabie, especially when I worked as Director of Security. I kept Piotr and Serg from being destroyed, and others.” Justine looked down, then back up. “I wasn’t perfect. But trust me, the Family would have been much more reduced if I hadn’t been Director of Security these past few years. I kept looking for my opportunity, hoping that maybe you could come back, but if not—I was fully prepared to fight my way into becoming the Martiniere myself. Even if the Family structures based on Salic Law were most explicit about the role being limited to men.”

“I believe you,” Gabe said. He rubbed his face. “And I need you to remain as Director of Security—if you’ll keep it.” He sensed there was much more below the surface, but—this was sufficient. For now.

“Of course.”

“You’re welcome.” Gabe studied his hands. “Final thing. Personal, a favor I’m asking the Director of Security to handle. There was a captain in Philip’s guard. He may not remain within the Group.”

He could trust his sister in her role as Director of Security to handle this particular situation.

“And?”

Gabe tightened his lips. “He not only beat the crap out of me when our damned father programmed me so I couldn’t even say my own true name—but he brutalized Brandon as a kid. I never got his name. But if he still works for the Group—I want him out of here. Preferably with extreme prejudice.”

Justine raised her brows. “What the fuck, Gabriel?”

Gabe exhaled. “After Philip beat the crap out of me and introduced more nanos into my system so that I was severely locked down, that man continued to whale on me. Left me with internal injuries and broken ribs. And what he did to Bran—” He winced. “Bran was just ten years old. That, more than anything, is why I’d happily see that man gone.”

“When did that happen?” Justine scowled.

“Me? Just before the divorce from Ruby. April 1, 2036. Brandon—September-October of 2043.” Gabe let himself bare his teeth slightly. “I beat the crap out of that man in return, after Brandon. I can’t find his name in the records, but I want him gone. If he’s not already dead.”

“If he’s not in the records, then that probably means he was part of the Electric Born. Daddy-fucking-dearest brought in a lot of personal security from those fuckers, and those would be the sort of jobs they’d handle.”

Gabe leaned his head against the back of his chair. “This is such a fucking mess, Tine. It really is.”

“Yes.” Her voice was flat, noncommittal.

“While personally I’d like to be a part of the reckoning for that man, realistically, I shouldn’t be.”

“Agreed.” That grim tone in her voice again. “You can’t afford that sort of vengeance-taking as the Martiniere, not with what you’re trying to do for the Group and the Family. I’ll take care of it, Gabriel.”

Gabriel instead of Gabie. That, the suddenly hard set of her face, and the tone were all reminiscent of their father. Gabe stifled a shudder. He was seeing Justine as the enforcer. His enforcer now, not Philip’s.

On the other hand, I also have moments like that as well, for the same sort of realities.

All the same, he softened his voice. “That’s pretty much it. I want to tour the labs, but that can wait until tomorrow. I expect that to take most of the day.”

He wanted to pry more information from Justine about her connection with McNaughton, but this was most likely enough for now.

Justine’s expression eased in return. She got up, and paused. “I’m setting up dinner plans for tonight. Eliot and Nick, Donald, you, me, Brandon. It’ll be at the house. A chance for you to know Eliot and Nick.”

“That sounds good.” He and Brandon were staying at Justine’s oceanfront house for the duration of their time in Los Angeles. Gabe supposed that sooner or later, he’d need to set up his own residence here—then again, he’d not had the opportunity to examine her compound just yet. Staying there might be the best option.

And dinner would be an excellent opportunity to learn more about the connection between his sister and McNaughton. Especially with Donald present. He needed to know if there would be problems from that direction.

“Oh, can you send Ms. Ruiz in?” he asked. “Thank you for finding her.”

She grinned at him. “Corina is very good at what she does, Gabie. She’s not security, but I don’t think you need that.” Justine hesitated. “She was Raven’s personal assistant while she was still indentured, and he had the highest regard for her. Was planning to buy her contract before he died; left her enough money to buy herself free and set herself up for life. Our damned father was an absolute ass to her. Eliot found a spot for her in External Affairs to get away from him. Be—gentle with Corina to start with, all right?”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He was glad for the warning. Then again, given Justine’s past history working with indentured women and championing women, he wasn’t surprised.

And Deschamps wanting to buy her contract? Poor woman was probably still in mourning, because Gabe was pretty damned sure that meant they were lovers. Even though that went against all HR regulations—Ruiz must be someone pretty special, for a strict rule-follower like Deschamps to disregard protocol to this extreme.

He needed to be extra careful with her, then.

*************************

Like what you’ve read so far? Check out the other stories in The Martiniere Legacy—all links here, both Amazon and other sources.

Justine Fixes Everything: Reflections on Mortality is now available at Amazon, Apple, Barnes and Noble, and Kobo!

What’s it about?

EVEN THE MOST POWERFUL PEOPLE HAVE TO START SOMEWHERE....

Over the years, Justine Martiniere has become the fixer for the Martinieres. Have a problem? Go to Justine to get it remedied.

But it wasn't always that way.

First, Justine needed to escape the abuses of her father, Philip. She didn't expect to fall in love with the man she married, Donald Atwood. But she did–and then she faced the choice between remaining married to Donald, or stopping her sociopathic, megalomaniac father.

Justine Fixes Everything is in part the unusual love story of Justine and Donald–and in part the saga of her rise to power, viewed in retrospect as she tells the history to Philip's clone Mike, as he recovers from surgery. It's about what she sacrificed to become powerful—and, at the same time, how that past comes to haunt the challenges she faces toward the end of her life.