"Promises, promises," he said smoothly.
"This is kidnap," Chayara muttered.
"Oh my God," Guy gasped in mock horror. "I am a terrible person. Kidnapping you to go have so fun. How callous of ?"
His sarcasm was layered with just enough charm to make her lips twitch against her will. He walked toward the parked car, one arm still wrapped around her knees while she bounced awkwardly in his grasp.
He plopped her into the seat, buckled her in before she could wiggle away, and shut the door with a triumphant grin.
By the ti he got into the driver’s seat, Chayara had composed herself—sort of. She pulled the seatbelt tighter and adjusted her top, still slightly scandalized by how casually he manhandled her, and secretly a bit flattered by it too.
"There’s no need to be so sarcastic," she mumbled.
Guy cast her a sideways glance as he started the car.
She narrowed her eyes. "How many friends are we eting with?"
"Six," he said simply, pulling into the flow of traffic as the city lights cast a golden glow across the windshield.
*****
Nita Nuro sat cross-legged in the drawing room of the family’s grand estate, a regal figure clad in a tailored wrap and bejeweled slippers.
Victor had already endured one of her legendary lectures, followed by a very specific threat involving decapitation. The mont she heard about Drake’s abrupt withdrawal from the building purchase, her instincts scread that sothing was off.
Monts later, the double doors swung open, and Queen strutted in.
"Mum?" Queen said. "Is everything alright? You sounded urgent on the phone."
She dropped into a couch opposite her mother, legs crossed, bag tossed on the side table.
"You know I don’t like surprises," Nita said slowly.
"Okay?"
"I got a ssage that a client pulled out of buying a house and that refunds have to be made," Nita said. "You know how I hate doing refunds."
Queen let out a slow breath and adjusted her posture in the armchair.
Queen already knew where the conversation was going. She was bracing herself. "Mum..." she said, trying for patience.
"Colour surprised," Nita continued, folding her hands with elegance as her voice sharpened, "when I found out it was my own son-in-law. That’s not the worst part—oh no. Victor then tells your first act as a married woman was to lie to your husband."
"Mum, please—" Queen began, but her mother wasn’t finished.
"I know I have stayed out of this arrangent with Drake," Nita steamrolled on, rising from her seat and beginning to pace. "I have kept my opinion to myself. I thought, surely, my daughter is an adult. A brilliant, capable woman. But really?" She turned to face Queen with a brow that could cut glass. "What were you thinking?"
"What arrangent?" she asked, but it was a pointless question. Her mother knew. Of course she knew.
"I know, Queen. I know that Drake asked to marry you because he wanted to keep you from marrying a man who—frankly—was no good whatsoever. I know he stepped in when you were spiraling. I know about your little agreent to annul the marriage as soon as you take over the company from your father."
Queen stared at her mother, emotions flickering across her face.
"How did you know?" Queen asked, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits.
"That’s not the point," Nita said. She sat back down and gave Queen a look that could straighten out steel.
Queen scoffed. "Chayara told you, didn’t she? The girl really doesn’t know how to keep her mouth closed."
"Don’t deflect." Nita’s voice sharpened. "I will co back to what the hell is going on between you and your cousin—and believe , I have questions—but for now, back to the matter. You will go to your husband. You will apologise and fix things."
Queen’s brows lifted, offended and disbelieving. "Excuse ?"
"I said what I said," Nita replied firmly, not missing a beat. "If you want to carry on this charade successfully, both of you need to be in step. One cannot do it without the other."
"I thought we had dropped the charade actually," Queen said. "But turns out, I was wrong."
Nita’s gaze narrowed, a flicker of curiosity peeking through the stern expression. "You wanted to stay married?"
"That’s what I assud," Queen muttered, almost to herself, her eyes drifting to a spot on the far wall where a painting of their grandmother hung.
Nita exhaled slowly. "Okay, Queen," she said, her voice now motherly instead of managerial. "I am your mother. I will always love you. But whatever is going wrong between you and Drake, it is your fault."
Queen opened her mouth to argue, but Nita raised a hand.
"No. Scratch that. It’s your father’s fault."
"Wait, what?"
"Yes. Your father raised you to believe that every relationship is a negotiation. That feelings can be drafted, reviewed, and signed off on. That compromise is weakness, and that control is everything."
Queen sank into the couch.
"You do not handle personal relationships the sa way you handle business relationships. He should have taught you that. You can’t spreadsheet your way into a man’s heart," Nita continued. "You cannot be the boss at work and at ho. You need to work with him as a partner, not try to dominate him like a hostile acquisition."
Queen stayed silent, her jaw clenched, her emotions tangled.
"Everyone always assus I am the emotional screw-up," Queen said, her voice tight with the frustration she had swallowed for too long. She rose from her seat. "Have you thought about the fact that just this once... it’s not ?"
"Not if you won’t talk to . Not if you think you can handle everything by yourself," she said, her tone still composed but laced with genuine concern.
"I cannot talk to you about this!" Queen shouted suddenly, voice cracking against the manicured calm of the room. Her fists clenched as the floodgates she had desperately tried to hold shut finally burst open. "Because even if I do, you still won’t take my side. You never do. You always take her side."
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