Victoire went on the record claiming her husband
accidentally slipped and fell to his death. The press kept busy recapping
Prentice’s stellar career, their lenses focused on the beautiful,
grief-stricken widow.
Willy Waites’ name was
never mentioned. After he managed to calm Victoire the night of Peter’s
suicide, he agreed to disappear before the police arrived on the scene. “God
forbid they think you and I were in cahoots and pushed him overboard to get to
his money,” she told him. “Stay away until it dies down. Please, I can’t risk
losing you, too!”
He
kissed her goodbye and bolted back to his apartment shaking like a leaf. Willy
understood how Victoire suffered from shock after seeing Peter commit suicide
despite her attempts to dissuade him. Deep down he felt sorry for the man and
realised the courage it took Prentice to spare his wife from an imminent
scandal.
Willy tried to see Victoire but to no avail; his
only contact with her was by phone. “Victoire, I need to see you even if it’s
clear across the room. I’m miserable without you,” he said aching for his
beloved’s touch.
“Sweet, sweet Willy,”
she cooed. “I barely sleep these days with everything I’ve lived through. I
look like a wreck. My stepfather has arranged for me to spend two weeks in a
clinic. It’s in Switzerland.”
The last time Willy saw
her was at Peter’s funeral two months earlier and at a considerable distance. “When
are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow.” She
overheard his groan of pain.
“Promise me you’ll come to see me the minute I
return? Please Willy?”
Two weeks after her
departure, Willy turned up with an engagement ring in his jacket pocket. Instead of seeing her radiant face, he
was greeted by movers. Later, he phoned the residence of Dr. and Mrs. Vestey,
but he was told they were out of the country.
That same week an
article about Peter appeared in the local paper. It claimed his estimated worth
was fifty million dollars, three of which went to an arthritic foundation in
New York.
Willy never heard from
Victoire again, and he subsisted in a state of despondency. Family and friends
rallied round to keep him from slipping away, but the broken-hearted man never
revealed the name of his lover to another human being.
Artemis eventually intervened
and urged Willy’s partner to temporarily take over all administrative duties
and allow Willy to immerse himself in the creative side of business.
The arrangement paid
off. The three-year retreat into his tormented mind unlocked keystone ideas that
would revolutionize computer programming. A week before his thirtieth birthday,
the shy, intelligent face of Willy Waites graced the covers of Newsweek and Time on the same week.
Waites’ claim to fame
was a software package called ViperSoft, used by banks worldwide used to keep
track of individual financial transactions. His wealth ranked just behind the
Sultan of Brunei.
Willy and wife Julie,
whom he met in the R & D department at Bassadai, became dedicated
philanthropists. The couple had six children and was happily married. They
shunned publicity, and their children attended local public schools in
Atherton, California.
Victoire’s career
prospects later exceeded her expectations when she married the president of
Bolivia. The pock marked dictator and his high society wife lived like king and
queen of La Paz for ten years until a military coup resulted in the couple
being gunned down as they tried to board an awaiting helicopter to flee the
country.
A sizeable portion of country’s coffers was found
in thirty-two pieces of designer luggage aboard the aircraft.
Most recently, CNN
reported an unexpected private donation of computers to Bolivia with the aim of
facilitating the growth of democracy and getting the economy of the debt ravaged
country back on its feet.
The
ten million dollar gift remained anonymous.
