I WILL TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I GAVE YOU

Slowly I leaned in, my lips brushing against his bare chest, leaving little bite marks. Then, I pulled back. I looked into his eyes which were now clouded with desire. Good, he was clearly distracted now. Seizing the moment, I secretly picked up my dress and files.

I slipped back into my dress, carefully tucking the files inside, smoothing out the wrinkles to hide the files properly. My eyes drifted to Steven, he stood before the mirror, looking magnificent as usual. He was a rare man, flawless in every way, except one. He just wasn't my man.

Standing before him I realized how incompatible we were. I was short, curvy, and a little chubby. Perhaps that's why he hadn't chosen me. I wasn't a model perfect like Nicole who had blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, slender figure, gorgeous long legs. I was a wallflower in her presence. The comparison was almost too much to bear.

"I was never the one you wanted," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "What nonsense are you talking about?" Steven snapped, his expression darkening.

"I was never the one you could be proud of in public."

"Just leave, Alexa," Steven urged, his voice filled with urgency. "We will discuss this later. Nicole is back in the country, and she doesn't know about us." The mention of her name was like a slap in the face, a harsh reminder of my place in his life, a secret, a mistress, a lie.

I laughed. "I think she deserves to know, Steven. She deserves to know who has been raising her children, putting in the late nights and early mornings to make this company a success, while she was enjoying the world, pursuing her modeling career.” My voice rose, fueled by a mix of anger and hurt. "I want out, Steven. And I am not leaving empty-handed. Remember our agreement when we started this company branch? I own fifteen percent of the shares, don't I?"

"What are you insinuating, Alexa?" Steven's voice was filled with warning, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer to me.

"I want a clear picture of what I own, Steven," I said, my voice firm. "I have never withdrawn any of my profits from the company. I want to know exactly what my shares are worth."

“After,” he said, moving closer.

"Have your lawyer send me the documents. Have a pleasant weekend, Steven."

Without another word, I slipped past him, my design manuscripts safely hidden in my dress. I was just a high school student when I first met Steven. How naive I was back then, turning down a fully paid college scholarship and choosing instead to stay to manage Steven's business while he went abroad to further his studies.

"Good evening, Manager Jones," the familiar greeting echoed through the hallway. I overheard snippets of their conversation as I passed their praise for him increasingly fueling my anger. "I heard Mr. Hales has been in charge of the company's real estate sector," one said.

"And what a wonderful job he has done! That sector has grown under his leadership."

Another assistant nodded in agreement, adding, "It's not a sector but his own privately owned enterprise and I heard its profits have been surpassing those of the entire company. He has really taken it to the next level."

Someone I didn't recognize chimed in, "Have you seen the Venco Homestead? It is said he personally designed that masterpiece. It is one of the most sought-after places to live in the city!" The group nodded in approval.

"I absolutely adore that neighborhood," a manager gushed. "I have heard it's a self-sustaining community, with everything you could possibly need right at your doorstep, from restaurants and hospitals to clubs, hotels, and even a man-made beach! It is truly a dream home."

One of our General managers spoke with pride filled in his voice, "He has proven himself to be a worthy successor to the Hales legacy." The group murmured in agreement.

Steven Hales, I am going to take back everything you owe me. I silently vowed.

I rounded a corner and spotted Nicole, the media followed her like bees, Micheal and Michelle, trotted alongside her, their little legs struggling to keep up with her speed. My heart ached to scoop them up in a warm hug, but I was reminded of my position.

Instead I walked out of the company, leaving the chaos behind. Finally arriving home, I found my sister sitting in the living room, she handed me a glass of whiskey as I settled beside her on the couch, the amber liquid a comforting sight after today's events.

My brother, clutching his own bottle, exploded in anger, his voice echoing through the room. "I hate her!" he spat, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. "Look at her, acting all high and mighty." The TV showed Nicole, poised and confident, answering questions from a reporter.

"How does it feel to be married to the youngest self-made millionaire, Mrs. Hales?"

"It's not easy, but it has its moments," Nicole replied. "I was beside my husband through countless late nights, I have seen the weight of responsibility on his face, the fatigue in his eyes, and yet, he has always pushed through for us." Her voice cracked, and she wiped tears off her face. "Supporting him through college was one of the most challenging times for me, there were times when I felt like giving up, but seeing him achieve his dreams made every sacrifice worth it."

“Nicole, Nicole, do you have any idea what it takes to build a company that is both strong and successful?” I asked out loud, a hint of amusement in my voice. Lala and Brandon looked at me with curiosity.

I despised betrayal, and Steven had betrayed me in the worst possible way. Now, he and Nicole wanted to take credit for all my hard work? Great, I was more than willing to give it to them. I laughed.

"Why are you laughing, sis?" Lala asked in concern. She looked genuinely frightened, as if she thought I was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"I am just imagining Nicole in a year's time," I said, a sly smile spreading across my face. "After actually supporting Steven."

"What do you mean?" Brandon asked in confusion,

"Am leaving the Hales Group," I said with a smile and walked to my bedroom.

I woke up to the aroma of my mother's cooking the next morning. I made my way to the kitchen.

She handed me a bowl. "Here, this will help with your hangover," she said, her voice laced with worry.

"Mum, what's wrong?" I asked, noticing her furrowed brow and the hidden fear in her voice. "You seem really worried."

"Alexa, what are we going to do? What if Steven chases us out of this house?" I squeezed her hand gently, trying to reassure her, before finishing the soup she had lovingly prepared.

Lala burst into the kitchen, her face filled with worry. "Alexa, Alexa, hurry! Come see!" she exclaimed, tugging on my arm, urging me to follow her.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my tone calm. "Why are you so riled up in the morning?"

Lala's eyes locked onto mine, her expression serious. "Alexa, you need to check the internet. Now."

I quickly grabbed my phone and there I was, dominating the trending searches with a headline that made my stomach twist with anxiety.

I felt a surge of anger and shock as I scrolled through the search results. "What the fuck? Who linked these?" I exclaimed, my voice rising in outrage.