A Woman Scorned, Chapter 2
The days following the mysterious disappearance of Don Lothario were tense ones in the Goth household. Cassandra read about it in The Pleasant View with no more than a passing interest. “Poor Donny,” she whispered to herself, and then she would smile an enigmatic little smile.
Eventually, the police showed up to question them all. Of course, they assured Mortimer and Cassandra that they were questioning everyone in town, but as everyone knew, Cassandra Goth had the most motive for wanting him dead.
“But how do you know that he’s even dead?” Mortimer asked, angrily defending his daughter’s honor and reputation. “It’s not like people just don’t go missing in this town, after all.”
The police officers shuffled their feet and looked properly chastised, as well the should. After all, the disappearance of Bella Goth, Mortimer’s long lost wife, was the one case the PVPD had never solved.
When they left, however, Mortimer fixed this little girl with a stern and knowing look. All he said was, “there’s a new grave in the family cemetery.”
“Is there?” Cassandra asked sweetly.
“You were very luck they didn’t think to look, Cassandra,” Mortimer told her.
She shrugged. “It’s like you said, Daddy… people go missing in Pleasantview all the time. And sometimes, I suspect, cow plants get hungry.”
She smiled and then stood up from her seat on the sofa. Smoothing the crease in her pants, she said, “I think I hear Darla. It’s time for her bottle now.”
It was the baby Mortimer worried about most of all. He loved his daughter, and he knew without a doubt that his priority was to protect her.. because if he couldn’t, his grand daughter could grow up without a mother, too.
Resigned to what he knew he must do, he picked up the telephone and dialed a number he had been loathe to dial before. The little punk was no better than his father, and his father before him, and his father before him but he had the resources to ensure that Cassandra and Darla would be safely out of reach of the PVPD.
“Hello, Malcolm? It’s Mortimer Goth… I am calling in The Favor.”
The Favor. Everyone in Pleasantview knew that the Goths were what you call ‘old money.’ Old money was eccentric, with deep, deep pockets and even deeper, darker secrets. There were other such families in Simmerica. The Crumplebottoms, the Montys, the Capps… the Landgraabs.
Years and years ago, Mortimer’s grandfather had saved the life one Malcolm Landraab the… Something. Their family had owed the Goths for generations. Now, that debt was being called in.
“Cassandra, sweetheart, we have to talk…” Mortimer said, approaching his daughter with a heavy heart. He did not want to do this, but what choice did he have?
“Yes, Daddy?” she asked with the same elusive sweetness her demeanor had taken on since Don jilted her at the alter.
Sighing deeply, he told her what she had to do, concluding with, “I’ve made all the arrangements. You must leave as soon as you can pack your things.”
“But Daddy… I … I don’t understand,” she protested.
“Yes, dear, I think you do. Please be safe, my Cassie.”
The next morning, Cassandra hugged her little brother tightly before he went to school. She couldn’t even tell him that she was going, or why there were tears in her eyes when he waved and said innocently, “see you later, Cassie!”
“No, Alex… no you won’t,” she whispered as she watched him hurry down the stairs and towards the waiting school bus.
The house in Bluewater Village was a small, one bedroom disaster. The bedroom was downstairs… the front door was upstairs… and there was no room for baby Darla to grow up. But Mr. Landgraab - “Please, call me Malcolm” - assured her that she would be safe there and that he would be looking out for her.
Time passed in a haze of dirty diapers and naps.
Occassionally, Cassandra would get phone calls from some unlisted number. They would hang up when she answered the phone. Sometimes, she thought it might be Darren trying to find out what happened to her. She would have liked that, except that her father warned her it would not be safe to contact anyone from back home. But when the first phone call came after she switched phone numbers, she thought that maybe it was Don.
And it would certainly not do for him to be calling her, now would it?
Little Darla - who recently celebrated her fourth birthday - became a tether for Cassandra. Her beautiful little beacon of light and hope.
And then there was Malcolm. He wasn’t so bad, really, once she got over the fact that he acted like he ran all of Bluewater Village just because he owed more businesses than any one else.
He listened to her ranting and raving about how lonely she was… he listened to her complaints about the cramped studio dwelling.
And he even offered comfort in the form of unexpected affection.
In some ways, Cassandra was getting over her longings for the home - and the man - she’d left behind. She didn’t even seem quite so angry at Don anymore… now that he’d finally quite stalking her cell phone.
Mirrored from The Simming Life.