CHAPTER 85

WE MET IN HIGH SCHOOL..

The morning sun spread golden light across the Vandell estate, pouring through wide windows and filling the house with warmth. Birds sang outside, and the sound of distant cars drifted in from the city, but inside, the rhythm of the home felt unhurried.

Maya had left not long ago. Abigail had walked her to the front entrance, hugged her warmly, and sent her off with the driver she had promised. She lingered a moment on the steps, watching the car roll out through the gates, before finally stepping back inside.

She didn’t know Luke had been waiting.

He was in the living room, leaning against the tall armrest of the sofa, his hands in his pockets. His eyes followed her as she came in, her expression still carrying the gentle softness of the night before.

“Your friend seems… important to you,” Luke said casually, though his voice held weight.

Abigail glanced at him, her brows lifting faintly. “She is.”

There was a pause. Luke’s gaze stayed steady on her, his silence asking the question he hadn’t spoken yet. Finally, he moved closer, his tone low but curious.

“How did you two meet? You act like you’ve known each other far longer than you admit.”

Abigail hesitated, her hand brushing lightly over the back of the chair as if she needed something solid beneath her fingers. She breathed in slowly, then exhaled.

“We met in high school,” she said softly.

Luke tilted his head, surprised. “High school?”

Abigail nodded. “Yes. She wasn’t in my class, but we had overlapping activities. There was this inter-school debate back then, and she was one of the people I kept noticing. Not because she tried to stand out but because she never let anyone silence her.”

A faint smile tugged her lips as she continued. “I remember thinking she was different. Not loud, not showy. Just firm. Even when people mocked her, she stayed grounded. And one day… I don’t even know how, we just started talking.”

Luke listened closely, his brows furrowing as if trying to imagine a younger version of Abigail, timid and searching, alongside a younger Maya standing tall in her quiet defiance.

“Were you close back then?” he asked.

Abigail hesitated. “Not like now. I think… I was too scared to hold onto people. I admired her, but I never let myself stay near. When school ended, I lost contact with her. And now… it feels like life is giving me another chance.”

Luke was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. He could see the truth in her words the flicker of warmth that lit her features whenever Maya’s name came up. And though a part of him tightened at the thought, another part understood.

“She makes you feel safe,” Luke said quietly.

Abigail met his gaze. “Yes. She does.”

The honesty in her voice struck him deeper than he expected. He nodded slowly, pressing his lips together before stepping back. “Then I’m glad she’s here,” he said simply, though his tone carried more layers than he let on.

…………………………….

Meanwhile, in a lavish apartment draped in silk curtains and polished glass, Obetta sat cross-legged on her bed, her phone in hand. The glow of the screen lit her sharp eyes as she scrolled through the documents she had received.

Photographs. Records. Snippets of Maya’s life laid bare before her.

She studied each detail carefully, her lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. “So this is who you are,” she murmured under her breath, her voice like silk drawn over steel.

She leaned back against the headboard, speaking softly to herself, almost as though she were rehearsing. “Everyone thinks you’re untouchable because you’re bold. But boldness breaks when you press against the right wounds. And I think I see yours now.”

Her fingers tapped the edge of the phone, her mind already spinning threads of schemes. But she didn’t move yet. She wasn’t ready to play her hand. Not yet.

“Patience,” she whispered, her smile sharpening. “The sweetest downfall comes when they least expect it.”

The words hung in the stillness of her room, echoing her intent. She would wait, she would watch, and when the time was right she would strike.

Abigail had moved into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. Luke followed at a slower pace, watching her in silence for a while. He saw the way her shoulders relaxed, how she seemed lighter after her conversation with Maya, as though something inside her had been set free.

“High school,” Luke repeated, almost to himself. “I didn’t expect that.”

Abigail turned, glass in hand. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, stepping closer, “you looked at her like she was a stranger you trusted instantly. Now I understand it wasn’t instant. It was… a memory resurfacing.”

She nodded, her eyes softening. “Exactly.”

Luke exhaled, the corner of his mouth curving faintly. He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against her arm a rare gesture of tenderness. “I like knowing pieces of your past. Even the small ones. It makes me see you clearer.”

Abigail’s heart warmed at his words. She leaned slightly toward him, her voice low. “Then I’ll tell you more someday. But for now… can we just stay here? Just like this?”

Luke nodded, his hand lingering a moment longer before he let it fall.

Back in her apartment, night had fallen. The city lights blinked outside her wide windows, but Obetta didn’t care for the view. She sat before her mirror, brushing her hair slowly, her reflection smirking back at her.

She whispered again, as though her reflection were an ally. “You can laugh now, Maya. You can stand tall. But when I’m done, you’ll see what it feels like to be broken under my heel.”

Her laughter was soft, low, and cold, filling the otherwise silent room.

The day stretched on quietly for Abigail and Luke. They didn’t speak much after their exchange in the kitchen, but there was a sense of ease between them. Abigail carried the memory of her high school days in her heart, grateful that Maya had re-entered her life.

Luke, meanwhile, stood on the balcony later that night, the city lights spread out before him. He thought about Abigail’s words, about Maya, about the strange threads of past and present weaving together in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

He sighed, the night air cool against his face. Whatever was coming, he could feel it building beneath the surface but for now, he let himself rest in the quiet of the estate, where Abigail’s presence was enough to steady him.

And somewhere across the city, Obetta plotted in silence, her plan growing sharper with each passing houril’s intimacy deepening before Obetta makes her next step?