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NO ONE WANTED to listen to the story of the sinner. The bad guy. The villain.
No one truly cared about my agendas or goals.
No one could comprehend that my actions stemmed from a place of love, family, and commitment to those I cherished.
Did that make me a terrible person?
Could I not put those I cared about before a total stranger?
People did it all the time.
They murdered to protect themselves and loved ones. They willingly forgot the commandments in favour of how they viewed what was acceptable and what was not.
I was no different.
Those who knew me understood my passion and drive. And those who didn’t. Well, I didn’t give a rat’s arse what they thought.
There were rarely two sides to every story. In my long life experience, I’d come to see the truth. There were multiple sides. Pages and pages of sides. A never-ending battle where humans picked what they believed, causing friction and intolerance. Sometimes the choices were for understandable reasons—not justified or rash or right—just...understandable.
And when I understood that magic, I learned how to create the same spell within my own empire.
There was no right and wrong.
There was no black and white.
Those two simple lessons guided me through my life forever.
My reasons for doing what I did made sense to me. They were my dreams, and I was lucky enough to have the power and authority to press those dreams on others.
Was I right? Depended on who you asked.
Was I wrong? Not in my eyes.
And really, that was all that mattered.
I believed in what I did. I loved my family. I adored the power and wretchedness my loved ones could deliver. I gave my entire being to ensuring they thrived.
It all started on the day Alfred ‘Eagle’ Hawk asked me to marry him. The day he went from courting to bent knee, I knew my trials at living within my place in society were over. I hated the airs and graces of stuck-up princesses at the seasonal parties. I hated dealing with egotistical jerks who thought one manor and a career slaving for others meant they could take care of me.
Idiots.
That was just a prison sentence, and I had no intention of sharing a cell with middle-class achievers.
I came from wealthy stock myself. The Warrens owned most of South Hampton and a fleet of transportation that travelled all over the world with merchandise. Mainly, other people’s merchandise—a fact I didn’t like. I didn’t like that we helped others improve their footing in this world.
Finite resources meant me and mine had to share.
I believed those I loved and shared blood with should prosper and those who didn’t shouldn’t. A simple decision that came with so many different sides.
As I grew used to my newfound authority, I decided to forgo my first name of Melanie and rechristen myself as Bonnie.
Bonnie Hawk rose from the ashes of Melanie Warren.
And I became a true wife and supporter.
When I fell pregnant with Peter, my first child, I swore he would be the reason I worked beside Alfred and gathered more power. Hard work and dedication didn’t scare me. Failure and destitution did. So I did everything in my power to make my husband great—beyond great—unsurpassable.
One night, Alfred told me of the Debt Inheritance. It took me years to get him to fully explain what it meant. Wives of Hawk men were not supposed to get involved with the so-called Indebted business, but Alfred was mine, and if it was in my power to bring him greater glory, I would do it.
I was then graced with another son, Bryan. Life smiled on us, doting on my perfect children, ensuring they would become great masters and lords of a universe I would help maintain and create for them.
However, one stormy night and a few too many cognacs, Alfred told me how he claimed a Weaver before he met me. He carried out a few debts but couldn’t carry out the final one. He didn’t attach the Weaver Wailer, and he lied about killing her to a save face with the history books.
He let her go. Told her to run. To hide. He buried an empty coffin, pretended he’d completed the debts, and covered up the truth on the moor.
Stupid bastard.
That kind of weakness was not tolerated. I lost all respect for him. I saw him for what he was—a wimp. So I moved out of his bedroom to new quarters. I could no longer stomach his unwillingness to deliver a perfect future for our sons. Years later when he died of lung cancer, I didn’t mourn his loss. I celebrated it.
Now was my time to triumph or meddle—again, it depended on whose opinion.
Peter took after his father. A hard worker, loyal and kind. I truly hoped he would be a good replacement and heir but time slowly changed my opinion.
Bryan took after me. He had my soul, my discipline, my drive for the impossible. Peter preferred to study and donate our wealth to charities. Bryan preferred to take that wealth and turn it into even more wealth for us—not others.
We were blood, but battle lines had been drawn and as age separated my two sons, I taught the one who listened. Bryan had been my student since he was little, and he remained my student all his life.
I’d wanted more children. I wouldn’t deny it. Lots and lots of children to ensure a greater probability of world domination. We traded in the most priceless of wealth. We owned countless empires in countries around the globe. I was finally in a position to ensure we were unstoppable, but I only had one son on my side. However, he was a son who was happy to oblige.
While I was busy teaching Bryan how to run the Black Diamonds with better efficiency, digging through Hawk history books and immersing myself in my new family more than I ever did as a Warren, Peter fell in love.
A woman he met at an animal shelter. He brought her home to introduce us a few months into their relationship. Behind my back, he’d asked her to marry him and she’d agreed without my consent.
Rose Tessel was everything I wasn’t. Softly spoken, obsessed with dogs and cats and horses. She didn’t care about Hawksridge. She didn’t care about diamonds or money. All she cared about was making Peter happy and spending time at the stables with my firstborn.
That bitch completely clouded Peter’s mind. As my eldest son, he had a duty to perform. His father hadn’t followed the rules of the Debt Inheritance, but my son sure would. However, he left it too late. He didn’t collect Emma Weaver and pretended it didn’t exist—burying himself in storybook romance and stupidity.
Bryan tried to make him see sense, but Peter and Rose fought a good battle. They were so wrapped up in their own plans; they forgot we were family and family sticks together through everything.
It was Bryan who came up with the idea.
He was such a good son, so attentive and switched on. He made a promise that if I put him in charge of Hawksridge, he would grow the empire to ever-new heights. He would always look after me and would grace me with many grandchildren to rule.
However, he had one condition.
He wanted to claim the Debt Inheritance. He’d spied on Emma Weaver. He’d coveted what should’ve been Peter’s and a dislike for his older brother festered deep within his heart.
I pondered my decision, not because I doubted his capabilities, but because it would do him good to stare defeat in the face before granting his dreams. Unfortunately, while he waited for my deliberation, his jealousy of Peter overflowed one drunken night.
Peter was at a business meeting in London, delayed overnight. Rose had agreed to wait for him at the estate in his quarters instead of returning to her place in Buckinghamshire. I hated having that hussy under my roof—unmarried, no less. But Bryan did something unforgivable.
He raped Rose.
He took what should’ve been Peter’s.
But what he took, he gave back. He impregnated her with my first grandbaby.
I cursed him for that. I was disappointed in him. Disgusted in his weakness for flesh.
But after he’d taken what he wanted, he regretted the choice immeasurably. He came to me with the weeping woman and together we put her back together again. I held a meeting that very evening and said Rose could remain in my household, but she would have to marry Bryan. If she didn’t, Peter would pay the price.
She refused but wisely reconsidered when I threatened Peter’s life.
The next few months were fraught with drama I didn’t care for. I realised too late that my eldest would never accept his love was betrothed to his brother. Peter reminded me too much of his father, and I’d had enough of his indecision and weakness to have the strength to deal with it again. So I told Bryan he could have everything he ever wanted. A family. Children. An empire. And the Debt Inheritance.
All he had to do was put an end to his brother.
And he did.
He strangled Peter while I was at a council meeting. I pretended to grieve and act disgruntled with his actions. I made it known that the incident was on his head alone. But in secrecy, I was awed he’d had the gumption to do it.
Peter's death was reported as a horse riding accident. Rose was married to Bryan. And life moved on. Jethro was born followed by Jasmine and Angus. Bryan became known as Cut as he stepped into the role I always knew he was capable of and took the Hawk name to even greater heights.
He strengthened our relationship with authorities. He befriended new royals and smoothed out age-old alliances. And then one night, he announced Rose would have another child.
Daniel.
Cut hadn’t planned on more, but he’d said he’d been to watch Emma and couldn’t wait any longer to claim the Inheritance. He’d used his wife to dispel some of his lust that night—even though they’d barely talked for years.
After Jasmine’s birth, Rose had moved out of Bryan’s rooms, living a sham of a marriage, only glued to us by her children. My dislike for her grew year by year.
Unfortunately, Daniel’s birth unravelled the perfect family I’d gathered.
Rose insisted on a hospital birth—regardless that her other deliveries had been at Hawksridge with a midwife and no complications. Bryan felt guilty for his treatment of her and softened. He gave her her wish.
Stupid man.
A few days after the birth, Bryan returned to the hospital to bring his son and wife home. Only, his wife had vanished. She’d abandoned her family—the greatest sin of all. She left behind four children and a husband who would’ve protected her for life.
Only, she didn’t get far.
For a few months, she managed to escape our notice, but then Bryan—my ever resourceful, capable son—found her awaiting an international flight. She’d willingly traded her children for freedom—an unpayable crime.
He brought her back to the Hall. He kept her by his side while the children grew a few more years. But then the incident occurred.
I didn’t approve of what happened that night, nor will I ever forgive him for the slip of Jethro and Jasmine seeing what he did to their mother. But what was done was done and there was nothing more to be said.
She was finally gone.
Good riddance.
However, her death taught me one final vital lesson: even family could disappoint. In fact, family could do more than disappoint—they could destroy everything with one ungrateful action.
I wouldn’t put up with any more nonsense. Jethro turned out to have the same condition plagued by previous generations of Hawk bloodline. I ordered Cut to beat it out of him until he learned that as firstborn he had responsibilities, destinies, obligations to fulfil.
Angus pleased me but only because he had a gift not many others had. He could read people and only show them what would be appropriate to the situation. He was a chameleon within my ranks, but he was family and did what he was told. So he was left to his own devices.
Jasmine listened and obeyed, but she was rebellious in her heart like her older brother. Yet she was my only girl and despite myself, I doted on her. I wanted a mini-me. It would take time, but eventually, she would see the light and mimic all that I did.
However, recent events made me see what a foolish wish that was. I didn’t show how much she hurt me when she picked sides against me. She needed to be disciplined. I knew that. But...for some reason, my ruthless laws faded when it came to Jasmine. I couldn’t hurt her—not when she’d already been hurt so much.
I shouldn’t have been so weak toward her. It would remain my greatest regret.
And Daniel.
Well, not having a committed mother screwed him up from the start. He was a needy, attention-seeking, reckless child. Strictness didn’t work with him. Time-out. Smacks. Nothing. At least he idolized his father and ensured he wouldn’t turn out like Peter or Alfred. That was his only saving grace—that and the fact he was blood and obeyed me.
And now, my beautiful family—the son I’d groomed who’d pleased me so much; the grandson who’d disappointed and destroyed everything—would now have to fend without me.
My legacy was long. I was proud of what I’d achieved.
The Hawk name was who I was.
I was born to become a Hawk even if it was only through marriage.
I’d strengthened our lineage. I’d played my part precisely.
And death could never take that away from me.
