Ophelia: Second Digital Edition (copyright 2013 by D.S. Ryelle)

Text and cover design copyright 2010 by D.S. Ryelle.

OsCorp Executive Tower retrieved from Google Image Search.

All rights reserved. Published by DarkMoon Publishing, in association with Tablo Publishing. DarkMoon and the DarkMoon logo are trademarks of DarkMoon International.

Harry Osborn, Norman Osborn and all other Spider-Man characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Marvel, Inc. Ophelia Osborn, Eduardo Miraz, David Westbrooke and all other original characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of DarkMoon International.

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DarkMoon Publishing: a Division of DarkMoon International (Grand Ledge, Michigan)

To W. James Remar,
who is nothing short of phenomenal.

Te amo.

Friday,
December 14, 2002

The knock was so soft; Ophelia nearly took it for her fiancé’s heartbeat. She lingered on Eduardo’s chest a moment longer.

“Do you want me to get it?”

Ophelia shook her head as she sat up and reached for her robe. “If it is half seven on a Saturday morning, it is probably important.”

The knock sounded again.

“Just a moment!”

“Hurry, Ophelia!” David, her bodyguard.

“Make that very important!” Ophelia called over her shoulder as she headed toward the bedroom door.

“Come out here, please,” David said.

Ophelia tried to invite him into the sitting room, but a sharp look caused her to softly close the door to her suite.

“Are you familiar with a man who calls himself Thomas Harris?” her bodyguard asked in Irish.

“Not that I recall.”

“Mr. Harris says he is a junior associate with Laurier, Fitzwilliam and Morris of New York. He told me he is here on the behalf of one of the partners, Michael Laurier.”

“Michael Laurier is my father’s solicitor.” Ophelia hesitated. “What does Mr Harris have to say that could not wait for office hours at the atelier?”

“If Harris is to be believed, your father was killed in an accident on November twenty-second.”

She paled. The only way for Ophelia to stop her tears was to remind herself that the message could be a hoax.

“Have my assistant call the solicitor’s firm and verify Mr Harris’s claim.”

“Nicole is standing by…I wanted to receive your permission before she called.”

She nodded and turned toward the door.

“Ophelia?”

The young woman glanced at her bodyguard.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked in English.

“For now. It is likely that Mr Harris is merely deceiving us.”

David touched her shoulder. “Stay in your suite. I don’t want you or Eduardo moving about the house until the situation is clear.”

Ophelia nodded, then reached out and hugged him impulsively.

“I’ll help you sort this out,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Forty-five minutes later, Ophelia and her fiancé were showered, dressed and waiting restlessly for David’s return.

“I’m hungry. Let’s call for breakfast.”

Ophelia looked anxiously at the door, but didn’t respond.

“¿Corazón?”

“Your hunger will have to wait!” she snapped.

Eduardo tried to put on a good-natured smile. “Are you afraid to try David’s patience?”

“Doubtless the entire compound is under lockdown,” Ophelia said. “If anyone is allowed to use the water closet, I should be surprised.”

He was prepared to tease her out of her tense mood, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Hold your peace, if only for a few moments!” she growled.

Ophelia slipped out, trying not to appear startled when she noticed that David’s expression had not changed.

“You need to be in New York by the solstice, Ms. Osborn.”

The young woman felt ill. Her bodyguard had only called her Ms. Osborn once, on her eighteenth birthday, when he abandoned “miss” in deference to her age.

“I told the atelier staff that you would address them at the top of the hour. Nicole is rushing to finish a briefing for you to peruse in the car and I have informed your chief of staff that you will address the household upon your return.”

David hesitated upon noticing that Ophelia had propped herself against the wall. “Are you all right?”

“Hmm?”

He had been speaking English, but the words had swirled around in her ears and muddled her brain, making it sound as if he had chosen Welsh or perhaps Ancient Persian. After a moment, Ophelia repeated her instructions and David guided her away.

~*~

“I was hoping that I would not have to make this announcement for several more years…” Ophelia tried not to sigh. “I will be leaving for the States on the morrow. My father passed from this earth three weeks ago and—to my knowledge—I am the executor of his estate. I do not know when I shall return, or whether return is even possible.”

A low murmur suffused the crowd, but she held up her hand.

“Mr Miraz and Ms Crawford will be entrusted with the completion of my current collection. Following the presentation of the collection in Milan, Mr Miraz will complete the closure of the atelier and join me in New York. You will be advised of the future of Golden Rose Design as soon as we are aware of the circumstances surrounding my father’s death.”