*Noami's POV*
There was only a second of silence in the room; then, it was as if the enemy dropped a bomb.
"You cannot do this, Naomi," Aunt said with disbelief, her face contorted by the stress. "This wedding is beyond your power to walk away from!"
I rose and took my suitcase, which was held up with my hand tightly, I gripped on the handle as though my knuckles turned white due to holding it that tight.
Yes, I did.
My tongue gave me a flawless intonation filled with coldness.
Aunt Mildred was burning with rage. She was trembling and pointed fingers at me. "If you do this, then I will take your father’s inheritance as the first thing."
I knew she was threatening me not to go Well, but I was determined not to allow all that to get to me.
Aunt Mildred had been my guardian since I was fourteen, ever since the accident that took my parents away and left me alone with nothing but memories of a vanished life.
For nine years, she had been the one to rule over and the decisions regarding my future.
But not anymore.
I took a long, hard breath, and saw myself carrying the full weight of my past everywhere I went.
"You can shove the inheritance down your ass, Aunty," I answered back without stopping to think.
Immediately I said those words, I felt a heavy slap on my cheeks. The slap rang with no sympathy throughout the room. It was a sound to which, justly or not, one can become accustomed.
I staggered, I was very surprised; my cheek felt burning; my heart was incessantly thumping against my ribcage.
I tasted blood.
But the blow is a minor part of the whole story.
What I found most surprising was—
For her, being violent was okay as long as it meant that I was in my place.
Rachel gasped beside her mother, eyes wide in feigned shock. But it was there, hidden behind the act, satisfaction.
"Mum!" Rachel shouted, moving closer. "How ungrateful of her! Just let me—"
She raised her hand to smack me, too, but I managed to grip her wrist in midair.
Definitely not today.
I threw her back quickly, hard, and she fell backward.
Aunt Mildred came in between us. "Enough, Rachel," she said with a quiet, strong authority, stretching a little the words she said. "If she pleads to go, let her go. But remember, Naomi—"
She marched ahead slowly, her presence seeming to cut off my very air. There's no place for you in this house anymore, not even at your father's company. From today, her lips arched, and she spoke the final word. "To us, you are gone."
Dead.
The term fell in the silence of the air like dust.
I thought I'd be hurt by all this drama, but strangely it didn't.
Nevertheless, this was not the most horrible moment.
Not after the way Alexander and Rachel had betrayed me.
I realized that Alexander was standing there. He was supposed to be my man.
He stood there quietly, watching everything, not even saying a word while I I was experiencing all that.
Coward.
I swallowed my emotions down through the tightness of my throat.
With my shoulders squared, I studied both of them.
Rachel was leaning back with her smug, self-satisfied grin.
Alexander dared not say a word. It was a weakness in him.
I gave a slow breath and reserved this moment.
Soon enough, however, I would make them pay.
I will be back.
I didn’t say it aloud, but I kept the promise deep within me.
Then, without another word, I just turned and left.
...
The air outside was very cold and sharp, I breathed in as the air can burn my lungs and seemed to fill it to the brim.
This is it.
Freedom.
Nothing, no home, no money, no hope.
I was left with nothing.
I walked toward where my garage was all of a sudden, I stopped.
Of course, it won’t be there.
I didn't own any car, not even one.
I was just disowned.
Everything I had ever known, the wealth, the privilege, the security, was locked behind that door.
I laughed for just a moment, with a hint of bitterness.
Yesterday night, I was on my way to make the necessary arrangements for my wedding.
Now I was standing on the sidewalk with my suitcase, trying to figure out where the hell to go.
I swallowed the lump that came in my throat and pulled my coat tighter around me.
I must get moving.
I should leave this place and get away from the scenery of life, which is no longer mine.
I carried my suitcase and moved away from the mansion, from my past.
I took the first step
Then another.
And only after that, with no looking behind me.
...
I walked for hours.
The city vanished from view, glowing street lights, honking cars, and people passing through their sanity, while mine had collapsed.
I barely felt the cold anymore, all I could feel is pain.
The treachery.
The disgrace.
The rage.
I walked deeper and deeper until my knees were numbing and were hurting.
Somewhere on the road, I came across a boarding place, and it was a wreck of a motel.
I stopped and found myself in a difficult situation for the first time.
“It's not like I had any other options.”
I dipped my hand in my pocket and saw a few crumbled notes that I had snatched while going out.
A meager sum.
But enough money for tonight.
I closed the door behind me.
The receptionist barely looked up as I handed over the cash.
"Room 206," he muttered, sliding a key toward me.
The door creaked as I pushed it open.
The room was interestingly filled with the smell of dust, which made it seem like it had never been cleaned. The bed was hard like it was made of bricks, and the wallpaper was already peeling.
The world that was outside was not what I was used to.
But it was mine, For now, at least.
I Sat at the corner of my bed, I put my head on my hands and closed my eyes.
Everything happened so fast.
In one moment, I was a bride to be, the next moment, I was a woman “with no home, no family, no future.”
I forced back the tears that wanted to drop and I tried to breathe.
I won't cry.
I couldn't.
Shedding tears meant I was breaking and I'm not broken.
Not yet.
Raising my head, staring at my reflection in the tiny mirror across the room.
My face was still very red from the slap.
My face had never been like this, swollen, from all the pain I had experienced.
But I was not a coward.
I clenched my fists, inhaling sharply.
"I’m not done," I said.
This was not the end.
This was only the beginning.
I am homeless today as I have lost everything.
Despite the situation, I would bounce back.
And one day—
Rachel and Alexander would regret ever betraying me.
I would make them pay, no matter what it takes.
I promised myself.
I would survive this.
And I would become victorious.
I quickly transferred some of the money I had before aunt Mildred will freeze my account.
And with that I booked a ticket, out of this country... My past.
Naomi's POV The interview ended at exactly 8:00 p.m.By 8:03, I was already trending on four social media platforms.By 8:07, there were hashtags I hadn’t authorized and headlines I hadn’t written or thought about.How fast people spread rumors or even jump into conclusions.And by 8:15, my inbox was an avalanche—sympathy, skepticism, celebration, and venom all twisted into one tidal wave of “Naomi, you’re everything,” and “Naomi, how dare you.”I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it's definitely not this.---Raymond didn’t ask questions when I stepped into the car outside the studio. He just reached across the console and laced our fingers together.“Relax babe,You’re shaking,” he said softly.“I think I’m still in shock.”“You were brilliant there.”“I was visible,” I whispered. “That’s what they’ll remember.”“Then make sure it’s for the right reasons.”His voice was calm, it was soothing, like an anchor in the storm.We didn’t speak much the rest of the drive. I watched the
The camera light was hot, it was Blinding.But I didn’t blink, not even once.I sat with my back straight, fingers lightly interlocked on my lap. Across from me, the host—a tall, composed woman named Vivien Gray—smiled with professional calm. We’d never met before this moment. But I could already tell she was sharp, fair, and didn’t intend to give me an easy pass.I didn’t want one.“Welcome,” she said, voice clear as glass. “Tonight, we have Naomi Montego-Darlington joining us in her first and only live interview regarding the controversial relaunch of the Sanborn Project.”I smiled politely. “Thank you for having me.”Vivien turned slightly to the main camera. “There’s been much speculation—about your return, about the legacy you carry, and about what Sanborn really means to the communities it’s meant to serve. We’re going to unpack that tonight.”“Please,” I said softly. “Let’s.”She leaned forward. “Let’s begin with the obvious: why now?”The question echoed in my chest.Why now?
Naomi's POV The studio smelled like warm lights and polished wood. It was too bright, Too sterile, Like a courtroom dressed as a stage.Everything buzzed—cables, phones, makeup brushes fluttering like moths around my cheeks. Charlotte paced near the back, whispering updates into her headset. The stylist tugged gently at my sleeve while the producer double-checked my mic, her voice cool and efficient.We were fifteen minutes from going live.Charlotte paced outside the door. Kendra was in the control room, coordinating slides. I stared at my reflection in the vanity mirror—still Naomi, but my face was looking sharper, Softer, too. My features were calm, but something inside me trembled, shifting like a storm beneath calm waters. This was the moment they’d been trying to crush. And here I was—still standing, still speaking, still me.And carrying life.The thought made my throat tighten.Raymond had offered to wait backstage, but I asked him to stay home with Miranda instead. I neede
Naomi's POV The article dropped before I opened my eyes.I knew it before my phone lit up. Something in the air had changed, it was heavier, tighter, like a storm pressing against the glass from the outside in.Kendra’s message came first: You’re trending and It’s not good.Raymond was still asleep beside me. Miranda was humming faintly in her room, her voice rising and falling like birdsong through the hallway. But the moment I tapped the link Kendra sent, the warmth in my chest turned to ice.> “Beneath the Violets: Naomi Montego’s Quiet Rise Back to Power”Scandal, Silence, Secrets, What does the Montego heiress owe the public—and what is she hiding?They didn’t hold back.They dragged up my father’s withdrawal from Sanborn, Rehashed the takeover attempt by Rachel. They Questioned the timing of our revival, claimed I was using “soft feminism and trauma language” to rebrand myself after disgrace. They didn’t call me a fraud outright—but they didn’t have to, The implications curled
Raymond's POV I’ve sat in rooms with billion-dollar contracts on the table a lot of times and never felt as much pressure as I did watching Naomi stir her tea three times and not drink it.She hadn’t touched her coffee that morning either, or her toast, and the past few nights, she’d tossed and turned so much that I stopped pretending to be asleep and just held her hand under the sheets.She said it was just stress. That her mind was too full. And I believed that—partly. But there was something else, something deeper vibrating beneath the surface of her. She was running on fumes, emotionally and physically, and I wasn’t sure she realized it.Naomi wasn’t someone who asked for help. She offered it like oxygen to others, but when it came to herself, she tightened like a fist. She thought surviving meant silence. But I’d learned her language—the small pauses, the forced smiles, the way she flinched from garlic one night when I was cooking, only to pretend nothing was wrong.It was sub
Naomi's POV We started the next morning with a list.Leona sat across from me at the conference table, tying her curls into a tight knot as I spread the Sanborn materials across the surface.“We need three things before we go near Elijah Cross,” she said. “Legal cover, political leverage, and someone he doesn’t see coming.”I nodded, already making notes. “Beatrice knows people in planning and zoning. I’ll talk to her today. We need the Sanborn land frozen—no sudden transfers.”“I’ll talk to Kendra,” Leona added. “She’s still got friends in investigative journalism. Quiet ones.”“And Rachel?” I asked.Leona’s jaw ticked. “Keep her busy. Just not involved in this.”I didn’t argue.While Leona made calls, I sat down with Beatrice in the small staff kitchen.She listened carefully, then opened her planner and pulled out a business card. “City registrar owes me a favor. He can flag that land for public interest. Temporary hold. Give you some breathing room.”“What do I say to him?”“Noth