". . .No, no, it's fine"

". . . Thank you, it's more than I could ask"

". . . . You may have known him better than me, I hope my father would be. . ."

". . .You take care as well. Thank you again."

Willow sighed as she put her scroll down on the desk she sat at, then rested her head on her hands.

It was tough going, making so little progress everyday. When she still yet had so far to go.

The man she had just talked to, was named Walther Regen. He had been a friend of her father and was now one of the few people left at the company from that time. Jacques had replaced almost every person with someone he thought more loyal, better able to control. It was better that way for any less than moral, or legal, decisions he wanted to make.

But Regen had too many contacts in partner companies, and was too well liked by his subordinates. So he was one of the few not fired, forced to resign, or more forcibly "retired".

Willow had known the man well from when she was a little girl, he was always kind to her.

She was more than relieved when she reached out to him that he was willing to help. It seemed that even after all these years he hadn't changed much; still remembering what the company used to be. And the person she used to be.

He had promised to help in what ways he could; provide as many resources that he could without raising suspicions and to try to convince the few other board members not devoted to Jacques to be on her side when the time came.

Regen said that he thought Nicolas would be proud of his daughter, for standing up and fighting.

Willow hoped he was right.

While making headway had been slow going, she wasn't completely failing to find support. An endless stream of copious letters, emails, and phone calls had yielded some results.

A lender who had known Nicolas agreed to give a loan no one reasonably would, but they said if Willow was anything like him they could count on it being paid back in full.

The passing years had made an old friend from Atlas Academy the owner of her family's business, that unbeknownst to Willow until now. Willow had thought it unlikely that Viktoria would help, not having even spoken to her in such a long time. Though, as it turned out, not to have been as long as she thought; the white haired woman just having been too drunk to remember it. Maybe it was out of pity, maybe it was the good heart that Willow remembered, but Viktoria agreed to help with what influence she had. It might mean another council member on her side.

Knowing that her former partner still cared mattered as much to Willow as any other help she could provide.

Though even all this wouldn't be enough, and it took more work to get than she had done in the last two decades. But Willow was making progress.

In some places at least; despite her efforts of dozens of calls and emails, no one seemed to know where Weiss was. That worried her a little, but did not surprise her. Willow had to take some time to convince herself that her little girl was a woman now, one that was able to take care of herself. Or so she hoped.

Still Ironwood's aid was the most important, without James Willow knew she wouldn't have been able to do any of this.

She got up from the chair in the office which she was sitting, making her way the short distance to the kitchen of this apartment. It was no Schnee manor, but functional, and to Willow there was an appeal to the compactness and streamlining.

With the things that Klein had sent over, to Willow's surprise, over the last couple of weeks the flat actually sort of felt like home.

Maybe because it had been a very long time since her real home had felt that way.

A coffee machine was sat upon the, of course white like nearly everything else, counter. Willow made a mug of black coffee.

This might be becoming a new addiction, Willow conceded to herself. She needed a few cups to make it through the day, and when recently there was a day she hadn't, it had been very unpleasant. Though the amount of stress, and the correlative lack of sleep, probably had a substantial amount to do with it.

It was at least better than her last addiction, she thought. When dependent on caffeine people were still functional; as businesswomen, as people, . . . as mothers.

As she took the first sip of her steaming beverage, a knock came at the door. Three taps with military precision.

Willow made her way to the apartment's door. Looking through the peephole it was a soldier; a young man.

How surprising, considering she was on a military base and all.

She unlocked the multiple locks and opened the door.

"Good evening Ma'am. I have a letter for you." The soldier said, extending his arm which held out a crisp, stark white envelope.

Marred only by the Schnee seal emblazoned in a pale blue.

She knew this couldn't be good.

"Thank you," Willow responded as she accepted the letter. The man saluted and marched off.

The door was shut, then quickly and carefully relocked.

Willow stared down at that letter as she walked back to the office. Fear and worry welling up in her.

She sat down at the desk, and continued to look at that envelope for a long time. Not even Willow knew exactly how long as possibilities rattled through her brain.

Let's get this over with. She eventually thought.

The seal was torn away with wanton disregard, the importance it signified to so many no longer holding to her. Willow unfolded the paper, and began to read what was written.

It was not long, but even still her hands began to shake as she was not half way through.

Tears started to cascaded down her cheeks as she continued to read, smudging the ink as they below.

It was much worse than she had dreaded.

It was from her son.

Her little Whitley.

Dear Mother,

When father told me that you had left I was very disappointed. The fact that you have chosen to neglect your responsibilities as a Schnee even more than you had previously is quite a depressing notion. Father and I did hope that Weiss and Winter would be the last two Schnees to disgrace themselves and turn their backs on our family.

This outcome, while wholey regretful, has not come as a surprise to me. The state that you found yourself in most days is evidence enough for this turn of events to have been predictable.

My sisters have told me of how years ago, when I was too young to recall, when you acted properly as both a mother and as a member of the Schnee family. Winter has repeatedly assured me that you were the epitome of an elegant business woman and of a caring mother. These stories used to give me hope.

I no longer believe her.

I can not recall the last time that you took any noticeable interest in any of your duties. You have only gone to events that you were absolutely required, only conducting your obligations when you had no choice. And still, only then when there was there a way to feed your addiction.

I only wish that you had shown me the attention you bestowed upon those bottles.

If you still in any way care, that despite how you have disregarded the company and Schnee name father and I will not. Your absence may even be the best thing you have done for either in years.

I do not care if you ever come back.

Your son,

Whitley Schnee

The white haired woman put her head down on the desk and sobbed.

Jacques had had the letter written and sent, that was certain, but Willow was sure those were truly Whitley's words.

Willow knew in her heart what the truth was as it stood. That she hadn't done anything for her son to deserve anything but the contempt that she was being given. That she had neglected her baby boy most of all.

But that only made it hurt more.

Willow could feel herself falling back in to the place she had been for so long, the one she had just escaped. Dark claws digging into her soul once again.

She threw Eisdunst across the apartment without even looking up, clattering off the wall before landing some place she didn't care.

Every regret was drawn up from the depth it lay, so many past failures creeping in.

Dad deserved a child who would destroy everything.

I don't deserve to be called a mother.

How could I do this to my own children?

I've failed the company. I've failed my family.

Every single fear she prominently reared their ugly heads, blending in to a horrible future.

How am I ever going to win?

No one beats Jacques, and he's beaten me so many times.

I'm just going to hurt more people.

People who are only helping me out of pity.

It would be better if I just wasn't here. . .

In the maelstrom of misery in her mind that continued to send her spiraling down, only one thought stood out above the rest.

"I need a drink"

Hope y'all like it :)

I'm planing on at least 3 more chapters now.