All Chapters of Billionaire hits rock bottom : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

CHAPTER 2: UNEMPLOYED FOR TOO LONGMorning doesn’t arrive in this house.It announces itself.Cynthia’s pots collide in the kitchen like weapons. Cupboards slam. A kettle screams longer than necessary. Every sound is intentional — a reminder that I am awake later than she approves of.I open my eyes before she calls my name. She never does. She doesn’t need to.The ceiling greets me again, that same cracked line stretching across it like a scar that refuses to heal. My body aches from the floor, but I welcome the pain. It’s honest. It doesn’t pretend to be a concern.Above me, Thandeka is already awake, scrolling through her phone. Her face is tight, guarded. When our eyes meet, she forces a small smile — the kind you give strangers in elevators.“Morning,” I say softly.“Morning,” she replies, already looking away.That’s how conversations end now. Before they begin.I fold the thin blanket and push the mattress into the corner, careful not to make noise. Cynthia hates noise that com

CHAPTER 4: THE FIRST ACCUSATIONThe house smelled of cinnamon and fear that morning. Cynthia was in the kitchen before anyone else, humming a tune that carried no joy, only calculation. I stepped into the living room carefully, every movement measured, aware of the invisible line I was not allowed to cross.Thandeka sat on the sofa, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. I wanted to reach for her, to reassure myself that someone still believed in me, but the distance between us had grown too wide. Every glance I cast toward her was met with hesitation. It was an invisible wall thicker than any brick.Cynthia’s eyes met mine as I moved past her. Not a greeting, not even acknowledgment — just that sharp, appraising stare that made me feel like a criminal in my own skin.“I was thinking,” she said, voice casual, too casual, “that men who are unemployed for years develop certain… habits.”I froze. My chest tightened. My hands, hidden in my pockets, clenched.“Habits?

CHAPTER 6: CONVICTED WITHOUT EVIDENCEThe hallway was longer than I remembered.Every step felt heavier than the last, weighted with shame, anger, and disbelief. My suitcase — barely more than a backpack with a few essentials — swung from my shoulder like a chain, dragging me further into humiliation.Thandeka stood at the doorway, tears streaking her face. Her hands were trembling, but she couldn’t touch me. Cynthia’s arm was around her shoulders, steady, controlling, protective — as if I were the intruder who had broken the law simply by existing in their home.“Please… Thandeka,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “Please believe me. It’s not what you think. I swear, I didn’t—”“Stop it!” Thandeka cried, shaking her head violently. “I… I don’t know who to trust anymore!”Cynthia tightened her grip around her daughter, giving me a look that could have pierced steel. It was not anger. Not even malice. It was a victory.“You’ve heard her, haven’t you, Thandeka?” Cynthia said, voice calm bu

CHAPTER 8: THE SECRET HE MUST UNCOVERThe city felt heavier than usual that morning. The streets moved like rivers, full of people with lives that seemed impossibly far away from mine. Yet every face I passed reminded me of what I had lost: my home, my love, my dignity.But now, for the first time in years, I had a purpose. A direction. The traditional doctor’s words burned in my mind: “You do not know your father. You do not know the ancestors that guide your blood.”I had always known something was missing. The silence of my mother, the absence of a father figure, the holes in family stories I could never complete — all of it made sense now. I had been searching for answers my entire life, but only yesterday had I understood where to start.I returned to Sipho’s apartment and opened my laptop, determined to track down my father. The challenge was monumental. I didn’t know his full name. I didn’t know if he was alive. I didn’t know if anyone would even tell me the truth.All I had wa

CHAPTER 10: THE RITE OF BLOODThe morning air was sharp, almost biting, as if the world itself were testing me. I had slept fitfully in a guest room at Pastor Zondo’s house — the first night in the house that had once been a stranger’s domain, now the domain of my father. I had left the couch at Sipho’s apartment behind, the shadow of exile replaced by the uneasy weight of proximity to the man who had held the key to my life all these years.Breakfast was quiet. Pastor Zondo’s wife, a composed woman with a gentle smile, had served food, but there was an unspoken tension in the room. She glanced at me occasionally, a flicker of curiosity and caution in her eyes, as if sensing that the boy in front of her was not just a guest, but something far more significant — a secret hidden within the family.Pastor Zondo himself didn’t speak much. His eyes, always calm, always observing, lingered on me with an intensity I had not felt from anyone before. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke.“Tod