Let's Wait and See, My Cruel Husband

I had promised myself I would never call him. Ever. I had built a small, careful life with Gillian, even if it was poison wrapped in gold, even if it left me empty and bruised. But this wasn’t about promises. This was about Zenith. “A-Aamon… it’s me… Odette.” “Odette,” he said slowly, like he was tasting the word, letting it roll around his mouth before he swallowed it. “P-please… Aamon. Please. It’s Zenith! My daughter. She’s been taken. They want a billion. Please, you have to help me.” He chuckled, low and sharp. “You called me because you’re desperate. I can hear it in your voice, Odette. Not pleading, not negotiating… just desperate.” His tone was calm, cold. “I’m in New York. Expanding. I own more than you can imagine. A hundred corporations. Assets that could feed nations. Why would I help the woman who left me for gold? The woman who chose her own comfort over us?” The memory hit me like a fist. Eight years ago, before the white roses, before the contract, before I sold myself into a marriage with Gillian, we had believed in something real. Something reckless. Something true. We had loved like fools, like people who thought forever was easy. I remembered the rain, iron in the air, his calloused hands pressed against mine like we could remake the world together. I remembered the night my father’s men dragged him into the alley, beat him until his words were shattered stones, and he begged me not to marry Gillian. But my father had warned me if I refused, he wouldn’t stop at him. He would kill him. His mother. His sister. I remembered the promise ring in my palm, warm from his body. He grabbed my feet, begged me to run with him. I had wanted to. I wanted it more than air. But I knew my father too well. I chose safety instead. I told him he was poor, that he could never give me the future I deserved. I told him he smelled of mud and debt. And I threw the ring into the dirt. He picked it up, tears on his face, and whispered one word that still haunts me: why. Then I walked away. “Do you remember that night?” Aamon’s voice sliced through me, thin and controlled. “You left me in the rain, Odette. You chose comfort over us. You made a life that feeds you but eats at you from the inside. You made your bed, and now you lie in it.” “I know,” I whispered. I wanted to tell him a thousand little things... that I had been wrong, that I had regretted it every single night, that I had tried to atone in small ways... but there were no words strong enough. There was only the sound of my daughter screaming in that video, the knowledge that Gillian didn’t care, that he would let her suffer to remind me of my place. “Tell me everything,” Aamon said finally, sharper now, like the air itself had teeth. “Fast. Don’t leave out a single thing. Don’t lie.” I poured it all out. The frozen account. The ransom deadline. Every little detail. Every trembling hand, every second that had stolen my breath. Every humiliating, desperate move I had made to save her. It spilled from me like blood, offered like a bribe, like a prayer I didn’t even believe would be answered. There was this cold silence on the line that stretched so long I thought my voice would shatter. “You expect me to cross continents because your husband’s a monster and your past choices came back to bite you? Why would I do that, Odette? What’s in it for me, saving a kid who’s just living in a gilded cage?” I closed my eyes and saw him on the pier, in my memory—Aamon, hands rough on my face, the city behind us like it promised something real. “My plea… that should be enough,” I whispered. “It’s not enough,” he said flatly. “You broke me. You sold me out to be safe. If I save her, what do I get from the woman who chose her own coffin? How do you pay me?” My mouth went dry. He was the kind of dangerous you didn’t speak around. Just his name made men flip alliances. He had a reputation for taking what was his and carving it out of other people’s lives. He could move continents with a phone call, bend cops like paper clips, make nightmares feel like law. “Me,” I said. “You can have me. I’ll pay with my body. Use me, hurt me, make me your slave or your maid. Make me do whatever you want. Just… just save Zenith.” I heard him breathe, soft, like someone opening a book. For a second I thought he’d laugh, hang up. But he didn’t. He said, calm and cold, “Consider it done. After I save Zenith, you belong to me. Body, soul, everything you denied me before.” Tears burned my cheeks. I hadn’t thought I was capable of bargaining like this, of giving myself up to save the life tied to my blood. But the clarity was brutal, undeniable. I had chosen safety once and paid for it with my heart. I could choose differently now. “I agree. Do it. Please, Aamon. Please bring her back.” “Good,” he said. “Don’t call me again unless you intend to honor this bargain.” The line went dead. --- They dragged me out eight hours later. One of Gillian’s men shoved me toward the car. “Boss said go home. Start cooking right away,” he said flatly. Cook? Huh! As if I hadn’t been locked in a storage room while my daughter screamed in a video, every second of it stabbing my chest. Then my phone buzzed. Aamon. He sent the location, the hospital, and the room number. My legs moved before my brain even had a chance to catch up. “Miss Odette! Where are you going?!"

I ran through the rain, through the cars, the city slapping itself against my face. Horns blared. My hair plastered to my skin. My clothes stuck to me, soaked with sweat and rain. When I finally reached the hospital room, I pushed the door open. There she was. Zenith. My little girl, curled small in the bed. Her hands wrapped in thick bandages. She looked like my daughter, the one who used to giggle at piano keys, and at the same time she looked like a stranger, someone carved out of pain. I collapsed beside her. My tears soaked into her hair. “Zenith,” I whispered, over and over. “Mama’s here. Mama’s here, baby.” Everything inside me, all the pieces that had hardened into stone, melted against her skin. The door creaked and a doctor came in. “Your daughter’s hands… severe damage. We did everything we could. Surgery, therapy… there’s hope. She could regain function.” “C-can she still play piano? Piano… she loved piano.” “Maybe someday. But not soon.” I nodded and pressed my hand over my mouth, crying silently. All the piano recitals we’d circled on the calendar, all the little dreams… burned in my mind. Bright little futures, now twisted into something cruel and uncertain. The door opened again, not gently this time. A man walked in, tall, smiling like he knew exactly how dangerous he was, two hulking men shadowing him. “Odette,” he said like we were meeting for coffee, old friends. “I’m Johnny. Johnny Wattson. Aamon sent me.” The doctor practically bolted out the room. Johnny leaned on the bed rail. “Aamon took care of the kidnappers. Want to see their bodies?” My stomach turned. “No,” I whispered. “I don’t want to see anything.” He chuckled, like I’d given him a private joke. “Too bad. Quite the art, really. Aamon had them killed, dismembered. They won’t bother you again.” He tilted his head, watching me like a cat watching a bird. “Want to know who hired them?” Zenith stirred, a soft whimper escaping her lips. I hugged her tighter, pressed her face to my chest, refused to meet Johnny's eyes. “I don’t want to know. I just want her safe.” Johnny's smile sharpened. “As you wish. Aamon’s coming to Europe. One week. Sign your divorce papers. After that… he’ll collect you himself.” My throat shook. “Thank you,” I whispered, because gratitude was all I had left. Johnny's eyes glimmered with amusement as he leaned closer. “Don’t thank me, little dove. Aamon won’t take thanks. He’ll take you. Body, soul. That’s the only payment he wants.” He straightened, winked like this was some kind of game, and left, his men trailing behind like shadows. ... The room felt smaller when they were gone. Darker. Zenith shifted in my arms, crying now. I held her tighter, rocked her, whispered to her, and the night pressed in around us, walls closing in. I didn’t notice the hours passing and must have fallen asleep because my phone buzzed in the dark. Zenith’s tiny, bandaged hands rested on my chest. For a second I thought I was still dreaming. Then the screen flashed. Gillian. My thumb shook as I answered. His voice ripped through the line like fire. “Where the hell are you?! Why aren’t you home? You think you can run off and embarrass me? Disappear like this?” I stared at Zenith’s fragile face, her lashes brushing her cheeks, her little body too small under the white sheets. I didn’t say a word. I ended the call and powered the phone off. The silence was heavy, but it felt like a tiny act of rebellion. For once, I chose quiet over his rage. By sunrise, my body ached from the narrow hospital bed, my clothes stiff with dried rain and sweat. I smelled of fear and sterile walls. Zenith stirred, and I smoothed her hair, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. “Mama’s right here. I’ll get us clean clothes, okay? Then I’ll make sure I look pretty again for you.” I stepped into the hallway, and the world spun around me. Medics rushed past, wheels squealing, pushing a gurney. On it lay Gibeah—pale, clutching her stomach, her cries sharp and desperate. Jenniva clung to her side, her voice shrill as she screamed at the doctors. Gillian stormed behind them, face twisted with panic, barking orders like a storm. His eyes found me. He tore away from the gurney and grabbed my arm so hard I thought he’d snap it. “Odette!” His hand swung before I could even breathe. The slap burned across my cheek, hot and blinding. “How dare you,” he growled, digging his fingers into my flesh. “You ordered someone to poison Gibeah last night! You really thought you could kill my daughter and get away with it? You pathetic little bitch.” My face burned. My chest burned worse. I swallowed the scream clawing up my throat. No words came out because it wouldn’t matter. Gillian had already chosen his truth. He would never believe me. Gibeah groaned, weak and frightened. “Daddy… Daddy!” Gillian tore himself away from me, running after the gurney, chasing the girl he worshipped. His parting words sliced through me. “We’ll talk after this.” Jenniva brushed past, her perfume thick and sickly sweet, choking the air. Her lips curved into the faintest, smug smile. Calm. That was all I needed to know. She had orchestrated this. Poisoned Gibeah and pinned it on me. I bit down hard and swallowed the sob rising in my chest. I kept walking, stiff, refusing to crumble in front of her. I bought clean clothes from a shop down the street, my hands shaking as I folded them into a bag. Then I came back, focused only on getting to Zenith. At the elevator, I pressed the button, willing it to open. The doors slid apart with a soft chime. Relief rushed through me—until someone stepped in my way. Jenniva. She leaned against the doorway, her perfume thick and sickly sweet, like poison. “How’s your little Zenith? Dead yet?” She tilted her head, voice mocking. “I had those thugs smash her tiny fingers. So my daughter could take the spotlight at the piano contest. And when they were done, I told them to dump your little girl’s body on the street like trash.” “How dare you!” The words tore out of me before I even realized, my palm already slamming against Jenniva’s painted cheek. Slap!

“Oh my! She— she slapped me!” She shrieked, stumbling back like I had snapped her in half, clutching her face, wailing like some porcelain doll someone had dropped. Her act was flawless, practiced to the bone. Gasps spread through the crowd. Whispers cut like knives. “Did you see that?” “Poor Jenniva.” “Odette’s lost it.” “Isn’t that Mr. Gillian’s wife? Why is she hitting Miss Jenniva?” I could feel every eye on me, burning into my skin, but I didn’t care anymore. “You think I don’t see you?” I shouted, voice hoarse, trembling with years of swallowed pain. “You snuck into my life, whispered poison into Gillian’s ears, made him turn his back on me. You ruined my family and now… you tried to hurt Zenith!” My throat burned as the words tore out. “You think your tears hide your venom, but I know exactly who you are. A scheming, manipulative snake!” Jenniva shook her head, sobbing harder, like some wronged saint. The crowd softened to her, but I knew better. Then Gillian’s voice thundered behind me. “Odette!” I turned just in time to see his hand rise. The slap hit me fast, brutal, knocking me down. He loomed over me. “After hurting my daughter, you dare lay your filthy hands on my first love? If it weren’t for that cursed arranged marriage, Jenniva would have been my wife!” The crowd gasped again, whispers twisting the knife deeper. “She’s unstable.” “No wonder Mr. Gillian never loved her.” “I heard Zenith isn’t even his. She cheated.” Jenniva’s soft sobs made her look fragile, innocent, precious. And I was the monster. Always the monster. Tears blurred my vision, but I forced the words out. “Then divorce me! I’m done with this farce. I don’t want to be your wife anymore!” Gillian laughed, cold and sharp. “What a desperate psycho you are. First, you fake a kidnapping just to get my attention. And now you throw another pathetic scene? You should win an award for acting, Odette.” He pulled papers from his jacket and tossed them at me like trash. They scattered at my feet. “Here. Isn’t this what you want?” I bent down, hands trembling, to pick them up. But before I could, he leaned down too, snatching them back with a cruel smirk. “Did you really think I’d make it that easy?” His voice dripped venom. “You’ll serve me for another week before I sign this. Until then, you’re mine.” He waved the papers like a leash I couldn’t escape, then turned, wrapping his arm around Jenniva’s shoulders, leading her away like she was his treasure and I was just dirt beneath his shoes. The crowd’s eyes stayed on me, disgusted, condemning. My hands shook as I forced myself to stand, legs weak, heart crushed under their judgment. ... I walked down the hall, dragging my body, until I reached Zenith’s room. I closed the door, pressed my forehead to the wood, shaking and crying so hard my chest ached. Through my sobs, I whispered a promise that tasted like blood. “Well then, Gillian… by a week, I’m no longer tied to you.” After three days in the hospital, I finally brought Zenith home. She was still pale, still weak, but at least she was alive. If it were up to me, I’d never set foot in that house again. But I had no choice. I needed my mother’s heirloom, some of Zenith’s things, and a few of my own. I pushed the door open, and my breath caught. Jenniva. She was standing in the middle of the living room like she owned the place, Gibeah sprawled on the couch, laughing like he had every right to be there. Zenith’s tiny voice trembled next to me. “Mama… why is Gibeah here?” Before I could answer, Gibeah looked up, smug, a little grin spreading across her face. “Because this is my house now. I’m the real daughter. You’re just… nothing.” Zenith flinched, her hand clutching mine. Heat rose in my chest, and I wanted to rip that arrogance right out of her. But Jenniva’s lips curled, voice smooth as poison. “Gibeah, go to your room.” She grinned, satisfied, and marched up the stairs like a little princess. The maids passed by, eyes flicking away from me. Whispers cut through the air like knives. “Mr. Gillian ordered everything moved… Madam Odette’s things are in the maid’s quarters now.” I swallowed hard, forcing the tears back. Jenniva pressed a hand to her chest, pretending embarrassment. “Oh, Odette… Gillian said I should stay here with Gibeah. He’s tired of hiding our relationship. I didn’t know they’d move your things. Please don’t misunderstand me.” Her voice was honey, but her eyes were laughing. I bit down on my rage for Zenith’s sake. I took her hand and walked to the maid’s quarters. Inside the tiny room, Zenith finally broke, tears soaking my sleeve. “Mama, why is Papa treating us like we don’t exist?” I held her tight, rocking her against my chest. “Don’t cry, baby. One day soon, we’ll leave this place. And you’ll never have to bow your head to anyone again.” ... That night, the villa was alive with lights and music spilling from the dining hall. A dinner for Gillian’s business partners. I was forced to sit far down the table, like a guest who wasn’t welcome in her own home. Jenniva sat at Gillian’s side, her hand brushing his arm like she already owned him. She smiled sweetly, gently, and the men at the table stared, admiring her like she was some kind of goddess. One of them glanced at me. “And… who is she?”

Gillian smirked, swirling his glass like he owned the air in the room. “She’s just here for appearances. My real woman has always been Jenniva. And this girl, Gibeah, she’s my true heir.” Gibeah stood, chest puffed, walking to the piano like she owned the house. Her fingers flew over the keys, sharp and precise, filling the room with perfect notes. Everyone clapped, admiration dripping from their eyes. Beside me, Zenith’s little face twisted in tears, staring down at her ruined hands. Her tiny fingers trembled like they remembered the pain over and over. I felt sick, my chest aching. How had it come to this? How had Gillian let this happen? Jenniva tilted her head, voice smooth as honey but dripping venom. “Poor little Zenith. Can’t play the piano now? What a shame. Your mama let this happen—” I slammed my fork to the plate, heart hammering. “Don’t you dare poison her mind! It was you! You hired those thugs to crush her fingers just so your daughter could steal the spotlight!” Gasps rippled around the table. Jenniva’s lips trembled, tears falling, as she clutched at Gillian. “Odette… why are you attacking me in front of everyone? What did I ever do to you?” Her voice was fragile, broken, but I knew it was all an act. Gillian’s chair screeched as he rose, eyes blazing. “How dare you shame Jenniva in front of my partners!” His roar made the chandelier shake. Before I could even think, his hand tangled in my hair and yanked me hard. Pain flared across my scalp as he dragged me down to my knees on the cold marble. Zenith cried out, tiny voice sharp and desperate. “Papa! Don’t hurt Mama!” Gillian snapped his head toward her, voice low and cruel. “Shut up, girl. If you don’t stop crying, I’ll feed you to the snakes.” I froze. Zenith’s face went pale, her little body shaking against me. She had always been terrified of snakes. Gibeah—Jenniva’s daughter—had shoved a python in her schoolbag once. I remembered the blood, the screams, and how Gillian had just shrugged. Never protected her. Never. Now Zenith pressed herself to me, trembling so hard it broke something inside me. Around us, the business partners shifted, uncomfortable at first, then one chuckled. Another joined in, and soon the whole table was laughing, tossing cruel words like knives. “The jealous wife doesn’t know her place.” “Gillian, train her better.” Jenniva stayed close to him, hand on his sleeve, her voice soft and trembling like a fragile flower. “Please… don’t hurt her too much. It’s my fault. She’s just jealous.” Her fake mercy only poured fuel on his rage. His hand cracked across my cheek again, fire burning through me, ears ringing. “Apologize to Jenniva. Now!” I shook my head, lips quivering. “I… I didn’t—” “Do it, Odette!” he thundered. “Or Zenith loses everything. No more doctors. No school. No food. Let her rot with you in the streets.” I froze, looking at Zenith shaking beside me. Her little hands clutching at mine. My heart ached. For her… only for her… I lowered myself fully to the floor. Tears slid down my cheeks as I whispered, voice barely there, “I’m sorry, Jenniva.” The men laughed, clinking glasses. “At least she knows her place,” one smirked. Jenniva wiped her fake tears and walked over, smiling like I was a stray dog. Patting my head, sweet and cruel. “It’s okay. Odette’s just jealous. I forgive her.” The men praised her like she was some saint, their words slicing into me. Is this my life now? Always humiliated, always broken? I wondered, hating myself for bending. Zenith’s small voice cut through the noise, trembling but fierce. “Don’t talk to my mama like that! She’s not jealous!” Gillian’s face darkened, black with fury. He snapped his fingers. “Take that girl out of here before she embarrasses me further.” The maids hesitated, then carefully took Zenith from my arms. She screamed, claws digging into me, but they pulled her away while I stayed on the floor, shaking, my heart feeling like it was tearing in half. Gillian raised his glass, smug. “This is why women need discipline.” The men laughed. One leaned back, sneering. “Lock her in the basement until she learns some manners.” Gillian smirked. “Maybe I should.” I stayed silent, trembling, swallowing down every scream. If I said anything, it would only make it worse. When the guests finally left, the villa grew quiet. My cheek still burned, my hair still tangled from his grip. I walked down the hallway and there she was, snake whore Jenniva cornering me, her perfume choking the air. She leaned in, whisper sharp as a knife. “Did you see how they all laughed at you? Even Gillian doesn’t see you as a wife anymore. Soon, you’ll be nothing but a maid. Or maybe he’ll throw you and your daughter out into the streets.” Her eyes glittered, a cruel smile on her face. “Gibeah will replace Zenith in everything. Music. Legacy. Even love.” I couldn’t speak. My throat burned, my heart felt shredded. ... That night, back in the tiny maid’s quarters, I lay beside Zenith. Her breathing was uneven, little fists still clenched even in sleep. I pressed my hand over my mouth and cried quietly, choking on every sob. But somewhere deep inside, something stirred. A tiny spark of fire. Gillian would never protect us. Jenniva would never stop until Zenith was broken. In the dark, I whispered to myself, voice shaking but determined. “One day… I’ll make them pay for everything.” Then my phone lit up on the table. The name flashed across the screen. Aamon Rutherford. “Hello?” His voice was low, cold, steady like steel. “Seven days are almost up, Odette. Get ready. I’m coming to Europe to collect what’s mine.” Before I could even catch a breath, the line went dead. I sat there, trembling, Aamon’s voice still echoing in my head like a storm. My chest ached, but for the first time in forever, I felt something like relief. Dangerous as he was, Aamon had saved Zenith when no one else moved. I wiped my tears and whispered into the quiet, “Whatever you are… you’re the only one who actually came for us.” For the first time, the smile on my face wasn’t cracked. It was sharp, cold, dangerous. ... The villa was dead quiet. Everyone was asleep. I crept up the stairs, each step heavy, my heart pounding so loud I thought it would wake them. When I reached the master bedroom, I froze. The door was slightly open, and through the slit I saw them. Jenniva on top of Gillian, laughing. Their bodies tangled, their faces glowing with something that made my stomach twist in knives. Any love I had left for him died right then, watching him touch her like I didn’t exist. Jenniva’s voice cut through the room. “When are you going to divorce her, Gillian? I’m tired of being the mistress.”

His laugh was cruel. “I’ve already signed the papers. But I won’t give them to her yet. I want her to serve you first. I want her to pay for humiliating you.” Jenniva giggled, venom dripping from every note. “You mean… as my maid? I’d love that. But what if she finds the papers?” Gillian groaned, pulling her down. “She won’t. Forget her. Now shut up and please me.” I couldn’t watch another second. I turned away, bile rising, tears burning. My body shook with rage and disgust. Hours passed. Finally, the villa went quiet, the sound of their snores filling the halls. I slipped inside, careful not to wake them. First, I checked the bedside drawer. Empty. My heart slammed against my ribs. I knew Gillian better than anyone—he’d hide them in his study. I crept through the villa, silent as a ghost. In the study, the vault loomed. My fingers hovered, then typed the code I still remembered. Click. The lock opened, and my breath caught. Inside were stacks of files and jewels. And there, folded neatly, the papers. My divorce papers. My hands shook as I pulled them out. My eyes blurred with tears. Every stroke of my signature trembled. “No more chains,” I whispered. Tears fell, smearing the ink. I grabbed my phone and dialed. The ring seemed endless until it clicked. “The papers are signed…” Aamon’s voice was calm, deadly, ice in my veins. “Good. I’ll send my lawyer. Don’t let anyone know, Odette.” The line went dead again, but his voice lingered in my head, a blade pressed to my throat. Within the hour, I slipped out of the villa into the rain. Streets slick, empty, the night hiding me like a cloak. My breath puffed white in the cold. Every shadow felt alive. Every sound made my heart leap. I found him where he said. His lawyer waited in a dark car outside a café, tall and composed, bowing slightly like I was someone worth respect. I handed over the papers, hands shaking so badly I thought I’d drop them. My chest hammered, my soul on fire. He took them carefully. “From now on, Odette, no one can chain you again.” My eyes filled with tears, but this time they weren’t sorrow. They tasted like freedom. Two days stuck in Gillian Washington’s villa felt like I was slowly being buried alive. The place was huge, bright, perfect for anyone else but for me, it was a cage. Gillian didn’t see me. Gibeah and Jenniva wandered around like little devils, whispering, laughing, making sure I couldn’t breathe. At night, Zenith would wake crying, tiny sobs breaking out of her. Her bandaged hands trembled in mine, and I stayed up, pressing my lips to her hair, whispering the same thing over and over: it would pass, we’d be okay. Sje’d look up at me with those glassy eyes and ask, “Why doesn’t father come?” I tried to dodge it, but she was too smart. One night, in the dark, he whispered, “Mama… I wish I had a new father. I wish I wasn’t his daughter.” I broke right there, but I hid it. I kissed her forehead and told her to rest. My tears soaked into her hair while I smiled, pretending I was strong. Jenniva never missed a chance to turn me into the villain. ... The first time, she threw herself into the pool, screaming. By the time Gillian ran over, she pointed at me, sobbing that I pushed her. Gillian didn’t even ask. His hand smacked across my face in front of the staff. I stood there dripping with shame while Jenniva clung to him, fake coughing. The second time, she sprinkled tiny glass shards on her own plate, then screamed I tried to poison her. Gillian’s eyes burned into me. He threw my food to the ground and told me I wasn’t allowed to eat at the table. I cleaned the mess like a servant, stomach growling, while Jenniva smiled at him like an angel. The third time, she twisted her wrist until it bruised purple, then ran to Gillian crying that I hurt her. He didn’t ask anything. He grabbed me by the hair, slammed me to the floor, and warned me never to touch her again. Zenith cried behind me, but Gillian ignored her too. The fourth time, she hid her bracelet under my pillow, then gasped and pulled it out in front of everyone. Gillian looked at me like I was dirt. “Thief,” he spat. The maids looked away, pitying me, while Jenniva smirked. He called me a terrible mother right in front of Zenith. My girl clenched her tiny fists, and my heart shattered. Gillian stayed cold, busy planning Gibeah’s seventh birthday party at some luxury hotel. He praised Gibeah every second, so patient, so kind, while ignoring Zenith’s pain, my existence. I wanted to call Father, but I knew he wouldn’t believe me. Gillian had already bought him with shares, with promises. So I stayed quiet, holding Zenith’s trembling hands. I whispered, “We just have to survive. Aamon will come. Just a little longer.” Zenith, pale and sweaty, whispered back, “Mama… I don’t want to be his daughter anymore. Let’s leave. I hate them for hurting you. I hate him for choosing Gio.” I stroked her hair, chest breaking into pieces, and promised her a new beginning. Even if I didn’t know how, I promised. The night of Gio’s party, Gillian left with Jenniva and Gibeah, their laughter echoing through the halls while Zenith and I stayed behind in the villa. Then Johnny appeared at the door. “Aamon is waiting,” he said. I followed him. He drove us through the wet night roads, rain sliding down the windows, until we reached the private airport. My heart wouldn’t slow down. Then my phone rang. Gillian. His voice came through sharp and annoyed. “Where the hell are you, Odette? Get here. Gibeah’s banquet is starting. I want you serving the guests. And don’t bring Zenith. She’ll just ruin the mood.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Then Jenniva’s voice slipped in, sweet and toxic. “Come on, Odette. You’ll miss all the fun. And thank you, babe, for giving our little girl the best birthday ever.” My throat closed up. My hand shook, but I held the phone tighter. Gillian laughed softly. “Anything for you, babe. And for Gibeah—” “Happy divorce, Gillian. Go to hell, you bastard.” I hung up before he could answer and threw the phone out into the rain. It smashed against the wet ground, the screen flashing once before going dark. The silence inside the car felt heavy. Then Johnny gave a low whistle, grinning. “Well, look at that. You’ve got claws after all. Aamon’s going to like this version of you.” My chest rose and fell too fast. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Zenith’s small body was warm against me, and I held her tighter, turning away from Johnny’s stare. The car slowed, tires crunching on the private runway. Ahead, a jet waited under bright lights, cold and sharp in the rain. My legs felt numb when Johnny opened the door. “Time to meet the man who’s been waiting,” he said, still smiling. I clutched Zenith and forced myself up the steps. The air smelled like metal and fuel. My knees almost gave out when I stepped inside. He was there. Aamon. He looked even sharper than I remembered. Colder. More dangerous. Dark suit, darker eyes. Like he was carved out of ice. He didn’t move. Just watched me. “Aamon…” My voice broke. The corner of his mouth shifted, not quite a smile. His voice was low, calm, and hard. “You’re finally here.” … GILLIAN'S POV Jenniva leaned close, her perfume thick and sweet, wrapping around me like silk. Her voice was soft, almost teasing. “Don’t blow your top, Gillian. Odette’s just jealous. You know how she gets. If you get mad, she wins. Let her stew in her corner while I stay by your side.” I smirked, brushing my thumb across her wrist where Gibeah couldn’t see. “You always know how to calm me down. She’s nothing. Look at us. Look at Gibeah. This is the real family.” Her lashes lowered, her smile like honey. “Exactly, babe. Everyone can see it. Odette can scream and sulk all she wants, but she’s powerless. Tonight is ours.” And she was right. By the time we pulled into the villa, my chest swelled. Untouchable. My enemies feared me, my partners envied me, my woman worshipped me, and my son carried my name like a crown. The second we stepped inside, I barked, “Coffee. Now.” The maids froze. I clicked my tongue. “Where the hell is Odette? Tell her to come down. I don’t care if it’s midnight.” One maid finally shuffled forward, bowing so low her voice shook. “Mrs. Washington… she’s gone, sir. Took young miss Zenith with her.”