Mrs. Shinra - 1996
Vivian Shinra strode with purpose down the hall of the modest topside apartment building. Her lawyers had all advised her against coming here, but she could tell from the look in their eyes that they didn't think much of her chances no matter what she did, so what did their opinions matter? She was sick of the condescension of men.
She pressed the buzzer without hesitation.
A woman perhaps ten years her senior answered the door, though the strawberry blonde of her hair lent her a youthful appearance. Vivian recognized her from televised events where she had stood beside her husband, no doubt advised by his PR team on how to be pretty and proper and silent.
"...you," she said, and Vivian wondered if the former Mrs. Shinra recognized her in the same way. She'd certainly wondered if his latest mistresses did, if such women even watched the news.
"Isabel Raleigh?" Vivian didn't need confirmation, but she was a woman of propriety, and it seemed improper to proceed as though they'd met before.
Of course, it was also improper to have stolen someone's husband.
"What are you doing here?" Isabel asked sharply, clearly deciding the latter offense held more weight.
"I have a proposition for you," said Vivian.
"A proposition?" Isabel repeated flatly. "There's nothing you could offer me that I would want."
She started to close the door, and Vivian spoke hurriedly:
"What about a second chance to take him down?"
The door stopped, Isabel's face framed in the narrow opening. She gave Vivian a hard look, making no effort to disguise her suspicion, but at length she stepped back, pulling the door open wider.
"I'll give you ten minutes to explain what the hell you mean by that," she said.
"I won't need ten minutes, unless you need me to repeat things you already know."
Vivian stepped into the apartment, glancing around. Isabel had, of course, been wealthy in her own right, a member of the high society crowd that had helped to bankroll Midgar's construction. The divorce proceedings had been as brutal as they were hidden from the public eye, and while they hadn't reduced her to the indignity of the undercity, the apartment was one Vivian considered distinctly lower class. She could see directly into the kitchen from the tiny living space, and it probably only had the one bedroom. A single pair of shoes sat beside the door, worn and practical.
The same was true of Isabel's attire: she dressed for comfort, not appearances. Vivian had always found that distasteful, but she couldn't deny there was something rebellious in it. That had its appeal.
Isabel shut the door behind them. "Well?"
"I'll get to the point," said Vivian. "I'm divorcing him. We both know he'll have the upper hand. He has all the Company's resources at his disposal, including the Turks."
Isabel scoffed. "Do you expect me to be sympathetic that you're going through the same thing you put me through?"
"No. But I'd be surprised if you went a day without hating him." Vivian took another pointed glance around the apartment. An apartment for one. "You've been through this before, which means you know his tricks. You may even have dirt on him that I don't know about."
"So I help you, and what do I get out of it, besides the satisfaction of dragging his name through the mud?"
"There's one thing I want to fight for that I imagine you'd be keenly interested in sharing," said Vivian. "Rufus."
Isabel's expression slackened in surprise. Godric Shinra had taken everything he felt belonged to him, and that included his son. Vivian didn't know what arguments he had presented to claim full custody, but she knew that Rufus hadn't seen his birth mother since the divorce. She was banking on the idea that Isabel didn't much care for that arrangement.
Anger quickly followed Isabel's surprise. "He isn't even your son," she said.
"That doesn't mean I don't care about him," Vivian said evenly. She hadn't when she had married Godric, but she wasn't heartless. "Godric isn't interested in being a father. I suspect he never was. All he wants is an heir so his empire can go on for eternity."
Isabel folded her arms. "And that bothers you enough that you'd want him? The responsibility of being his mother?"
"I already am his mother. For six years, that boy's been coming to me for solace. When his father neglects him, when his teachers belittle him, and when he gets angry that he isn't what any of them want him to be. I don't think they should get to mould him. We don't need another Shinra."
Isabel was quiet as her anger slowly dissipated. "...how is he?" she asked.
"He's fifteen," said Vivian, "so he's angry a lot. He's struggling. He doesn't know who he is yet."
Isabel stood looking at her for a long moment. She dropped her arms, folded them again. "I want it in writing," she decided. "That you'll share custody with me. Then I'll give you what I have."
Vivian nodded. "I'll have my lawyers draw something up."
"Good," said Isabel. There was a pause, and she expected Isabel to ask her to leave, but instead she turned and walked into the kitchen, motioning for Vivian to follow. "So, what did he do?" she asked, pulling a pair of mismatched glasses out of her cupboard. "Is he cheating on you, too?"
Vivian shook her head. "I knew about the call girls. I decided it was good; there are things I don't want to do, so if it gets them out of his system, fine. But lately..." She hesitated. They were strangers, but at the same time, she knew Isabel understood her situation more intimately than anyone else could. "The war isn't going well," she went on. "They're keeping it out of the press, but barring some kind of miracle, Shinra is going to lose. And I'm sure you know, he can't stand losing."
Isabel paused to look her over, as if Vivian would have let anything show through her make-up. "Has he...?"
"No. I ran into one of his girls in the elevator. Bruises on her wrists. She said it was just part of a game, but they only have to lie well enough for the men. I'm getting out while I can."
"Assuming that's possible," Isabel said, not unsympathetically. She had retrieved a half-empty bottle of cheap bourbon, and she poured a little into each glass before handing one to Vivian.
Vivian didn't drink bourbon, but she took it anyway, to be polite. She took a sip, and didn't let her distaste show in her expression.
"If you've hired lawyers," said Isabel, "then he already knows this is coming."
"He hasn't said anything, but you're probably right."
Isabel gave her a look of appraisal. "You'd do well to get the Turks on your side."
"The Turks are loyal to Shinra," Vivian stated.
"They're not only loyal to Shinra."
"What do you mean?"
"As a group, they're more loyal to each other. Oh, they'll stick with Shinra as long as their interests align. But if there's something important to them that isn't important to Shinra..." Isabel let the sentence hang, swirling the bourbon in her glass.
"And you know of something like that?" Vivian wondered skeptically. It was the Turks' job to keep company secrets, and she doubted they advertised their own any more plainly. Vivian couldn't even name most of them.
"I'm suggesting you become something like that," said Isabel.
"What?"
Isabel gave her a flat look. "Don't pretend you've never seduced a man."
Vivian could hardly deny it. Eager for a way out from her father's thumb, she'd set her sights on the most powerful man in the world. No matter that he'd already had a wife; rumor said he wasn't happy with her. Isabel was too outspoken, too determined to be involved, as though she had an equal hand in the company. Vivian had no interest in the company. Godric could do what he wanted, and she would play the public role he demanded, as long as she could claim the prestige it afforded her in turn.
As little interest as she'd had in business, it had been very transactional. Her so-called seduction of him closer to an interview, perhaps, than what Isabel imagined. Godric could have his pick of women to sleep with, but Vivian had understood what he wanted in a wife.
"It's... been some years," was what she said.
"What, he gets to have his fun on the side, but not you?"
"If you consider that 'fun.'"
Isabel rolled her eyes. "Sex with someone who isn't Godric? He might think he's a god in bed, but that never made it true."
"Isn't that how it is with all of them?"
Isabel paused and looked at her again, and this time Vivian couldn't parse her expression.
"What?"
"Are you saying you've never enjoyed it?"
"It's just different for women than it is for men," Vivian stated.
"Oh my gods, Vivian."
Vivian stiffened. "You're going to mock me for not pretending otherwise?"
"No, I'm..." Isabel set her glass down on the counter. "I'm not mocking you. I can't believe it, but you're actually making me feel sorry for you. Look... Come back again when you have the paperwork for me. I'm going to check out some books from the library for you, so you don't have to feel embarrassed about having them under your name. Read them."
"Books? What sort of books?"
"You'll understand when you see them."
Vivian frowned. Still certain Isabel was mocking her, she couldn't put her finger on how. That made it time to leave. She set her glass down, mostly untouched. "Fine. Be as obscure as you like. But I will be coming back, and I'll expect you to have more for me than some silly library books."
Isabel nodded, the steel returning to her expression. "I will. Don't you worry about that. I'd root for anyone going up against Godric, but I want to make sure you win this."
Vivian nodded slowly in turn. Isabel had lost her fight, but Vivian would learn from her mistakes, and she wouldn't lose hers. If it meant putting up with this woman, then she had managed far more boorish individuals.
Vivian came by with papers within the week. She stood primly while Isabel read them through carefully, checking for any loopholes through which her son might slip from her. But it didn't seem like Vivian was trying to get one over on her. Or at least, if she was, then it was through the expectation that Godric would claim custody of Rufus, rendering this agreement moot. If Vivian couldn't win Rufus, then she owed Isabel nothing.
Isabel still thought she wanted to win. At least to spite Godric, if not because she really cared about Rufus. Maybe she did. It was hard to tell.
In return, Isabel passed her a box of papers. Everything she had from her own divorce proceedings, from the official paperwork to notes she'd scrawled during meetings. She left the library books atop the pile, and Vivian pretended not to notice them. She took the box and left.
Isabel decided that was probably the last she'd see of the woman unless she won her case for Rufus. When late fees appeared on her library account, she resigned herself to having to pay to replace the books. She probably should have left well enough alone.
But a few weeks later, she found Vivian waiting outside her door when she got home, her arms folded impatiently. Her arched eyebrow demanded an explanation.
"I was having dinner with a new client," Isabel said, deciding that providing one would be the easiest option. Vivian couldn't have shown up for any pleasant reason.
"A client?" Vivian repeated.
Vivian had found her address, but the woman had no idea what she did for a living, did she? Isabel didn't know whether to find that irritating or refreshing. It was a far cry from her probable Turk stalkers.
"I do the bookkeeping for a few small businesses," she explained, fitting her key to the lock.
"I see," said Vivian, frowning faintly like she couldn't decide whether she needed to care about this.
"Come on in then," Isabel said, leaving the door open for her. "Though I'd appreciate some warning the next time you decide to drop by."
"Do you have a pager?"
Isabel snorted. "Of course I don't have a pager."
"I could get you one."
"I was..." Joking. But Vivian's expression was completely serious. The woman meant to drop by again. "...not expecting you to offer," she finished instead. "I'll think about it."
Vivian closed the door behind her. Isabel dropped her keys and purse on the counter and turned to face her. Vivian seemed more reluctant to get to the point this time, so she'd have to push it herself.
"So I don't know what you're here for, but it isn't to tell me the news. It was all over the tabloids yesterday. I see you're trying to get public opinion on your side."
"Whether I succeed remains to be seen, but... I've lost the private opinion."
It took Isabel a moment to parse what she meant by that. "Your friends have dropped you already?"
"I expected most of them to be fair-weather friends," Vivian admitted. "But not all of them."
Isabel wanted to snap at her. Had she come here for sympathy? Isabel had gone through the same thing, after Vivian had seduced her husband from her. Her divorce had only been publicized after the fact, but Godric had spread rumors among their acquaintance so that by the time it was final, no one was speaking to her. Not a single so-called friend had remained to help her move what belongings he'd left her out of that awful house. She'd crossed out name after name from her address book, ultimately finding herself relying on the kindness of an old university classmate who'd never amounted to enough to care what the rich were up to.
She wanted to snap at Vivian, but if she were being honest with herself, she knew that Godric might have divorced her anyway, new wife or no. Vivian had always been an easy person to hate, when she was a stranger.
It was starting to feel tangled now, watching what had happened to her happen to someone else. Now, Isabel was that last name in Vivian's list she had yet to cross out.
So Isabel let out a heavy sigh and went to her fridge, pulling out a recently-opened bottle of wine. As she poured it, she watched Vivian visibly bite back a remark about how she was using the wrong type of glasses.
"Thank you," said Vivian. "Honestly, I was starting to think you were home and just ignoring me at your door. I wouldn't have blamed you."
"Tempting," Isabel conceded. "You never were my favorite person. But I expect a lot of your 'friends' are the same bitches who dumped me. So fuck them."
Vivian smiled, her relief in commiseration clearly winning out over any discomfort with coarse language. "Fuck them," she agreed, lifting her glass.
Isabel tapped it with hers and took a sip. Vivian took more of a gulp. "If there's one benefit to being poor," Isabel added, "it's that you know no one is hanging around you for the money. Even if he cleans you out, you can take comfort in that."
Vivian huffed. "I don't intend to," she said. She set her glass down and reached into her purse. "By the way, I returned your books. I know they were late, but I hope this is enough to cover the fees?"
Isabel raised an eyebrow at the 5000 gil note. "You've never used a library before, have you?"
"Any service that's offered for free can't be very good," Vivian sniffed.
"You know, Midgar's transit system is actually quite impressive."
"I have a car."
"Of course you do," Isabel said, and took the money. Even the replacement fees wouldn't have come close, but Vivian owed her plenty.
They relocated to the living area, where Vivian gave the sofa a once-over before allowing her expensive skirt to make contact with the worn cushions. She was dressed in the latest fashion, of course, almost picture-perfect save for the strands of blonde hair that had slipped out of her updo. Isabel didn't think the color was natural. Everyone knew President Shinra preferred blondes.
"They aren't even the worst part," Vivian sighed. "He's angry with me, too."
Isabel frowned at her in confusion. It couldn't be unexpected that Godric would be angry, so...
"Rufus," Vivian clarified.
Isabel dropped her gaze into her wine glass. "I think he's in his rights to be angry that he's being put through this again."
"I know. It's just... He's older this time. What he wants is going to be a bigger factor in deciding custody."
"...you think he's going to choose Godric?"
"I don't know," said Vivian. "But he desperately wants his father's approval. In the mental calculus of a teenage boy... Siding with Godric might earn him his father's affection. It won't lose him mine."
Isabel took a sip, wondering if he really did know that. Did he know she still cared about him, even after all these years? "...did you tell him about me?" she asked.
Vivian shook her head. "I meant to, but I think it's best to wait until he calms down."
"He does miss me, doesn't he? Or..."
"You know he hated me at first," said Vivian. "Every little thing I did, he'd tell me how you did it differently. I didn't know much about being a parent. So, I listened."
"To a nine-year-old?" Isabel wondered.
"Within reason. Obviously when he told me you let him have a glass of wine with dinner, he was being a brat. But when he said you were going to send him to school, I looked into it."
Isabel was quiet for a moment. Godric had wanted Rufus tutored at home, convinced it would provide his son the finest possible education, but Isabel had seen how lonely it made him. They'd argued over it often. It was an argument she had assumed was lost with the divorce.
"...you enrolled him in the Academy," she realized. When Vivian gave her a surprised look, she elaborated, "It was in a magazine article. Some fluff piece about how the new 'family' was getting on."
"I remember when they took the photos for that," Vivian said. "Rufus hated it. I told him we wouldn't do it again."
Isabel still had the pages tucked into her nightstand with the photos of Rufus in his sharp school uniform. At the time, she'd concluded that Godric had only argued against it because it was her idea, and maybe that was a part of it. But Vivian had taken it up.
And Vivian was the reason she knew so little about her son in the intervening years. Not that it would have been an honest window into his life. She would only have known the same carefully-crafted image as any other woman on the street.
"Did he make friends?" she wondered.
"A few," Vivian confirmed. "A lot at first, before he learned how to pick out the ones who were only after his name. I hope he's better at that than us, anyway."
"I hope so, too. I hope he has his own friends to complain to tonight."
Vivian looked at her, and Isabel realized she had implied the two of them were friends. Rather than address the unspoken question, she got up to fetch the bottle.
They worked their way through it as the evening wore on, though Vivian refilled her glass more times than Isabel. She complained about Godric, but mostly, they talked about Rufus. Vivian seemed nearly as eager for stories of his early childhood as Isabel was for anecdotes from his teenage years. Isabel had an album in her closet, but Godric didn't hang onto the keepsakes that marked his son's development. Rufus was like a possession, where only the having of him mattered.
They reached the bottom of the bottle. Vivian rose unsteadily on her heels, and Isabel insisted she stay put right where she was. She wouldn't use the trains, and she was in no shape to be driving home. Isabel watched Vivian's eyes grow wide with the realization that Isabel intended for her to sleep on the couch.
Impressively, she managed not to voice what an affront she found that. Isabel brought her a blanket, and she settled down without much fuss. She was asleep almost instantly.
Isabel thought sleep would come as easily for her, but she found herself lying awake, recalling every story Vivian had told her, tracing the words over and over again as if to print them indelibly in her memory.
Fifteen. In a few years, custody wouldn't matter. Rufus could choose to see her.
But would he?
She got up, eventually, for a glass of water. In her living room, a shadow froze, and Isabel froze with it. Her eyes traced the figure standing near the sofa, neither Vivian nor a product of her late-night imagination. She could make out enough of his suit to name what he was.
"Don't," she said quickly, as if there were anything she could do to stop a Turk.
But, her presence had made him hesitate, hadn't it? He still hadn't moved.
Carefully, she flicked on the low light above the stove, unveiling his face from the gloom. He was young, Wutain features framed by long dark hair pulled neatly back from his face. He looked in no way startled, but watched her steadily.
If he was calculating something, he didn't have all of the input he wanted before making a move.
Isabel took a breath. "You know this isn't the smart move," she said. "Having his wife murdered the day after a very public announcement that she's filing for divorce?"
"I have my orders," he said. His voice was smooth, his tone neutral and disinterested, but nevertheless she had his attention, for now.
"And you're going to, what, frame me for it? You can plant as much evidence as you want, make me look like a crazy person on the news, but it's only going to fool the most die-hard bootlickers. And I don't think you can afford to be one of those."
"And why is that?"
"Because he's losing the war. I know him, he'll start throwing people under the bus to save face. A Wutain Turk who might've been passing intel to the enemy looks like a prime target to me."
She couldn't pin it down, but there was the slightest shift in his expression. "What would you have me tell my employer?" he wondered.
"Tell him you're protecting him," said Isabel. "I can't be the first person to realize how bad this would look. He's just angry. This is you giving him time to reconsider."
"You realize that's only a case for delaying it."
"Yes, but I'm not going to make it easy for him. You won't find her here again."
The Turk was gone in moments, so quickly that Isabel barely registered how he had left. She secured the latch on the window, wondering if Shinra really had recruited some sort of ninja.
On the sofa, Vivian remained fast asleep.
Isabel watched her for a moment, then roused her enough to guide her back into the bedroom. If the Turk really meant to kill her, it wouldn't make a bit of difference, but Isabel couldn't stomach the thought of leaving her alone and exposed in the living room after the attempt on her life. It was pure chance that Isabel had interrupted it.
Vivian grumbled at being pushed into bed, calling her by someone else's name, presumably one of the so-called friends who had abandoned her. Isabel climbed in after her and lay staring at the ceiling. Her body trembled, but the blankets didn't help.
One day after the announcement, and the Turks had come for them. Isabel knew what they were, she knew what they got up to, but when it had been her, Godric had only used them for information-gathering. She had expected the same with Vivian.
Apparently the publicity had made him a lot angrier.
She slept fitfully, finally giving up on it when Vivian roused. She rolled, stared at Isabel in confusion, and asked, "Didn't I go to sleep on the sofa?"
For a moment, Isabel considered leaving her in the dark. There wasn't any good reason for it; she just didn't want to have to tell her another piece of bad news. Isabel sighed, closing her eyes in concession to the weight of exhaustion, and explained what had happened.
"You can't come here again," she finished.
There was a short silence. Isabel refused to open her eyes to see Vivian's reaction.
"...it isn't as though they don't know where I live," Vivian said at last. "I know you think it makes it easier for them to frame you, but they could say you broke into my home. You've always had a motive."
"I used to," said Isabel.
"I'm touched."
"Maybe you should consider hiring a bodyguard. Or a real Wutain ninja."
"Do you think they work for money?"
Isabel shrugged, opening her eyes to look at the ceiling. "Who knows. If one could get close to you, they'd probably be more interested in assassinating Godric anyway."
Vivian seemed to consider that. "What if all he wanted was to scare us. Separate us."
Vivian was smarter than Isabel had given her credit for. "...I hadn't thought of that," she admitted.
"You should come stay with me."
Then again, maybe not. "You're joking right?" Isabel asked, turning her head to stare.
Vivian rolled her eyes. "I'm not staying in the same house with Godric. We made an agreement: he'll stay in his penthouse, and I'll keep to the house in Sector 2."
"...and Rufus?"
"...well, that's up to him. He can come home to whichever he likes."
Isabel frowned. "If I stay with you, then he can't. And it's more important that he can."
"I don't like leaving you on your own," said Vivian, and Isabel almost laughed. To get so much consideration from a woman she used to hate!
"It's as you said," she said. "If they really want either of us dead, it won't matter where we're staying."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Maybe it had been a stupid thing to hope that Vivian had any chance of winning against a man who could so easily have her killed. She opened her mouth, on the verge of counseling that Vivian back down, ask for less, but she shut it again. She didn't want to give Godric the satisfaction of cowing them into submission. Vivian wouldn't either.
"Then we'll just have to be very loud," Vivian decided, "so no matter what, it would always look retaliatory. Maybe it will even push him to settle sooner."
Or it might push him to murder in spite of anyone's better judgment. The important thing, Isabel decided, was that he would never threaten Rufus. Neglect him, yes, belittle him, try to keep him from his mothers. But he'd see them fight for him.
"You're right," she said. "He'll have to do better than this if he wants to shut us up."
Author's Note: I was hunting on the wiki to see if Mrs. Shinra had any kind official name and came across the note that Rufus's mother died when he was young, apparently referenced in On the Way to a Smile. However, the OG references President Shinra's wife as alive. I assume this is Squeenix either forgetting or retconning a minor detail, and normally I would just ignore the Compilation, but if both facts are true, it means that President Shinra remarried and that there have in fact been 2 Mrs. Shinras. And if there are two of them, they can hook up with each other, leading me to my rarest of pairs. I'm very proud.