New York City
June 14, 1956
Actress turned Princess Catherine Ann Stratton, worshiped by millions, “her people” didn’t follow her out of fear, they followed her by a greater drive, love. When someone fears a person they’ll do anything to satisfy them until they’re not a threat, but when someone loves a person they’ll do anything for them and even if that person stops loving them or betrays them they’ll keep on loving them; for a loved one can do no wrong in the eyes of the beholder. That was why she was so powerful, not only by fear, but by love. Why they loved her, is still a mystery, even to this day. Why would they love some actress turned princess, who did nothing on the throne, so much? Love her to an extent of claiming her a saint and praying to her as if she was Christ. What did she do for them? She was more Marie Antoinette than Jesus. She did nothing for them and was never there for them, ever. She spent more time spending money than in their welfare. The only person there for them was the infamous VC, yes thee 1920s outlaw, VC, who robbed banks, killed many men, and kidnapped the Princess Catherine in her teens. Who was this VC and why would this outlaw have such interest in such a torn country? Was it because of Catherine?
James Drake, tried for Catherine kidnapping in ’26, was the first suspect, for he did have tattoo letters “VC” on his upper back. But strangely he was found innocent after Catherine got a threat by VC on the night of June 23, one of the nights where James was in jail on close watch. It was proved he wasn’t VC, but even with proof it still didn’t add up with the evidence of the tattoo, what did it mean? It’s too great of evidence to be coincidence. VC, what does it stand for?
Then there’s the speculation that Catherine made the whole thing up as a cover to her supposed scandalous side, a speculation made by the actor Orin Riles, who stared with Catherine in the movie Demon with an Angel’s Face in 1928. Catherine was rumored to be romantically linked to the actor before her marriage to Prince Regaldi. There was something about their relationship that was somewhat odd. When Catherine became a suspect in the murder of conservative film Director William Tyler , after they found a robe with her initials on it at the scene of the crime, Orin was her alibi. His alibi was quite odd, on the night of the murder he claimed that she was over at his loft running lines together, he claimed he accidentally shot her in the shoulder with what he thought was a unloaded gun while they were physically performing a scene from their movie. He testified that because of getting wounded she spent all night at his loft getting privately treated by his doctor, who was also present in the courtroom. The alibi was bought since Catherine did indeed have a built wound. It was believed that perhaps their relationship was more than romantic when was later known that Orin Riles was indeed involved with the mafia. After the movie was done filming he became engaged to Maria Casoni, daughter of mob boss Tony Casoni, an engagement that broke when Orin left her at the alter after discovering Catherine’s engagement to Prince Reginald. As we all know Catherine’s father Ormond Stratton, was believed to have helped the mob bootleg liquor, which allegedly resulted in Catherine being kidnapped at age nine by them after Stratton made a mistake. And coincidently the majority of men VC killed were mobsters. Could Orin’s theory be true? Could VC be Catherine out for revenge? If so, then was her death murder? Suspiciously after Catherine’s death in ’31 from a supposed “boating accident” Orin Riles disappeared without a trace. Or are “her people” right, did Prince Reginald murder her in fear of her becoming too powerful?
Other rumors to the mystery, speculate that VC is none other than the last heir Colin Arthur Stanimir Calvanov, whose body wasn’t found in the rubble. Prince Colin, the one and only son of the lethal ruler Stanimir Stephen Sergei Calvanov, born in 1904, he was the one destined to follow in his father’s glorious tyrant footsteps. Was there perhaps a plan to save the heir? The little heir was very sickly from an unknown illness, too weak to survive the brutal shooting. And once again we’re brought to Ormond Stratton, the ambassador involved with the mob, he was the one who brought the family to safety in New York; he was the one who was supposed to protect them. Why did he fail to save them? The assassinators were never found nor tried; they were believed to be terrorists-revolutionaries. One fixation about the Calvanov Dynasty is that they had billions dollars worth of jewels hidden away and never found. Only the family members knew where it was hidden, and so with one alive, the precious gems can be found. Could VC be the last heir? If so, is his constant kidnapping and possible murder of Catherine a vengeful act on Ormond?
I learned how they all fit together after everything I had believed in changed forever when I was first separated from my beloved father.
I was in an orphanage at St. Mary's Convent being interogated to tell what I already have told...the truth.
“Will you quit telling these lies child!”
“My father is Orin Riles!” I demanded to Sister Emily.
“Orin Riles, the actor. Orin Riles does not have a daughter and everybody knows that,” she dared to question me..
“How could everybody know he doesn’t have a daughter when nobody knows who Orin Riles really is?” I spat at her
“Nonsense,” she laughed.
“Just wait…my father will come for me.”
“Well, till then child, till then.”
I wasn’t prepared for something like that to happen. I never would have dreamed I’d end up here, but it happened and here I was, all alone at eleven, mistaken for a pathological liar of an orphan. I saw the way they looked at me, how their eyes revealed such pity for me…all but one. Eyes that were entrancing and yet cold in a domeering way.
“I believe you,” the woman stated as she emerged from a dark window sill.
“Really?”
“Tell me, what kind of famous actor keeps his own daughter a secret?” she smiled as if she knew something I didn't.
My father loved me; it wasn’t like he kept me a secret because he was ashamed of me. Oh, did he love me, I was his everything and he was mine. Although I loved him I never really understood him and the things that he did. My father didn’t have one name, he had six different identities, and each came with either a different accent (one of the ups of being a talented actor) or different language. We were always on the run, traveling from place to place in such last minute. As I grew older I suspected that maybe my father was an escaped criminal, I had slim knowledge of who he was, almost as slim of knowledge that I had of my dead mother.
My mother, she was another secret my father kept from me. He never liked to talk about her. All I knew then, and what he told me, was that she died in a tragic boating accident when I was four, I didn’t remember her or what she looked like. I would make her up, who I thought she would be. She was a teacher who was kind and smart, and although reserved she had a hint of an adventurous side that lead to her demise. That was what mademyself believe. I would soon find out that she was far from what I had imagined and that she was.
We were in Switzerland a few months before; I was feeling depressed and sick of always moving. It was then that my father decided we should go to New York and this time he promised me he’d enroll me in a school. I was so excited, a real school, a school filled with kids my age. I was used to being only tutored by him. He taught all that I know, even the languages he knew. Though sometimes I believed he only taught me everything to avoid telling me the truth.
The time that we were in New York was one of our most peaceful times and for a while I had a normal life. It was that year I was introduced to Mimi, an old friend of my fathers as he told me, but I believed they were actually more than that. I had even thought at first that she was my mother. Nonetheless, we were happy, I was enrolled in school and made friends and seemed like I was going to have a mother.
Then the worst happened when my father picked me up from school, and saw the look on his face, the look he always gave me before we moved. And as the naïve girl I was, I was furious. He knew how I felt and tried to make it up to me by more promises. Always promises but never the truth.
“Can’t I just go to school one day more?” I pleaded.
“I don’t think it’s possible, Dove,” he said as he packed
“Please, I need to say goodbye to my friends.”
“We can’t, you know that.”
He always assumed I knew everything.
“No I don’t, you don’t tell me anything! Did you rob a bank? Is that why we’re always rich and on the run?” I demanded, getting in his way as he walked to his closet.
“Not now,” he said going around me.
“When?!”
“Get packed,” he said calmly, ignoring me.
I had enough; I wanted an explanation more than an extra day, “No,” I said slamming the closet door shut.
“I don’t have time for this, Dove.”
As the child of an actor, I could act too, and just as well. I made my eyes water on purpose, and moped around the house ignoring him and not packing. And after an hour he finally “If you finish packing I’ll let you go to school tomorrow.”
I smiled, knowing I had won.
It sickens me how much of a manipulating spoiled brat I was, and it was later that I learned that this particular flair didn’t exactly come from my father.
The next day he drove me to school and this time parked in front of the library.
“As soon as school’s over you meet me right here, do you understand?” he said
“Yes.” I was anxious to get to school, “Why here though, why can’t you pick me up at school?”
“Because.”
“Where are going,” I asked nonchalantly.
“Where do you want to go?”
“New Jersey,” I tested.
“Too close, how about France, you liked France.”
“Bye.” I groaned as I got out of the car.
I hated France. He knew my French was poor and living there wouldn’t improve it.
“Love you,” he called out to me.
“Love you too,” I yelled as I ran.
That was the last time I saw him…if only I had known.
School ended and I said goodbye to everyone and got addresses to write to. And as my father instructed I walked to the city library. I had to be nice to my father when he came and be thankful he gave me an extra day even though I dreaded leaving again. I’m old enough to know the truth, no matter how bad it is. I’m not a child anymore! I stopped, is thi the right library? To my surprise he wasn’t there. Probably doing last minute packing, he’ll be here soon
An hour past and he wasn’t there, he was never late, never. I waited and assured myself that maybe he had to go somewhere before. It was getting dark and I was growing more nervous and scared. Something must have happened to him, he must have been caught. The only way he prepared me for this situation was an address, that’s all, an address to a place far from here. I was underage with no money, there was no way I could get there. He assumed that I would be intact with our money then, he never dreamed I would be alone in a city when it happened for he never left me alone.
What am I going to do? Daddy where are you? I hated myself, It’s all my fault! I should never had made him stay an extra day! I sat there crying on the steps, What if they kill him? No, oh God, please no! I didn’t know where to go, it was now five o’clock the sun was coming down. Maybe I could go to Jenny’s…but they’ll ask questions. I can’t go to the police, they might be looking for my father and demand more questions and put me in some children’s home
There was only place I could go, one person who could help, the one person my father forbidden me to ever see…my grandmother. What other choice do I have?
Her apartment was located at one on the poorest, dangerous and dirtiest areas in the city, it was a miracle that a little girl like me didn’t raped or killed on the way there. It was stupid of me to walk there at night. I remember going there once, I was really young, too young, but for some reason I remember the apartment. Luckily I knew the address for my father sends money there all the time. If he hates her so much, why does he send her money?
I went to the doorway and knocked in fear of what was coming.
“I’m coming, hold on, I’m coming Stu!”
The door was opened by an old woman with caked on make-up and a frilly peignoir, she was familiar to me, I seen her before but I couldn’t remember. This was her? It couldn't be. What kind of woman was my mother coming from her?
“Jesus, I thought you were the landlord,” I was in awe of her and couldn’t utter a word, “Well speak up child! Who are you?”
“Um…I’m your Granddaughter—“ I stuttered.
“Dove?! I can’t believe it! You came!” She embraced me tightly, “Come in child! Come in!” She pulled me in and shut the door, “What brought your tight-ass father to allow me to see you? Who cares, you’re here! Oh how you’ve grown, last time I saw you, you were to my knees!”
I was too overwhelmed to say anything, why did my father forbid her from seeing me? There had to be a reason.
“You must be hungry,” she went to the kitchen and opened the pantry.
I took a look at her apartment; I could see one reason why my father kept me away. Her apartment was a mess, clothes were everywhere, rotten food all over the place, the bathroom mirror was smeared with make-up, the furniture was ratted, rust and grime were everywhere to be seen, the wallpaper was stained with God knows what, the whole apartment was a chaotic mess. This was where my mother grew up, I thought. How horrible!
“Well, honey I only have olives, don’t worry though tomorrow we’ll go to the store or something” she looked at me and then took offense at my quietness and right before my eyes changed moods, “Don’t look at me like that, I’m doing the best I can, it’s the depression damn it. Your father spoiled you so much that you expect everything that you get to be as good as the Ritz or some other five-star hotel! Where the hell is your father anyway? What the hell are you doing here wandering in a place like this? Speak up, damn it! God damnit, he’s going to kill me! He’s going to charge me with kidnapping, probably put me away this time!”
Maybe she does need to be put away, I thought. Her outburst scared me, no one ever yelled at me before.
“My father didn’t pick me up from school,” I meekly said.
“And so you decided to come here?”
“Yeah,” I said afraid she was going to yell again.
“Any idea on where he could be?”
“No,” I paused, “I think they got him.”
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know, he never told me anything.”
“What do you mean he’s never told you anything?” she sneered.
My heart raced, this mad woman knows the truth, She is my mother’s mother, she has to know, and so my manipulative self got to work, “He hasn’t told me anything, nothing, all I know about him is that he was a famous actor and all I know about my mother was that she died in a boating accident, and I don’t even know what she looks like! We’re always on the run; I don’t even know his real name, or my real name. Please tell me what horrible crime has he done that makes us live like this?”
She smiled, taking out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket of her bagging sack like dress, “The crime your father committed was surviving.”
“I don’t understand.”
She laughed, lighting her cigarette with a match, “Sit down, little Dove, this is going to be awhile. I want to tell you a story, a romantic fairy tale about two lovers…”
“What does this have to do with my father?”
“Everything my little Dove,” she smiled, “Once upon a time…”
In that one night I learned the full truth of my parents and then I knew what my father was protecting me from…
“An actor with a past. My father kept me a secret to protect me,” I finally told the woman at the orphanage.
I looked at her. She was rather beautiful. I couldn't imagine what would bring a woman like herself here.
“From whom?” She asked.
“From his past,” I looked at her dead on.
“Who exactly is Orin Riles?” she coaxed giving me that same smile.
“My father,” I said nobly with my head up.
