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The gala was everything Amara hated about the high society: expensive laughter, champagne pretending to be conversation, and men in tailored suits who thought charm was currency.

She adjusted her silver dress, the one Adrian’s assistant had picked out “to match Mr. Cole’s tie.”

He stood beside her like a statue carved out of restraint, greeting investors with that perfectly controlled smile. Every woman in the room looked at him the way danger looks at a storm—half fear, half fascination.

Amara had learned to match his performance.
Smile. Nod. Pretend.

But when a reporter from The Times approached, microphone ready, Adrian’s hand found the small of her back—possessive, grounding.

“Mr. Cole, Mrs. Cole,” the reporter began, “you two are easily the most talked-about couple of the year. What’s the secret to balancing marriage and business?”

Amara felt Adrian’s hand tighten slightly, guiding her closer. His breath brushed her ear as he murmured, “Clause 5B.”

Her eyes widened just before his lips touched her temple.
The flash of cameras was instant, blinding.

She managed to keep her smile. “Mutual respect,” she said, her voice steady. “And very detailed contracts.”

Laughter rippled around them. Adrian’s fingers lingered a heartbeat too long before he withdrew.
Only she noticed the tremor that ran through her when he did.

As the night deepened, so did the game.
He played the charming husband; she played the untouchable wife. Every accidental touch became a headline waiting to happen.

At the balcony, away from the crowd, she finally breathed.
He followed.

“You handled that well,” he said, loosening his tie. “I almost believed us myself.”

She shot him a look. “Don’t. You’ll ruin the illusion.”

He stepped closer. “You really hate this, don’t you?”

“I hate pretending.”

“Funny,” he murmured. “You’re very good at it.”

The tension stretched, taut and electric.
She could feel the heat of him, smell the faint trace of his cologne—sharp, expensive, dangerous.

“Clause 5B,” he whispered again, eyes on her mouth. “You wouldn’t want to breach contract, would you?”

She should have walked away.
Instead, she said, “Try me.”

His hand slid to her jaw, and before logic could intervene, his mouth claimed hers.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t planned.
It was a collision—two storms meeting at the edge of control.

When he finally pulled back, both were breathing hard.
Neither spoke.
The city lights blinked behind them like witnesses.

Then Adrian said quietly, “Now that’s good PR.”

Amara’s laugh was sharp and broken. “You really are impossible.”

“Contractually,” he replied, straightening his tie, “you’re stuck with me.”

But as he walked away, she touched her lips and knew something had changed—something not written in any clause.

The morning sun sliced through the penthouse blinds, painting stripes across the marble floor. Amara’s heels clicked softly as she crossed the living room, coffee in one hand, folder in the other. The silence between her and Adrian was an agreement. They’d both decided that silence was safer than the truth.

She sat on the couch, flipping through the leather-bound contract again. Page after page of legal ice until her finger stopped on a clause she didn’t remember signing.

Clause 5B: Public Intimacy.

She read it twice.

“The parties shall engage in acts of physical affection when required for the maintenance of the marital image.”

Her jaw clenched. Acts of affection? Maintenance of image?
Heat rose to her cheeks, partly due to fury and partly due to something else she didn’t want to name.

“Any problem?” Adrian’s voice slid from behind her, smooth and unreadable. He had that way of appearing without sound, like he owned the air.

She held up the page. “You added this.”

He glanced at it briefly, then poured himself black coffee. “It’s standard in a contractual marriage of this scale.”

“Standard?” She echoed in disbelief. “There’s nothing standard about forcing someone to—”

“Pretend to care?” He met her eyes over the rim of his cup. “You agreed to play the perfect wife, Amara. Public affection is part of the illusion.”

Her pulse spiked. “You could have told me.”

“You didn’t read all the fine print.” He said it without malice, but the faintest smirk ghosted his lips. “This is a lesson for you in diligence.”

She closed the folder hard enough for the sound to echo. “You’re unbelievable.”

He leaned closer, bracing a hand on the back of the couch. “You knew what this was, Amara. Business and optics. Nothing more.”

“What if someone takes a photo of us?” She snapped. “It’ll look like you actually...”

He cut her off softly. “Cared?”

The word landed between them, heavy and dangerous. For a second, neither moved. His gaze dropped to her mouth, a flicker so brief she could’ve imagined it.

She stepped back. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to break another clause.”

He smiled—a small, ruthless curve. “Maybe you should check the next page. There might be one for that too.”

She turned away before he could see her tremble.

Later that night, she sat alone at her desk, the city glowing beneath the glass walls. She opened the contract again, tracing the signature she’d written under duress. The ink looked darker now, heavier and more binding.

Clause 5B wasn’t just legal language. It was a trap and a dare.

And she’d never been good at walking away from either.

The next evening, they were expected at the Hawthorne Foundation gala. The dress code was “conservative,” Adrian had instructed. Amara, naturally, ignored him.
She walked into the living room in a crimson gown that hugged her curves and left her shoulders bare, a slit climbing dangerously high up one thigh.
Adrian was fastening his cufflinks when he saw her. His hand stilled. His eyes darkened.
“That’s not conservative,” he said flatly.
Amara twirled once, the fabric flowing around her like liquid fire. “It’s strategic visibility. You wanted a wife who makes you look good, didn’t you?”
He stepped closer, voice low. “You’re daring me to look.”
She leaned in, her lips inches from his ear. “Maybe I am.”
The silence between them sparked, dangerous, electric. For the briefest second, she thought he would touch her—slide his hand along the slit of her dress, claim the dare she had just thrown at him.
But instead, he pulled back, adjusting his tie with a perfectly calm expression. “We’re late.”
Frustration and relief tangled in her chest. She followed him out the door, her heels clicking defiantly against the marble floor.
At the gala, cameras flashed the moment they arrived. Adrian’s hand rested lightly on her back, the contact polite, calculated—except for the way her skin burned under his touch.
They played their roles perfectly: the powerful CEO and his breathtaking wife. Smiles for the donors, nods for the press. No cracks in the façade.
But every time his fingers brushed hers, every time his gaze lingered a fraction too long, Amara felt the truth pressing between them.
It wasn’t just an act anymore.
And that terrified her.
When the ballroom lights dimmed for the auction, Adrian leaned close, his breath warm against her ear.
“You’re enjoying this,” he murmured.
Amara sipped her champagne, forcing her voice steady. “What makes you say that?”
“The way you look at me,” he said. “Like you can’t decide if you want to strangle me… or kiss me.”
Her pulse thundered, but she forced a smirk. “Maybe both.”
His lips curved. “Careful, Mrs. Cole. I might just let you.”
Before she could retort, applause filled the room as the auctioneer took the stage. Adrian leaned back, his expression smooth and unreadable once again.
But Amara knew what she had seen in his eyes.
And what scared her most was not his control… but how badly she wanted to break it.

The city glittered below, restless and alive, but inside the penthouse, silence ruled.

Amara sat in the sunroom, curled in an armchair with her laptop open, scrolling through Hayes PR reports. She told herself she was working. She told herself she didn’t notice the way Adrian moved across the apartment like a shadow—measured, deliberate, dangerous.

But she noticed.

He was at the bar now, pouring himself a glass of scotch. His tie was gone, his shirt sleeves rolled, his forearms tanned and strong.

Her eyes betrayed her before she could stop them, following the flex of his wrist as he lifted the glass.

“You’re staring,” he said without looking at her.

Amara’s heart skipped, but she rolled her eyes and said, “Please. You’re not nearly interesting enough to stare at.”

His lips curved—the closest thing to a smile she’d seen yet. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She shut her laptop, standing. “And you’re a man who thinks he’s the center of gravity. Newsflash, Adrian—my world doesn’t revolve around you. In fact,  you don’t even exist in it.”

He finally looked at her, his gaze sharp, unreadable. “Then why do you keep stepping closer?”

Her breath caught. She hadn’t realized she had. Her bare feet were only a few steps away from his.

“I like a challenge,” she said, lifting her chin.

He set the glass down, moving toward her slowly, deliberately. Each step was unhurried, controlled, like a predator approaching its prey. But his eyes—goodness! His eyes burned with something she couldn’t define.

“And am I a challenge?” He asked, stopping just in front of her.

Amara’s pulse raced, but she refused to flinch. “You’re an obstacle. There’s a difference.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was an equation he hadn’t solved yet. “Obstacles can be overcome.”

The air thickened, charged. She could feel the heat of his body and the faint scent of scotch. Her stomach flipped and her throat tightened.

For one wild moment, she thought he would kiss her.

And worse—she thought she might let him.

Then his phone buzzed on the bar, breaking the spell.

Adrian’s gaze lingered on her for one more heartbeat before he turned, picking it up. “Cole,” he said curtly into the receiver, as if nothing had happened.

Amara exhaled slowly, forcing herself back into her chair, her hands trembling as she held the laptop.

This wasn’t part of the deal. Attraction wasn’t in the contract.

But no matter how much she told herself it meant nothing, her heart refused to listen.

His gaze snapped back to her, sharp as a blade. “This is a contract, not a show. Don’t you dare make the mistake of thinking it’s anything else.”

Amara pushed off the console, closing the distance between them until she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. His scent—clean, masculine, expensive—wrapped around her, unsettling her far more than she’d admit.

“And yet,” she murmured, her lips curving, “you’re staring at me like you forgot that.”

His eyes darkened. For a heartbeat, something flickered there—heat, interest, danger. But then it was gone, shuttered behind his steel façade.

“Don’t play games, Amara.” His voice was low, almost a growl.

“Who says I’m playing?”

The tension between them thickened, invisible threads pulling tight. For the first time since the wedding, Amara’s pulse raced for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

Adrian took a step back, as if he’d just realized how close they’d been. “Dinner is at eight. Be ready.”

Amara laughed softly, shaking her head. “You really don’t know how to talk to people, do you?”

“I don’t need to,” he said.

“Then let me give you some free PR advice.” She brushed past him, her shoulder grazing his arm. “A husband who treats his wife like a business deal won’t convince anyone.”

He took one step and caught her wrist. His grip was firm but not cruel, his eyes burning into hers. “Careful, Mrs. Cole.”

Amara froze, every nerve in her body alive. For a dangerous second, she thought he might pull her closer, erase the space with a kiss neither of them had agreed to.

But instead, he released her, his voice like ice. “If you want Hayes PR to survive, you’ll play your part. Perfectly.”

Her heart thundered. She lifted her chin, forcing steel into her voice. “Then you’d better get used to me, Adrian. Because I don’t do perfect. I do unforgettable.”

She walked away, her gown sweeping the floor, leaving him staring after her.

In the silence of the penthouse, Adrian Cole allowed himself a single, dangerous thought:

He might have underestimated his new wife.

Amara had never seen a home so beautiful… or so hollow.

The penthouse stretched across two entire floors, walls of glass overlooking the city, polished marble floors reflecting the glitter of skyscrapers. Chandeliers sparkled above, paintings hung in perfect alignment. Everything screamed money, elegance, control, and power.

But, one thing that intrigued Amara was the lack of warmth in the house. There were no family photos. No flowers. Nothing to remotely show that his was more than a house, perhaps a home even.

Adrian Cole lived here, but he didn’t live here.

Amara set her clutch on a console table, her heels clicking as she explored. She wanted him to see that she wasn’t intimidated. Not by the penthouse, not by him.

“House rules,” Adrian said behind her, his voice calm but edged. “No visitors without clearance. No press interviews without my approval. No personal entanglements that could compromise this arrangement.”

Amara turned, her lips curving into a slow smile. “You make marriage sound like a hostile takeover.”

His eyes glinted, but his expression didn’t change. “It is.”

She let out a soft laugh. “You don’t even pretend, do you?”

“Pretending isn’t worth it,” he answered with a smirk.

Their eyes locked across the room. His stood with military precision, broad shoulders encased in his suit. She leaned against the console, her gown hugging every curve. The silence stretched, charged, until she broke it with a toss of her hair.

“So tell me, Mr. Cole,” she drawled, “is this how you treat all your wives?”

He stilled. “I’ve only had one.”

“Oh?” Her brows rose. “And where is she now?”

The air seemed to shift. His jaw tightened, his gaze briefly flicking toward the window. “Not relevant.”

Bingo. Amara filed that reaction away. This man wasn’t untouchable—he had ghosts.

“Well,” she said lightly, “I hope I last longer.”

His gaze flicked to hers—cold, assessing, dangerous. For one wild second, her pulse skipped. Then he looked away, as if she were merely another acquisition.

“The car is waiting,” he said.

They walked side by side through the grand lobby of the Cole Tower, cameras flashing as employees and press craned for a glimpse of the new Mrs. Cole. Adrian didn’t offer his arm. Amara didn’t expect him to.

The black limousine door closed behind them with a hushed thud.

Inside, Adrian pulled out a tablet, scrolling through contracts as if he hadn’t just married her. Amara turned to the window, her reflection staring back—poised, perfect, untouchable. Exactly the image she had been trained to project.

But deep down, her chest ached with the truth.

This was survival. Nothing more.

When they arrived at his penthouse, Adrian finally spoke again.

“You’ll take the main bedroom.”

Amara turned, arching a brow. “And you?”

“The guest suite. Until we determine boundaries.”

Her lips curved in a faint, mocking smile. “Afraid to share a bed with your wife?”

His expression didn’t change, but his voice lowered. “Just honoring boundaries.”

The elevator chimed, opening into a pristine expanse of glass and marble. The penthouse gleamed with expensive emptiness. No warmth, no life. Just like the man who owned it.

Amara slipped off her heels, her feet silent against the polished floor. She looked back at him, her diamond earrings catching the city lights.

“Fine,” she murmured. “If you won’t take the lead… I will.”

The ink glistened black against the ivory paper, elegant and final.

Amara Hayes held the pen tighter than necessary, her knuckles pale, her pulse hammering. The gold band on her left hand felt foreign, too heavy for something she hadn’t wanted.

Across the mahogany table sat Adrian Cole—the man the press called The King of Steel. Billionaire industrialist. Ruthless negotiator. A man who had smiled exactly once in the three weeks she had known him—and it hadn’t been at her.

“Clause Fifteen,” Adrian said evenly, flipping to the final page. His voice carried the sharpness of command, not conversation. “No scandal. No infidelity. Joint appearances at all major corporate functions. You abandon your maiden name and be known by mine.”

His jaw was square, his expression carved from ice. Amara wondered if his sculpted cheekbones had ever softened for anyone, or if they were just another weapon of intimidation.

“And,” he added, eyes locking on hers, “no exit until the two-year term is complete. Unless mutually agreed.”

Amara forced her lips into a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing your empire.”

A flicker—just a flicker—crossed his gaze. Annoyance? Amusement? She couldn’t tell. Adrian Cole was unreadable, the kind of man who could crush companies with a sentence and never blink.

She signed.

The pen scraped faintly, the sound louder than her heartbeat.

Their wedding had taken place an hour ago, a quiet ceremony sealed with a contract instead of vows. No kiss. No warmth. Just the cold efficiency of two people binding themselves for reasons no one else could see.

Amara slid the signed page back across the table. Her manicured nails didn’t tremble, though her insides burned with defiance. She had agreed to this marriage to save Hayes PR, the company her late father had built and her reckless brother had nearly destroyed. Adrian’s money had bailed them out. His name would shield them from scandal.

And in return, she belonged to him.

At least on paper.

“Congratulations,” Adrian said flatly, slipping the contracts into a leather folder. “You are now Mrs. Cole.”

Amara stood, smoothing her ivory silk gown, her smile sharp. “Don’t sound too thrilled. People might think you’re human after all.”

The ink glistened black against the ivory paper, elegant and final.

Amara Hayes held the pen tighter than necessary, her knuckles pale, her pulse hammering. The gold band on her left hand felt foreign, too heavy for something she hadn’t wanted.

Across the mahogany table sat Adrian Cole—the man the press called The King of Steel. Billionaire industrialist. Ruthless negotiator. A man who had smiled exactly once in the three weeks she had known him—and it hadn’t been at her.

“Clause Fifteen,” Adrian said evenly, flipping to the final page. His voice carried the sharpness of command, not conversation. “No scandal. No infidelity. Joint appearances at all major corporate functions. You abandon your maiden name and be known by mine.”

His jaw was square, his expression carved from ice. Amara wondered if his sculpted cheekbones had ever softened for anyone, or if they were just another weapon of intimidation.

“And,” he added, eyes locking on hers, “no exit until the two-year term is complete. Unless mutually agreed.”

Amara forced her lips into a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing your empire.”

A flicker—just a flicker—crossed his gaze. Annoyance? Amusement? She couldn’t tell. Adrian Cole was unreadable, the kind of man who could crush companies with a sentence and never blink.

She signed.

The pen scraped faintly, the sound louder than her heartbeat.

Their wedding had taken place an hour ago, a quiet ceremony sealed with a contract instead of vows. No kiss. No warmth. Just the cold efficiency of two people binding themselves for reasons no one else could see.

Amara slid the signed page back across the table. Her manicured nails didn’t tremble, though her insides burned with defiance. She had agreed to this marriage to save Hayes PR, the company her late father had built and her reckless brother had nearly destroyed. Adrian’s money had bailed them out. His name would shield them from scandal.

And in return, she belonged to him.

At least on paper.

“Congratulations,” Adrian said flatly, slipping the contracts into a leather folder. “You are now Mrs. Cole.”

Amara stood, smoothing her ivory silk gown, her smile sharp. “Don’t sound too thrilled. People might think you’re human after all.”

He still hadn't wrapped his mind around why Stacy had thought of starting her revenge at this exact time when things were so smooth for him.

But that's the thing about vengeance, it strikes you when you least expect it. To distract himself, he moved to power on the TV and an idea struck him when he saw Max talking to the press and assuring them that his house wouldn’t be auctioned.

‘At least I can first start by solving Ivan’s problem,’ he thought with satisfaction. “ As for me, I’ll deal with her later,”

 Xxx

The water freely flowed down the stream and the trees swayed, bringing with them a sweet breeze. A few metres from the stream, Amy sat with a copy of Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews.

She was enjoying the cool and serene environment and was very engrossed in reading how Cathy and Chris would work through their plans after finding out that their grandfather had passed away and their mother Corrine kept the information to herself.

 She didn’t realize Steph had slowly walked up to her.

“Hey,” Steph said smiling as she sat down next to Amy, who responded with a smile and closed her book. For a while, the two friends sat in silence, looking at the stream below them and once in a while stealing glances at each other.

“I just wanted to let down the steam so I came here,” Steph said in a low voice and Amy looked at her with understanding and said, “yeah, me too.”

 “I just feel so helpless. Mom and dad have their hands tied.  Mom says most of their friends have turned their back against them. Dad is helpless but he won’t admit it,” Steph said sadly and Amy turned to look away as if jerked by something hot.

“I’m sorry Steph…” Amy managed to say in a low voice, still avoiding her friend’s eyes. Steph was so engrossed in her problem and the nature below her that she didn’t even notice how broken her friend seemed.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help. My parents …” Amy said, turning to look at Steph with teary eyes. Steph swiftly moved to embrace her friend and for what seemed like a century, the two sat in that position, with Amy battling whether or not to truly tell Steph why her parents had refused to help.

“Since you went home you’ve been withdrawn. Are your parents okay? Your sister Mabel? You’re just not bubbly like you always are. Is there any way I can help?”

Amy slowly shook her head and shut her eyes, remembering that her last visit home hadn’t gone well. One photo in their family album had changed her life upside down in ways she could never imagine and unbeknownst to Steph, she was in the mix.

“I just feel bad that we can’t help,” Amy said and though not fully buying her excuse, Steph nodded in understanding. She didn’t want to push Amy since she knew her friend wasn’t one to open up easily.

“Just know that am always here,” Steph reassured her.

"You're losing it Raquel," Noah said after turning to look at his wife who was every inch different from the loving, compassionate and understanding woman she was.

He could tell that Stacy's and Vera's issue were getting to Raquel and he felt helpless not being able to protect his family from the constant media meddling.

He was the one who had chosen the limelight not his wife and son.

" How can I not? Do you know how hard it is for me to walk around the city? Once the paparazzi spot me, it's game over for me.  I get trolled yet I'm not even on the news so I don't understand how you're okay with all of these,"

"I'm not okay with what she is doing…"

" I know …so you asked your guards to take her to your private space and do you know what she did? Recorded every damn thing you said, don't ask me how." Raquel thundered and Noah felt difficulties in breathing. He had suspected that Stacy would do just that so he had ordered that she leaves her phone and any other recording equipment outside yet she still managed to fool him.

' She's hell-bent on destroying me,' he inwardly thought as he felt his emotions splash all over the place.

"W…what!" He managed to ask as he looked around the room which suddenly seemed to be rotating. He managed to get to an empty chair from where he felt as though the air in his lungs was being squeezed out and he wanted anything to grasp onto and get back to his normal state.

"My friends no longer come here because they fear being on the news next. Listen, Noah, you have to stop that lady or I will. I have had enough." Raquel threatened as she got up and left Noah scratching through his mind for a permanent solution.

He looked around the room and saw how empty it was. He thought of how bad it would look if both Ivan and Raquel left him for an act he had committed years ago, before he even thought of starting a family.

The luxurious office was roughly 20,000 square foot space. It had echoes of earthen designs, a high back leather chair, corner desk with metal legs, shelves full of books, a TV set, a glass table, a fridge and what seemed like a bar. 

On a soft chair on the corner desk sat Noah, who was busy scrolling through her phone and looking in disgust at Stacy’s podcast.  He heard the door knob open and he shifted uncomfortably on his chair as Stacy walked in.

“Why did you call me here?” Stacy asked as she looked around the luxurious office in admiration. She walked to an empty chair and looked intently at Noah, expecting an answer from him. She noticed that he hadn’t changed much since they last met.

“We need to talk; don’t you think so?” Noah asked in an irritated voice and Stacy shifted uncomfortably on her chair.

“About what?” She asked as she removed a strand of hair that had partially covered her face. “Is this how you talk to your guests?” She continued in irritation and Noah shrugged as he asked what she meant.

“We haven’t even talked yet,” he answered as he walked towards the bar and asked Stacy if she needed anything.

“I’ll pass. God knows you might even poison me,” Stacy answered and Noah chuckled softly as he placed a bottle of wine on the glass table.

“You’re right about that, but I’m not so careless. I mean, if something happens to you obviously all fingers will be pointed at me. You know how good you’ve made me look, right?” Noah said sarcastically as he smirked.

“Why did you call me here?” Stacy asked as she raised her head high in confidence.

“As I said before, to talk. How much do you want?” Noah asked as he sipped his drink.

“What?” Stacy asked in confusion and Noah repeated his sentence as he looked at Stacy in hostility.

“You think I want your money? How dare you!” Stacy asked in irritation as she spit.

“I know you want it. Why else would you decide to go against me? You’re foolishly trying to open the buried skeletons and you know it won’t end well for both of us. You should know better than anyone that teaming up with Vera is a stupid move. Why are you taking advantage of her ignorance?” Noah asked and Stacy looked at the dumb ass man before her and scoffed angrily.

“Are you going to talk about morals now? You? A man with a full grown son who doesn’t want to take responsibility for his baby? No, I’ll help Vera until Ivan or whatever your son’s name is takes responsibility for his action,” Stacy said with a clenched jaw and bared teeth.

“That baby isn’t my grandson,”

Chloe sadly looked at her mother who was lying on the floor and felt pity and compassion for her wash all over her.

“Beat me if you want but please don’t harm her. She is all I have,” Chloe pleaded and Martin got down to her level and tightly held her on the neck and scratched her using his long nails.

“No dear. You don’t deserve that,” Martin said in a sadistic voice as he slowly let go and rushed out of the room after throwing one last look of disgust at Lisa.

“Who is this man? Why does he keep coming here? Why is he treating you like a piece of s*it?” Chloe asked in anger as she got up and rushed to Lisa.

“Why did he say he gives us everything and that you don’t want him to see me? Is he my father? Did you lie about my father? Didn’t you say he is dead?” Chloe asked in a rush as she helped Lisa sit up. Lisa’s whole body ached and Chloe rushed to get a piece of cloth and ice to soothe Lisa’s bruises.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine,” Lisa answered as she shut her eyes and wreathed in pain.

 ‘I’m so tired of this life! I don’t like being at home, I feel so stuck,’ Chloe said as she applied makeup to cover the bruise on her neck. She felt a tang of guilt realizing that she secretly nursed a desire to run away from home and leave her mother alone.

She heard footsteps approaching and hurriedly got up from her dressing table.

“Chloe! Breakfast is ready. Come down,” Lisa said in a very clear voice and Chloe softly scoffed.

“I’m coming mum,” she said as she closed her bedroom door and walked down the stairs.

“I’m sorry am such a mess,” Steph said in a breaking voice as she slowly sat up to tightly hug Amy.

“I know I can’t do much but still…Our house is being auctioned. I think we have up to tomorrow or the day after to try and save it and honestly, there is no miracle for us,” Steph said in a breaking voice and Amy waited for her to let it all out.

‘It doesn’t make sense though. Why did dad stop paying the mortgage?  When did he even stop paying? We have hit a dead end. If the house is sold, where will they all stay?” Steph asked between hiccups.

“That means a lot of money is needed. I talked to my parents but they can’t help,” Amy said in a low voice and Steph slowly let go of the embrace and looked at her friend.

“Thank you,” she noted sadly as they raked their minds for another solution.

Xxx

The sun penetrated through the curtains in the room and the alarm by Chloe’s bed rung. She stretched her hands to reach the phone and dismiss it and shut her eyes for a while but moments later, the alarm rung again.

‘S*it!’ she cursed as she slowly stretched before getting down from the bed. Rubbing her eyes, she slowly walked to the bathroom for a quick shower.  Her mother Lisa was in the kitchen preparing breakfast and Chloe could smell the aroma from up in her room.

She quickly took a bath and dressed and for a while, she stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself in admiration and hatred.

She took a makeup brush and started applying foundation but when she got to her neck, she stopped for a while and tilted her head just a little to look at the bruise she had.

She felt tears forming in her glands and rage boiling and rising within her.  She slowly touched the bruise and though it was still fresh and painful, she derived some weird satisfaction from the pain.

One evening, she had gotten home tired and disoriented and more than anything, she wanted to cry her heart out and sleep as sound as a baby.

“Stop!” She remembered pleading while kneeling down. Both of her hands were in a sign of prayer on her chest and hot tears were freely rolling down her chubby cheeks.

“Why? I’m doing everything I can for you. You have everything you need and your stupid mother won’t let me see you. Do you think I deserve that?” The man whom Chloe only knew as Martin said in a loud thunderous voice that sent shivers all over Chloe’s body.

Martin took large steps towards Chloe and the floor he was walking on shook in vibration.   He had a large body and Chloe had often found herself wondering if he wrestled for a living or lived in a gym.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” Stacy Lund, the journalist said in a low and compassionate voice as she softly patted Vera on the back.

 Vera sniffled.

Stacy was a middle aged woman with a slender physique. She had blonde hair, tank skin and grey eyes.

The two were inside Stacy’s office and though Stacy was a friend of Kim Morgan, Vera’s mum, she was yet to know why Vera had insisted on seeing her.

“I want you to do an interview of me,” Vera managed to say and Stacy looked at her sharply before asking what exactly she meant.

“An interview! It should be live please,” Vera insisted and Stacy inhaled deeply and looked around her small soundproof office and asked, “Why do you want an interview? You know…”

“It’s about a celebrity. Come on Stacy, don’t act so innocent. I know you thrive on celebrity news. You like controversy and will always post a story even if it isn’t true because of the high readership and clicks so what’s the exception right now?” Vera asked looking intently at Stacy, who sighed and said, “because you’re different.  I know you personally and I know the backlash you might receive from this story so if it isn’t so damn important, we can…”

“It’s about the Jacksons. I want to get at them for messing with me,” Vera said and Stacy gasped in shock. Slowly, the expression on her face changed to joy as she had a broad wide smile.

“Call the cameraman. I will deal with the repercussions!” Vera said in a sharp authoritative voice that was also dismissive of any other suggestions Stacy wanted to offer, but Stacy didn’t have any more objections: she had a personal vendetta to settle.

A few minutes later, they were live, with about 10,000 people streaming from Stacy’s social media accounts.  

Xxx

Amy hurriedly rushed out of her car to hers and Amy’s house. The house had a large living room area with blue and white tiles and cream walls. The other room was the bedroom and there was a bathroom and toilet.

The door partly locked and the room was in a mess. Almost everything was in the wrong place, which was surprising given Steph was always so orderly.

‘Hell! What happened? Steph!’ Amy called out as she rushed to the bedroom. Steph was on the bed, lying with her face down. Slowly Amy walked to her and patted her slowly as she softly called her name.

Slowly, Steph lifted up her head. Her eyes looked swollen and red from crying.

“Who the hell are you?” Chloe asked in a loud voice and the lady walked towards her, her face down all the while. “Do you have the guts to show your ugly face to us?” Chloe shouted and the lady scoffed.

“I’m not looking for you so why can’t you stop barking?” The lady asked as she slowly removed her cap.

“She’s so pretty,” some male students said and the lady smirked as she winked at Chloe and gave her a thumbs up.

 She looked around the dining hall, her head held up in confidence and shouted, “Where is he? Where the hell is Ivan?”

“Hold on! Who the hell are you? Did you not hear my question?” Chloe asked, feeling angry and embarrassed that she had started losing the respect she commanded from the students.

“S*it! You’re so nagging. By the way, am not one of the students in this filthy campus so you can’t tell me anything,”

There was a loud uproar from the students and Chloe found herself looking at her minions Janely and Rina for help.

“I’ll tell you my name if it will make you sleep well tonight. I’m Vera Morgan,” Vera said and the other students broke into a loud fit of laughter.

“Savage,” some shouted.

“Why are you looking for Ivan?” Chloe managed to ask and Vera answered by simply holding her stomach and looking at it adorably, an act that brought more confusion than answers.

Chloe’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth flew open and colour drained from her face making her look pale all of a sudden.

‘It can’t be. I got the wrong message from her act. God please, don’t let it be true,’ she kept thinking and her head started throbbing, making the pain almost unbearable.

“What the hell?” Chloe shouted, her eyes solely on Vera’s flat tummy. “What did you say?  Did I get you right?” She slowly asked.

“I don’t have to tell you my s*it! Do you know where he is? I have an important message for him,” Vera added in a polite and sweet voice and Chloe slowly shook her head.

“Beats me.  He hasn’t been in school since forever. He isn’t answering my calls yet I’m his girlfriend. Who does that?” Chloe asked in a dejected voice. She had felt the need to kind of mark territories by letting Vera know Ivan was hers.

“Okay,” Vera said and turned to walk away without saying another word. Chloe looked at her receding figure and shook her head in disbelief.

‘What the hell was that?’ She thought angrily.

“Excuse me sir. I…I think there’s a …mistake here. Ivan and …” Steph said in a stammer.

“No miss Lee. The script is good. We want you guys to acquaint yourselves with other members. We need to make new chemistries while acting, right?” Luke answered arrogantly and turned his back on Steph.

She rolled her eyes before breathing in and out while shutting her eyes. It suddenly felt like her heart had stopped beating.

“I don’t know why they had to make me deal with you,” Ivan muttered silently when he got near Steph who scoffed in disgust.

“Beats me too. If we kill each other, our blood will be on his hands,” Steph said in disgust and Ivan turned to look at her sharply, a feigned look of shock on his face.

“Don’t tell me you hate me that much,” he said, one hand on his chest in mocked pain.

“No Ivan. Let’s not mince words here. You and I can’t stand each other, there are no two ways about it. You know am not Chloe or Camila who will worship the ground you step on,”

“Are you jealous?” Ivan asked in a mocking tone.

“Why should I be?” Steph reiterated in a challenging voice as they both stared at each other in spite.

 “Let’s get to it,” Luke ordered and everyone’s attention turned to him. 

The opening scene was for Ivan and Steph who wanted to be anywhere else other than the drama club room. She wasn’t sure she could remember her lines and she opened her mouth to say so but Luke ignored her.

“Lights, camera, action,” Luke shouted. Both Steph and Ivan were far from relaxing themselves into their characters.  Sensing the hesitation from both parties, Luke asked the two to acquaint themselves with each other first as they shot a different scene.

Xxx

Loud footsteps approaching.  A strong scent of perfume that could be smelt from the main gate of the campus.

Students chatter slowly dying down and almost everyone turning to the entrance of the dining hall to look for themselves who it was.

Chloe waited with bated breath, to see who had commanded attention like only she did and she was murmuring a small prayer.

The lady walked into the dining hall, dressed in a white tank top and floral pants with 6-inch-high heels.  Her nails were well manicured, her hair was held in a bun and she wore a black cap and was looking down, making it hard for the students, who had stopped eating to look at her, recognize her.

PRESENT

The room was filled to the brim. All the drama club members were in their costumes. Some were going through their scripts while others were in small groups gossiping about the latest campus news. Stephanie Lee (Steph) could feel a few daggers being thrown at her and she was just grateful Ivan hadn’t showed up for rehearsals.

‘Do they know about our house?’ She wondered. ‘No. It can’t be. Most of them don’t read serious papers, they are just after gossip,’ she reasoned.

She had seen the news about her house on Atlanta Latest and had hurriedly called her father to find out if the news is true.

“No dear, that’s just a mistake. Your home is safe,” Max told her in an assuring voice before disconnecting the call without even asking her how she was faring on. That made her suspicious so she had called Victoria to find out her version of things but she wasn’t available on call.

‘You can skip rehearsals and rush home. Amy won’t mind dropping you,’ she thought as she packed her things into her bag. Amy Thompson was her best friend.  She felt her phone chime and saw it was a new message notification from her mom.

She trembled slightly but before she could unlock the text, her attention was shifted to the main entrance of the room.

“I’m sorry am late guys,” Luke Conner, the drama teacher said as he hurriedly walked into the room. Behind him was Ivan and Kevin and despite herself, Steph scoffed. She had never understood why Ivan was in the drama club because he obviously didn’t have the talent.

 ‘Just because his father is an actor doesn’t make him an actor,’ Steph thought. She loathed Ivan for always thinking so highly of himself and for how he treated girls without respect.

Hell, the man walked as if  the whole world revolved around him.

“After much thought and deliberation, I have decided that we should change some of the characters in the script we are using,” Luke said in a determined voice and the students looked at each other in confusion.

“Why? We are a few pages into the scripts and are comfortable with our current roles,” Madge Rudd asked and most of the students nodded in agreement.

“Inasmuch as I want to answer your question, I’m not compelled to. I make the decisions here,” Luke said in an arrogant voice and the students looked at him in shock. He was never rude: he was the sweetest lecturer the students had and his answer made them all go silent, with the assumption that he had a bad day.

Wordlessly, he issued out the new script printouts and Steph almost fainted when she saw she had an act with Ivan.

Until that point, Raquel had been too shocked to move but the mere thought that there was a possibility that Vera was carrying her grandchild rejuvenated her.

She didn’t know Vera well but she knew her enough to dislike her so she hurriedly stood up and rushed towards the two to see for herself the results on the test kit.

The emotions on Ivan’s face ranged from confusion to anger to fear and hatred.  He tightly folded his fists, he had a pinched face and his mouth was twisted in a sneer. His eyes were wide and he was trembling slightly.

“This …might be a false alarm,” Raquel said dismissively.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Vera had said angrily, more to Raquel than to Ivan who hadn’t uttered a single word.

“Even if you’re really pregnant, the child can’t be mine. We were together for only one night and we used protection,” Ivan managed to say after clearing his voice.

“If the test kit is faulty, what makes you think the preventive measure we took is 100% effective?” Vera posed and for the first time, Ivan and Raquel shared looks of confusion and fear.

It was just a one-night thing and Ivan could swear on his life that he had been as careful as he could have possibly been. He hadn’t seen Vera after that but she had one day turned up at his doorstep with news that had turned Ivan’s world upside down.

“Ivan! There is someone here to see you,” Raquel called him from his room.     As Ivan half walked half ran down the stairs, he knew it wasn’t Kevin but not even in his wildest imaginations did he think it was Vera.

He found her seated on the chair opposite Raquel’s, scrolling through her phone and giggling softly. Raquel threw daggers at her and shook her head in disapproval and Ivan knew the next thing would be a talk about how he needed to be careful about the girls he hung out with.

He wished his mom would give up on her talks because she had done it for as long as he could remember yet he hadn’t changed even one bit.

“Hello darling,” Vera said warmly as she stood up to hug Ivan. She had a tank top on and a short skirt that exposed more than it hid.

“Why are you here?” Ivan asked in a harsh tone as he moved towards one of the windows to check if anyone else was waiting outside.  None of his many girls had ever set foot in his house and he didn’t understand the audacity Vera had.

Convinced that no one was with Vera, Ivan moved so close to her and within earshot said, “it was just a one-time thing and that doesn’t give you the right to come over here,”

“Sshh,” Vera said, a pleased look on her face and a sly smile on her lips. “That’s not the way to talk to me when I have such good news for you,” she added, looking mischievously at Raquel, whose interest had been intrigued.

Her heart was pumping fast and the scene before her felt all too familiar: the excitement she had and the anxiety Noah had at the abrupt request for a meetup.

“I’m pregnant,” Vera said happily as she jumped up and down with joy.  Her eyes flashed wide and bright and she had a broad grin. Colour drained from Raquel’s face and her eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

‘It can’t be,’ she thought and wanted to say so but no word came from her mouth.

Ivan looked on in silence, as if he hadn’t heard anything and the joy on Vera’s face disappeared as soon as it had appeared. In its place was confusion.

“Will…you not say anything? I’m pregnant with your child Ivan. I just got tested and immediately rushed to share the news with you,” Vera explained in a low voice as she took a step back and removed a wrapped test kit from her purse.

Ivan Jackson was Monich University’s most popular guy.  The life of every party. The heartthrob of almost every woman in campus.   Scratch that, he was wanted by women across all ages. The power he had over girls had gotten into his head and he was considered a player but still, girls fought for him. He had a well-built body that the girls drooled over. His hazel eyes could make anyone get lost in them. He had neatly combed black hair that partly covered his handsome face.

Ivan lay facing the ceiling in his room, a thousand unpleasant things running through his mind. He could hear his parents Raquel and Noah talking and arguing him in hushed tones in the living room.

He sighed in frustration as he ran his hands over his hair and clicked his tongue.

‘Shit! Kevin was right,’ he reasoned as he wondered why he had gotten himself involved with Vera Morgan. She was beautiful with blue green eyes and curves in all the right places.  They had only gotten involved once and the next thing she knew was that Vera was pregnant.

Kevin Moore was Ivan’s best friend. He had green eyes, a slim body and blond hair. He was also good looking but unlike his friend, his looks hadn’t gotten to his head.

Flashback

Ivan had met Vera during one of his basketball games. She was on the front row and had her eyes fixed on him. Yes, he noticed her anytime he looked at her direction. Whenever their eyes met, she smiled warmly and he retaliated.

“A new one tonight?” Kevin had asked him after the game and Ivan didn’t bother to feign ignorance at Kevin’s statement. Kevin definitely must have known he was kind of destructed during the game.

“I have a bad feeling about her,” Kevin said and Ivan broke into a soft chuckle and he gasped down the contents in his water bottle.

“I know,” Ivan said knowingly. “When will you won’t stop with those tags?”

“What tags?” Kevin had asked in shock and Ivan wiped out the sweat trickling down his face using the back of his hands and said, “blue for those you accept and red for those you do not. It’s all cool except you always have the colour red for virtually everyone,”

 Kevin looked at him and inhaled deeply then said, “most often I’m always right and you always believe me except when it comes to girls,”

“Don’t worry, I will be careful,” Ivan had answered with a smirk before walking majestically towards Vera who seemed to have been waiting for him.

“Did you even think about the kids? Travis, especially?” Victoria asked between hiccups as she forced herself to get out of bed and rushed to the guest room, leaving Max with his thoughts. 

It didn’t make sense that Victoria knew what he had done. No one knew about it except him and Adam. Was there a possibility that Adam had spoken to Victoria? How was that even possible when Adam and Victoria didn’t know each other, or did they? Max wondered.

Angry and very confused, he decided to call Adam but the call got disconnected every time. He was typing an angry message when Adam called back.

“What the hell did you do? My wife knows what I did,” Max screamed at the top of his voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Adam defended himself in a loud and clear voice as he shrugged his shoulders.

“What do you mean by that? You’re the only one I did this business with and somehow, my wife knows about it when I haven’t mentioned anything,” Max said in exasperation.

“I’m sorry Max. I can’t wait anymore. Your entire property is listed for auctioning,” Adam said in the most casual voice and the phone fell with a loud thud out of Max’s hands.  He could swear that the whole wide world had stopped moving.

He almost lost his mind when he heard her speak moments later, at fast in a low voice and then louder in a broken voice that showed that she had been sobbing.

“When were you ever going to tell me?” Victoria asked as she sat on the bed as she wiped away her tears using the back of her palms.

There was silence for a while before either of them spoke.

“Uh…mm…What are you talking about dear?” Max asked in a calm voice. His heart was however beating so fast and his thoughts were so jumbled up that he couldn’t even think clearly.

“Today’s phone call is the fourth one this week. Goodness knows how many more will be coming in,” Victoria said in a harsh challenging voice and in shame, Max looked down as he ran his hands over his head.

“It’s not what you think,” he defended himself lamely and Victoria chucked nervously and asked what he thought she thought.

“That…I’m cheating on you,” Max said uncomfortably and Victoria slowly shook her head to deny those allegations.  Max felt his heartbeat skip a beat.  

‘Does she know the truth? How can she?’ He wondered.

“We’re losing this place, right?” Victoria cut to the chase before breaking down into a loud cry that could wake the dead. She looked around the room with a lot of mixed feelings.

The house had been her home for as long as she could remember.  The place she had all the happy and sad memories. It was where her children had their firsts yet if a miracle didn’t happen, it would all go away like the wind.

“What did you do? After how hard we have worked to get all these, you didn’t even think for a second before trying to destroy our lives. What kind of a father are you?” Victoria asked in anger before realizing that she had touched on a sore topic.

It had been a slip of a tongue and a very grave mistake for her given Max could be awarded a trophy for being the best father in the whole wide world.

Max felt his head throb in pain. He felt the whole room zoning in on him and the air in his lungs being squeezed out. He wanted to grasp for air and that meant moving out of the bedroom but he couldn’t even lift a finger let alone his feet.

He tried opening his mouth to speak but no words came out.   He cleared his throat and tried talking again but his brain had gone blank and his throat dry so not a single word came out.

Max Lee woke up with a startle when he heard the phone beside him vibrating. He quickly stretched his hands to silence it and turned to look at his wife Victoria who was deep asleep. Slowly and with a lot of caution, he got up from bed, the ringing phone on his hands and walked out of the room after giving Victoria a forehead kiss.

 He opened the tap in the washroom and received the call, his voice trembling and his entire body shaking as if he was a cat who had just had cold water poured on its body.

“Maxwell Lee!” The   hoarse male voice on the other end said in a mocking tone and Max listened on with disgust.  He had thought of disconnecting or ignoring the call but he knew it would keep ringing and that posed a great danger to them, especially if Victoria heard the phone ring.

“Thank heavens you finally received my call.  I was just about to give out the first strike against your family,” the man, identified as Adam Patten, said in a condescending voice.

“You can’t keep calling me without stop like this. It will be a matter of time before my wife starts asking questions and more than anything, I don’t want her to be suspicious,” Max said in anger.

“If you don’t want me to call then do the necessary! I must admit that I also don’t enjoy calling you this much,” Adam responded in an angrier voice and Max shut his eyes tightly, breathed in and out severally then said, “Things… things are still not well. I need more time please. I don’t have the money; I’m struggling to stay afloat at the moment…”

Adam broke into a loud fit of laughter, not caring an ounce that it was way past midnight.

“That’s what you said the last time I called and the one before that. That’s what you have been saying all the time and am so dead tired of your excuses.  You’re joking with the wrong person and trust me when I say that I will strike you where it hurts the most: your daughter Steph,” Adam said and Max struggled to swallow a ball of saliva.

“You…” Max started but Adam interrupted him by saying, “Two days at most, or I will forget the relationship that ever existed between us,”

The call was disconnected and for a while, Max couldn’t move.  He looked at himself on the mirror on the wall and all he felt was loathe for himself.  He should have been his family’s custodian yet he was now the one putting them in danger because of his ambitions. Steph and her brother Travis had been against Max joining politics but he had ignored them. Would they ever forgive him if anything happened to any of them?

 He lost track of how long he stayed in the washroom and when he walked back to his bedroom, he breathed out a sigh of relief seeing that Victoria was still sleeping.