CHAPTER 96

Obetta woke with the bitter taste of last night still in her mouth. The sound of the man’s voice replayed in her mind the one she had sent to rattle Abigail. She had expected reports of Abigail shrinking, of her breaking down under the weight of fear. Instead, she had heard only the opposite.

“She told me,” the man had said on the phone, voice uncertain, “that she doesn’t scare easily.”

That sentence haunted her. It was supposed to be Abigail’s undoing, but it had turned into her declaration of strength.

Obetta rose from bed, her robe dragging along the floor as she crossed to the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, flawless and beautiful, but the storm in her eyes betrayed the turmoil. “No,” she whispered. “She won’t win. She can’t.”

She dressed quickly, choosing her most commanding outfit sleek black dress, sharp heels, diamond earrings that glittered like shards of ice. Today, she would not hide. Today, she would remind the world of who she was.

At the Vandell estate, Abigail was still processing the night before. She sat with a cup of tea in the sunlit breakfast room, her fingers wrapped tightly around the porcelain as though she could draw courage from its warmth.

Luke entered without a word, his presence instantly filling the room. He poured himself coffee, watching her quietly before finally speaking.

“She didn’t break you,” he said.

Abigail looked up, surprised. “You knew she would try something?”

Luke nodded once. “She’s predictable in her desperation. I didn’t know what shape it would take, but I knew she’d move.”

Abigail lowered her eyes to her tea. “She wants me afraid. She wants me to crumble so she can gloat.”

“And yet,” Luke said, setting his cup down with deliberate calm, “you didn’t.”

Something about the way he said it so matter-of-fact, so certain softened her chest. She had been trembling when the car pulled away, but Luke’s voice reminded her of her own strength.

“I almost did,” she admitted.

“But you didn’t,” he repeated, firmer this time. His hand brushed across hers on the table, warm and grounding. “That’s what matters.”

She smiled faintly, heart steadied again.

Obetta made her move that afternoon.

The city’s elite often gathered at a posh lounge in the heart of downtown a place where whispers carried farther than shouts, and where presence alone made statements louder than words. Obetta arrived in her sleek car, stepping out with practiced grace, her heels clicking against the pavement like a battle drum.

Heads turned. They always did.

She entered, her chin high, and within minutes she had drawn a small circle of admirers business wives, socialites, young men with too much wealth and not enough wisdom. She relished the attention, the way eyes followed her every move.

But then she heard it.

Whispers.

“…Have you seen her lately? Always talking about Luke Vandell, but he’s married now…”

“…She’s been trying too hard. It’s almost sad.”

“…Abigail looks calmer than ever, doesn’t she? Saw her last week, poised, smiling…”

The words pricked her like needles. She masked her fury with a smile, but inside, her pride burned. Instead of tarnishing Abigail, she had turned herself into the spectacle.

One of the women leaned closer, her voice low but cutting. “Obetta, darling, you’ve been glowing lately but don’t you think it’s time you stopped chasing shadows? Luke has clearly moved on.”

Obetta’s smile tightened. She excused herself before her mask slipped, retreating to the powder room where she gripped the marble sink until her knuckles whitened.

They were laughing at her. Not Abigail. Her.

Meanwhile, Abigail spent the afternoon with Maya, strolling through a quiet shopping district. The encounter with the man in the car still lingered in the back of her mind, but Maya’s chatter helped ease it away.

“You should’ve seen your face,” Maya teased, bumping Abigail’s shoulder. “You looked like some queen delivering a decree when you told him you don’t scare easily.”

Abigail laughed softly. “I didn’t even think about it. It just… came out.”

“And that’s why it worked,” Maya said. “Because you meant it.”

Abigail paused by a window, her reflection staring back at her. For so long, she had wondered if she was enough….enough to stand in Luke’s world, enough to withstand Obetta’s fury. But the woman staring back now looked different. Stronger.

“Maybe I did,” she murmured.

By evening, word had already reached Luke. He returned home earlier than usual, loosening his tie as he entered Abigail’s sitting room where she was reading.

“She went public today,” he said simply.

Abigail lowered her book. “Obetta?”

He nodded, taking a seat beside her. “Tried to flaunt herself at the lounge. But it didn’t land. People are starting to see her for what she is.”

Abigail’s lips parted in surprise. “Really?”

Luke’s eyes held hers. “She’s losing her shine. And she doesn’t even realize it yet.”

Abigail thought of Obetta’s elegance, her charm, the way she carried herself like a queen. For years, people had worshipped that image. But now… that image was cracking.

“Then she’ll only grow more reckless,” Abigail said quietly.

Luke reached over, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And that will be her undoing.”

Obetta’s fury exploded in private. She paced her bedroom like a trapped lioness, throwing her glass against the wall, shards scattering across the polished floor.

“How dare they laugh at me,” she hissed. “How dare they look at me like I’m pathetic.”

Her reflection caught her again in the mirror perfect hair, perfect face, but cracks showing in her eyes. She hated it. Hated how the world seemed to tilt away from her.

“They will regret it,” she whispered, voice shaking with rage. “Every last one of them.”

But deep down, where pride couldn’t mask the truth, a small whisper gnawed at her: they already were.

At the estate, Abigail prepared for bed. The weight of the day hung on her shoulders, but when Luke entered the room, his presence softened everything.

He came to her without a word, sliding an arm around her waist, resting his chin lightly atop her head.

“She can’t touch us,” he murmured against her hair.

Abigail closed her eyes, leaning into him. For the first time in weeks, she believed it fully. Not because Obetta had stopped trying, but because her efforts no longer held power.

And somewhere in the night, as she drifted to sleep in Luke’s embrace, Abigail realized that Obetta’s greatest enemy was no longer her.

It was herself.