016

SHE still didn't respond, but just kept fumbling with her phone. Amelia’s eyes narrowed. 

“Claire… why are you fumbling like that?”

Seated at the far end of the couch, she had been battling with that phone ever since it started buzzing insistently. The screen lit up, vibrated again, but Claire’s fingers only hovered over it before pressing the side button quickly to silence it.

“Nothing,” Claire muttered, forcing a weak smile as she pushed the phone face down on the couch cushion. “It is really nothing,” she added.

“Nothing?” Amelia leaned back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. “You have been avoiding that call like it is poison. Who was that?”

Claire laughed lightly, too lightly. 

“Oh, come on, Amelia. Do you have to interrogate me about every call? It is probably a wrong number, or… one of my friends just being silly.”

Amelia’s gaze lingered on her, unconvinced. She knew her younger sister too well; Claire always gave herself away with that nervous giggle. 

“If you say so,” Amelia murmured, though her tone carried suspicion.

“I really should get going,” Claire announced suddenly, standing up and reaching for her handbag. She avoided Amelia’s eyes, tucking stray hair behind her ear. “I didn’t even realize the time had gone like this.”

“So soon?” Amelia raised a brow. “You had said you would stay for dinner.”

“I will take a rain check, I promise.” Claire waved her hand dismissively, already moving toward the door. “Don’t wait up.”

Before Amelia could respond, she was gone, her hurried footsteps echoing faintly against the tiled floor.

Once outside, Claire didn’t stop walking until she was a good distance away from the building, past the hedges and the gate, her heels clicking faster against the pavement. Her chest rose and fell with anxious breaths. She pulled out her phone from her bag just as it began to ring again, the same name flashing on the screen.

This time, she didn’t hesitate. She swiped quickly and pressed the device to her ear.

“Hey,” she hissed, her voice sharp. “What is it? Do you want to spoil everything already?”

There was a beat of silence, then a low female voice came through, calm and steady.

“Okay, calm down,” she said. “I haven’t spoilt anything yet, so relax…”

Claire’s grip tightened on the phone. She glanced over her shoulder nervously, her eyes darting toward Amelia’s house in the distance.

“Don’t tell me to relax,” she whispered fiercely. “If Amelia ever finds out this way—”

The voice cut in smoothly, almost mocking.

“She won’t. Not if you keep playing your part as well. By the way, are you together?”

“I just arrived hers, I was supposed to have dinner with her and my niece, but it is okay now, I'm out.”

“Oh! I see. Well, she still won't,” the owner of the voice argued.

Claire rolled her eyes.

“What is it please?”

“Alright. Please, listen carefully—”

And just like that, the line between family loyalty and dangerous secrets began to blur.

***

Vivian’s bedroom looked like a mini showroom. The dressing table was buried under a mess of designer clothes, their tags still dangling, while Fiona half-heartedly flipped through them. She picked up a sequined dress, let out a faint “hmm,” and dropped it again, her face carrying the kind of disinterest only a tired student could manage.

“Girl, I told you to stop by yesterday,” Vivian’s voice came from the doorway as she sauntered in, a face mannequin balanced in her arms. The wig perched on it shimmered under the light, sleek and expensive. “But no… unseen classes, right?” she teased, her laughter sharp.

Fiona rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t even start. You think I enjoyed running from one lecturer to another? This is me making it up today.”

Vivian laughed harder as she set the mannequin on the table, smoothing the wig as if it were fine silk. 

“So, this was what she wore for the Charity Gala. I saw it in a magazine and on I*******m and… voilà!” She gestured proudly, like she had discovered treasure.

Fiona turned, eyebrows raised. 

“Wait… you saw this hair on her and decided to get one?”

“Of course.” Vivian folded her arms, leaning back with satisfaction. “If she can work it, then so can I.”

Fiona froze, her mouth slightly open. 

“Hold on… you are beginning to stalk your sugar daddy’s wife?”

Vivian scoffed, letting out that mocking laugh of hers.

“Ahh! Just wait,” Fiona pressed on, gesturing at the chaos of luxury goods scattered across the table. “The day Mrs. Cole finds out you are her husband’s mistress, the day she notices you are copying her… this,” she waved at the clothes, “all this will end.”

“End?” Vivian’s eyes widened in mockery. She leaned closer, her voice dripping with pride. “Did you say end? Girl, Adrian loves me. He loves me so much.”

“I see.” Fiona folded her arms now, her tone calm but cutting. “But 2.5 million dollars? A whole 2.5 million just on clothes, hair, and perfumes? Not even one kobo on investments?”

Vivian burst out laughing. 

“Investment? Did you say investment? Please, hair is an investment. And Amelia, she is a standard. I need to beat her at her own game.”

“Seriously? You think that would work?” Fiona leaned forward, incredulous.

“Work?” Vivian smirked. “Listen, the moment I notice Adrian slipping through my fingers, you know what I will do?” She paused for effect, then clapped her hands together with glee. “I will get pregnant!”

Fiona gasped, her voice trembling. 

“Vee?!”

“Yes!” Vivian’s laughter rang out as she stroked the wig again, her eyes glittering with wild confidence. “In that way, Adrian will have no choice but to make me wife number two.”

Fiona shook her head, disbelief written all over her face. 

“You are unbelievable. This is madness.”

Vivian only grinned wider. 

“No, baby. It is called calculated madness. You get that? Calculated madness.”

Fiona let out a frustrated groan, throwing her hands in the air. 

“Oh God! My friend is going nuts, I guess.”

Vivian’s laugh echoed in the room, filling the silence that followed, daring anyone to challenge her obsession.