the last great american dynasty

mad woman

  Betty walked into her house with her heels clicking loudly onto the recently polished wooden floors, her face as red as the sun that recently had set. She stomped straight towards the music room, ignoring all the maids as she passed them by.

  There was a purpose as to why she expanded the house to its current size. If she was being honest, she never really liked her children. She had never wanted to bring new lives into this sadistic world, but life happened. And now there she was, widowed after her husband had passed away due to a sudden heart attack, with three children. To this day, she had no idea whether she loved Bill. Maybe she loved him enough to bring Edith to life and to be by his side during his last days. Maybe she loved the idea of a wealthy husband. Again, she would never know.

  The house was big, and she may have gone overboard with the renovations, but it was big enough so that the children would seldom be able to find their mother as they were handed off to the maids that would go around the house, cleaning and managing it.

  She whipped her arm and sent her leather bag onto the couch, she immediately sat at the waxed ebony grand piano that was set up near the top left corner of the extravagant room, facing the windows that stared out into the infinite sea. There were shiny brown leather couches that turned to face the piano so she could entertain her guests whenever they would arrive for the weekly extortionate parties the house held. The room was painted in her signature shade of blue, other than the ceiling, which was kept cream white. A pricey diamond, gold, and glass chandelier was suspended in the middle of the ceiling, and with the help of the flower-shaped wall lights around the room's walls, the music room was lit up to the perfect lighting, according to herself.

  She violently pushed the lid open to where she was sure that it would've decomposed itself from the rest of the piano (which did not happen), and indignantly started playing the instrument, producing whatever tune that her fingers performed.

  With all the money she got from her husband's passing, she took Robert's floundering ballet company under her wing and started sponsoring the ballet troupe. She went far and beyond to shower them with unnecessary things like first-class accommodations, gifts, and plastic surgeries - she gave the company as much as they needed as if it were her own.

  She had given him almost her all, and all she asked for when the company started to pick itself back up and flourish, was to perform her best pieces. She was very confident in everything she had worked on and created, that it would earn her more money. Robert and his team had subtly hinted that they did not wish to perform any of her work, saying that they always lacked something, and yet he copied the concept of her work and rebranded them as his own. And finally, after years of requesting and working twice as hard as anyone did, she stood up to Robert. However, the confrontation failed as he yelled about the schlock she wrote and how bad they were. Vexed, she left the room without a single emotion on her face.

  She held a scowl on her face as her fingers smoothed over the black and whites, playing something in a minor key. Robert had used her and she gave into him. She wondered what he thought she would've said to him when he openly mocked her and she grew a backbone. She also wondered what he would hum on the way home. Images of him whistling and singing along to other people's work appeared in her head, but the second she envisioned him humming along to her masterpieces that he called sub-par, the fingers on the glossy wooden keys weren't so gentle anymore as the volume ascended alongside the force used on them.

  She stopped, swiftly making sure that nothing was damaged, before returning to her original position and continuing playing the same tune. Betty pondered over if Robert would see her face on the old woman's one who lived next door to him, who would come out and water the plants when the sky was dark. She conjectured on whether he would be haunted by her or not, to the point where the sight of the old lady's smile could glitch and turn into a madwoman mouthing "F*uck you forever."