CHAPTER 52

WELCOME TO OUR CIRCLE...

The first thing Abigail noticed was the silence just as if they had come to the graveyard.

Not the warm kind that made you feel at home. This was the deliberate, weighted hush of women taking measure of someone new.

The club’s main lounge was a masterpiece of old money: polished mahogany panels, chandeliers that looked like they’d been hanging there for centuries, and a faint, expensive fragrance in the air that made it seem as though the very walls had been perfumed.

Luke had escorted her to the entrance but didn’t step inside. This was her arena now. He’d simply placed a hand at the small of her back, leaned down, and murmured, “Remember, how you carry yourself is the answer to every question they won’t ask out loud, their final judgement for each day is passed to you with how well you're posed. Don't let Obetta crawl into your skin. She dosen’t worth it”

And then he was gone going back to the car as the driver roared the car to life and they left.he had promised to come pick her up when she was done.

Abigail kept her posture calm, shoulders relaxed, her steps unhurried as she moved toward the circle of women seated around low tables. Most were dressed in the kind of wealth that didn’t scream but whispered in fine detail: Diamond brooches, silk blouses that caught the light just right, handbags that cost more than most cars.

Obetta was there, of course positioned like she was queen of the room, draped in ivory satin, her dark hair falling in perfect waves. She was the first to let her gaze roam deliberately over Abigail, starting at her head and ending at her shoes.

“My, my,” Obetta said with a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “We’ve all heard so much about you.”

The tone wasn’t welcoming, it was a stage set for mockery. And right on cue, a ripple of murmurs moved through the group.

Abigail didn’t bristle. She had made a decision on the drive here: she would not rise to their bait. Not today.

“Thank you for having me,” she said simply, her voice calm, almost soft. She took the seat farthest from the center, not claiming attention but not shrinking either.

It was like tossing blood into the water. The women, sensing a target, began circling in the way only social predators could.

“She’s… quieter than I imagined,” one woman murmured to another, just loud enough to be heard.

“I wonder if she even knows the expectations here,” another said, feigning concern.

“I suppose Luke didn’t marry her for her… social experience,” came the third, drawing out the pause for maximum sting.

Obetta gave a low laugh. “Well, not everyone comes from the same background. We can’t expect her to understand our traditions right away.”

Abigail sipped her tea. No flinch. No defensive glance. Just the same steady expression, though inside she cataloged every voice, every insult.

And that was when the shift happened.

A woman she hadn’t met yet poised, striking, with silver streaks in her dark hair and a gaze that carried quiet authority leaned forward slightly.

“That’s an interesting assumption, Obetta,” she said mildly. “Considering tradition is only as valuable as the people who keep it alive.”

The room stilled for a moment. Abigail glanced at her, and the woman offered a faint smile before continuing.

“We shouldn’t mistake quiet for weakness,” the woman added, still looking at Obetta. “Some of the most influential women I’ve ever known never needed to raise their voices. They simply let others underestimate them, and that was always… their advantage.”

The words weren’t dripping with sugar, they were deliberate, measured, and they landed. Abigail could feel the ripple of discomfort through the table.

Obetta’s smile tightened, just slightly. “Of course,” she said smoothly. “I meant no offense.”

The older woman leaned back, satisfied, and changed the subject with effortless control. “Abigail, isn’t it? I’m Carmen Lois Cruz. My family’s been part of this club for four generations.”

The name was familiar. Even Abigail had heard whispers of the Lois Cruz family. Their reach in both business and politics was legendary.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Abigail said sincerely.

Carmen’s eyes softened, though her posture remained regal. “The pleasure is mine. And welcome to our circle.”

The rest of the meeting carried on wine was poured, new charity projects were discussed, travel stories exchanged but the tone toward Abigail shifted. Not warmly, not yet, but with a touch more caution. Carmen’s subtle defense had reminded them that the meek newcomer might have allies they hadn’t anticipated.

When the meeting finally ended and the women began drifting out, Obetta brushed past Abigail. She didn’t speak, but her eyes held a message: This isn’t over.

Abigail only smiled faintly in return, her silence sharper than anything she could have said. She was willing more than ever now to take up whatever challenge Obetta brought her way, she won't and never flinch. She promised herself that the next meeting that would be held…was going to be Obetta's humiliation.

As she stepped outside into the late afternoon air, she saw Luke waiting near the car. His gaze swept over her face, searching for signs of strain.

“How was it?” he asked.

Abigail slid into the car, her lips curving just slightly. “Interesting as expected”

He raised a brow but didn’t press. And she didn’t tell him not yet about the woman who had spoken for her. Some cards, she decided, were better kept close until the right moment.

Luke has only grinned and signaled to the driver to drive. The driver Mr Thomas had been his driver ever since he was in his early twenties. Kate had issued for him to be changed but Luke refused having grown fond of the old man. He had a wife and two daughters whom he was allowed to visit once a month and sometimes Luke would let him spend weekend with them.