20

Linda reached her daughter before Clara could even turn fully. The air between them thickened instantly, something unspoken but deeply understood passing in that single glance they shared.

Clara’s fingers tightened around the paper, but she was too late. Linda snatched it from her with trembling hands, the crumpled edges crackling loudly in the tense silence. For a brief second, Linda just stared at it hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something less cruel.

They didn’t.

Her lips parted, breath catching, and then she read it aloud, her voice barely holding together.

“Tell your daughter to stay away from Alexander Harrington.”

The words fell heavy, like a verdict already passed.

A tear slipped down Linda’s cheek before she could stop it. She inhaled sharply, rubbing her lips together as though trying to force herself back into control, but the fear had already seeped too deep. Her fingers shook, clutching the paper like it might burn her if she held it any longer.

“Mother, why are you crying?” Clara asked softly.

Linda let out a broken laugh that held no humor, only dread.

“I knew this would happen,” she whispered, then louder, her voice cracking under the weight of it, “I knew we’d be threatened like this. I knew it!”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, panic clawing its way out. She did her wrapper very well, wiping her face with her palm.

Clara swallowed, her own fear rising, but she forced herself to stand firm. Someone had to.

“Mother, please… this is just a mere threat,” she said, though her fingers curled tightly at her sides, betraying her. “Elara is married to Alexander Harrington. This is expectedAlexander is a rich man, he'd have enemies who would want her downfall.”

"Lord, have mercy." Linda said.

“She wouldn’t marry a man who couldn’t protect her,” Clara added, lifting her chin slightly. “Elara wouldn’t make that kind of mistake.”

She didn’t know Alexander, not truly. But she knew her sister. And that had to be enough.

Right?

Linda shook her head slowly, her expression darkening, something deeper than fear settling into her eyes.

“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice low, almost haunted. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Clara stepped closer. “Then explain it to me...”

“Elara’s life is in danger!” Linda snapped, her voice suddenly rising, sharp enough to cut. “What do you know? I told you...I’ve worked with that family before. I know what they are capable of.”

Her hands clenched tightly at her sides.

“And I can assure you,” she continued, each word deliberate, heavy, “that family will never let her live in peace.”

The room seemed to shrink around them.

“Mom...”

“Shut up!” Linda yelled, the force of it startling even herself.

Silence crashed down instantly.

Her gaze swept around the space...the broken bottles scattered across the floor, the overturned chairs, the remnants of chaos that now felt like a warning rather than an accident.

Everything suddenly meant something.

Everything felt connected.

Clara exhaled slowly, pressing her lips together. Arguing wasn’t going to help. Not now.

Without another word, she reached behind her neck, pulling off her apron. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, worn and stained from the day’s work. She shoved her hand into the pocket, pulling out her phone and the small amount of cash she had kept in it.

“I think it’s time we leave,” Clara said, her voice calmer now, steadier. “Let’s go to Lagos, Mom. What are we still doing here?”

She slung the apron over her shoulder. “We can’t stay in a place where people can just walk in and threaten us like this.”

Linda didn’t respond, she just stood there, her expression hardening, something stubborn and unyielding settling into her posture.

Then she turned.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said flatly.

Clara blinked. “What?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Linda continued, already walking toward the door, “Elara will choose.”

Her steps were firm, resolute.

“Between her life and her marriage.”

Clara froze.

“I love my daughter,” Linda added, her voice tightening, emotion threading through every syllable. “Do you know how much I sacrificed for her? How much I gave up? Just so my daughter could have a good life, but she won't just listen to me.”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

“I will not stand here and watch one stupid family take her life from her.”

And with that, she walked out.

Clara stood still for a moment, her mind racing, heart pounding in uneven rhythms.

Nothing about this felt simple anymore.

Nothing about this felt safe.

She hurried after her mother, her thoughts already spiraling toward one conclusion.

"I need to tell Elara everything."

***

(HARRINGTON MANSION—TIANA’S ROOM)

The room was immaculate, polished to perfection, every surface gleaming. It was the kind of space that demanded control, and Tiana Harrington embodied that control effortlessly.

She picked up her phone, dialing her son’s number with precise, impatient movements. The line rang once. Twice.

Then he answered.

“Where are you?” she demanded instantly, skipping any formality.

“I’m not in Lagos at the moment, mom.” his voice came, cold and distant, like he couldn’t be bothered.

Tiana’s expression darkened.

“Are you listening to yourself?” she snapped. “Today is Alex’s reception, and you’re telling me you won’t attend?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Mother, I’m not coming anywhere. He didn’t invite me..”

“Shut up, idiot!” she cut him off sharply, her patience snapping completely. “What exactly are you doing in the UK that you refused to come back? I told you to see me before leaving, but no...you always think you know better!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, his tone even colder now. “I refuse to pretend like I care about him when I don’t.”

And before she could respond the call ended.

Tiana stared at her phone for a moment, disbelief flashing across her face before irritation took over completely.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

Her grip tightened around the phone.

If he continued like this—distancing himself, rejecting the family—it wouldn’t just be embarrassing.

It would be inconvenient.

And Tiana Harrington did not tolerate inconvenience.

She exhaled sharply, setting the phone aside before walking toward the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her—perfectly composed, elegant, untouchable.

She adjusted her hair carefully, smoothing it into place as though restoring order to herself.

Everything was about control in the Harrington family.

But just as she was finishing, the door opened without warning.

A man stepped in, he's in his mid-forties, looking so confident. Too relaxed for someone entering uninvited.

“Tiana,” he called casually, already closing the distance between them.

Before she could react, his arms slipped around her from behind in an unwelcome embrace.

Tiana’s response was immediate.

Her elbow drove sharply into his stomach.

He groaned slightly, stepping back but instead of anger, a grin spread across his face.

She turned, glaring at him.

“When did that nonsense start?” she asked coldly.

“Come on,” he chuckled, straightening up like nothing happened. “We’re cousins.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Desmond,” she said, her tone dropping into something dangerously calm, “you better keep your hands and your intentions to yourself.”

He laughed.

“That’s the problem,” he replied easily. “I don’t know how to do that.”

There was something shameless about him, something openly indulgent.

“I was actually hoping,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, “you’d give me a little guidance.”

Tiana raised a brow. “On what?”

A slow, suggestive grin spread across his face. “Alex’s wife of course.”

Tiana didn’t react immediately.

But then a faint smirk touched her lips.

“You’ll die the next day,” she said coolly. “Don’t try it.”

Desmond shrugged, unfazed.

“Well,” he said, leaning casually against the dresser, “I still want to.”

His tone was light, but his eyes held something more calculating.

“She’s beautiful,” he went on, almost thoughtfully. “And there’s something about her, something that makes me want to push boundaries.”

Tiana watched him carefully now.

“I just want a taste,” he added bluntly. “Nothing too complicated.”

Silence lingered for a moment.

Desmond was known for this—his appetite, his lack of restraint. Women came and went in his life like passing moments, none of them ever lasting long enough to matter.

And yet this was different.This wasn’t just any woman. This was Alexander’s wife.

Tiana turned slightly, her gaze drifting back to the mirror, though her mind was elsewhere now, calculating, aligning possibilities.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she said slowly.

Desmond smirked. “That’s the only kind worth playing.”

Tiana’s lips curved just slightly.

A disruption in Alex’s marriage won't be that, she badly wants to see them fall apart, she wants every downfall of Alexander Harrington.