Chapter 42: The History Of The Wallet

Years back..... 

A young woman sat on a bed crying and upon hearing a knock on her door, asked in a shaky voice, "Who is there?" 

"It's me, mama," 

At the sound of that voice, the woman's eyes grew wide and she instantly stood up from her bed with great speed. 

Sniffing back the tears and snot, she said, "Urm...Marcel baby, give me a few minutes. I'm kind of indecent at the moment," she lied through her teeth because she was well clothed. 

"Okay, mama," the young boy said patiently. 

As soon as the woman heard, she let out a breath of relief and without wasting time, went into the bathroom where she began to splash her face with water. 

She meant to wipe away the tears but her red and puffy eyes were still a sign of her crying. Her son can't see her like this. 

At once, she grabbed her makeup kit and began to powder her face, making sure to even hide the bruise she received from him days ago. 

When she was done, the woman glanced at herself through the mirror. Although the makeup was a bit exaggerated - she had applied a lot in the process of covering up her flaws - she looked beautiful. Having spent a lot of time here, she hurriedly went to her room and opened the room for her son. 

Young Marcel was startled as soon as he saw his mother's face baked with makeup and a shadow fell upon his expression. Father made her sad again. However, in order not to worry his mother, he immediately masked his feelings by putting on a bright smile. 

"Marcel, my son," The woman whose name was Penelope and the mother of Marcel quickly picked her son into her arms. 

"Mama, put me down! This is so embarrassing!" young Marcel went red in the face as his mother carried him. Thankfully, this wasn't in front of his friends else he would have died from shame. 

"I don't care, I just like carrying my handsome son," the woman teased him by dropping him on the bed where she began to attack him with tickles. 

Loud laughter resonated from Marcel's mouth as he suffered from his mother's tickle attacks. Marcel sincerely looked carefree and happy compared to the grim man he became in later years. 

A look at mother and son and one didn't need to guess where Marcel had gotten his great looks. He was a carbon copy of his mother except for the gray eyes he had taken from his father. Both mother and son were photogenic. 

Penelope finally gave up and they both laid down on the bed, laughing and staring at the ceiling. However, even as Penelope laughed, a tear still fell from her eyes that Marcel saw.

He quickly wipes it away with his palm, saying softly, "Please, don't cry, mama,"

Penelope released a burst of choked laughter, "Of course not, this is not tears. It's just water and the eyes releases it to be healthy and alive,"

But of course, Marcel didn't believe her. He asked, instead, "Father hit you again, didn't he?"

Penelope's eyes went wide, "Don't talk nonsense, Marcel. Your father loves me, he wouldn't do such a thing,"

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"Liar, mama, my friends told me love does not hurt," He didn't believe her one bit. Moreover, this wasn't the first time he's seen it happen. 

Although his mother always tried to make their quarrels private, his father didn't care. One time, he had watched him slap his mama in front of the servants while she was preparing breakfast. 

Marcel didn't tell anyone, not even his mother that he had been in the kitchen. His eyes fell on the chopping knife and he imagined stabbing his father over and over and over and over again till the light in his eyes had extinguished. He would have done it but mama wouldn't be happy with that, so he stopped. Mama loves his father too much. 

Penelope snorted at his comment, "Young kids of today, what do you know about love?" 

"You should divorce father," Marcel said, staring her straight in the eyes. 

Penelope was dumbfounded, her eight years was too smart for his age. Yes, his smartness was a blessing and that meant he could survive in this place - survive her husband's anger - but in conversations like this, it was quite a burden. 

She sighed, "You don't know what you're talking about, baby,"

"You would be much better if you're far away from father," Marcel said and that alarmed Penelope, her son can't be thinking like this at this age. 

"Marcel, your father can be a tough nut to crack sometimes but he's a good man," She said nervously, trying to pacify him. 

"Just divorce him, mama, you deserve someone better," Marcel said. 

"And stand a chance of losing you? No, Marcel, you're the reason I've endured so far and I can't afford to make a mistake now," She pleaded with him. 

"You don't have to worry, mama. I read in the books and they say the courts tend to favor women when it comes to custody. Moreover, you have evidence that father has been hurting you," Marcel had read about the law well. 

"You don't understand Marcel, your father has a lot of money and influence, he would surely turn everything to his advantage," Penelope said worriedly. 

"Then, we get our money as well. There are many things to do and make money and I can help you with it," Marcel said confidently. 

Penelope burst into laughter, her son didn't understand the amount of money she was talking about here. However, who was she to crush his spirit, so she said, "Fine, we would make our money. Give me a minute," 

Marcel watched with curiosity as she got off the bed and went to her drawer where she pulled out something. Penelope returned to the bed and placed something into his little hand. 

"Here, take this wallet," 

Young Marcel stared down at the stylish bi-fold wallet that folded in half. It was rectangular and featured a long open pocket. 

Penelope said to Marcel, "Whenever you fill the empty slots with money and the wallet is fat enough, we can resume our plan of leaving," she promised him. 

The very promise she failed to keep because she didn't live to see it happen.

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