'Jasmine Darling!' Rose called out as Jasmine walked in
'Oh hi, Gammy!' Jasmine answered off guard
'where in the world have you been sweety?' Rose asked. 'You have been gone for the whole weekend no calls nothing.' Rose continued
'So sorry Gammy.' Jasmine said putting herself together
'There was so much work back in the office I turned my phone off because I wanted to concentrate and get the work finished at least during the weekend. I am so sorry.' Jasmine said apologetically
'Oh sweety that's okay. I was just really worried about you since we didn't see you all through the weekend. I am just glad you are fine.' Jasmine took Rose's hands.
'Oh thanks Gammy for worrying about me. I'll just go freshen up and come downstairs to eat. I haven't had a decent meal since Friday.' Rose smiled kindly at her as she started making her way up the stairs she stopped turning around
'Is Rhys and Lia back yet?' That question was directed at Nancy
'Yes Ma'am but neither of them are home currently.' Nancy said those last words with hidden meanings. Her confidence faltered for a bit there but it disappeared as soon as it appeared.
'I'll go take a shower… and Nancy, could you bring me some body soap? I think I ran out before I left.'
'Yes ma'am' Nancy said quickly running into the storage. Rose sat on the couch in the living room with a small devilish smile on her lips as she switched through the TV channels while watching the stairs. Nancy bolted out of the kitchen storage running up the stairs to her mistresses room. Rose shook her head while laughing.
***************************************************************************
"Madam, where have you been? I couldn't reach you at all!"
Jasmine barely had time to react before Nancy grabbed her arm and yanked her deeper into the room. She quickly glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping, then lowered her voice to a whisper.
"Jasmine, what the hell is going on?"
Nancy huffed, her frustration barely contained. "This Lia girl—she's tougher than we thought. A lot tougher. Somehow, she's managed to worm her way into Ms. Rose's good graces."
Jasmine's brows shot up in shock. "What? How?"
"No idea, Madam. But you were away too long, and in that time, she found a way to charm her." Nancy crossed her arms, scowling. "You should've seen them this morning. Ms. Rose was doting on her like she was already her daughter-in-law."
Jasmine's jaw clenched, her nails digging into her palm. That wasn't possible. She had spent months making sure Rose disliked Lia—sowing doubt, whispering little manipulations into her ear. Yet somehow, the girl had turned things around in such short time?
Nancy continued, her voice dripping with irritation. "Madam, if you don't do something fast, that Little girl will take your place. You need to get Ms. Rose back on track and kick Lia out before it's too late."
Jasmine's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.
"Oh, she dares not," she murmured, her tone laced with amusement.
Nancy stiffened. That smile—it sent a shiver down her spine. Jasmine didn't look worried. If anything, she looked excited.
Jasmine turned away, picking up a bar of soap, humming a light tune as she made her way to the bathroom.
Nancy watched her go, unease settling in her stomach. Whatever Jasmine was planning, it wouldn't end well for Lia.
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"Tim! What's the situation?" Donna snapped, her fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest of her wheelchair. She hated being out of the loop. For months, she had orchestrated every move—manipulating, bribing, and eliminating obstacles—to get rid of Rhys. Yet, every attempt had failed. Either her pawns turned up dead or they simply couldn't track him down.
And that was unacceptable.
Tim swallowed hard before bowing slightly. "Apologies, Donna… still nothing."
Donna's eyes darkened, her lips twisting into a sneer. "Useless bunch," she spat, but then, as if amused by her own predicament, her expression morphed into something more sinister. "Still… this is getting quite interesting."
A sudden knock at the door interrupted the moment.
Tim stiffened, then quickly moved to answer it. One of Donna's men leaned in, whispering something in his ear. Tim nodded sharply before turning back to her. "Donna, you have an important visitor."
Donna didn't even glance his way, merely waving a dismissive hand. "Bring them in."
Tim turned on his heel and motioned for the men outside to allow the visitor through. As the woman stepped inside, his stomach twisted. Her again.
She wore a mask, just like the last time. Tim recognized her immediately—how could he forget? Every time this woman showed up, Donna would send him away. No explanations. No discussions. Just secrecy.
The woman moved with eerie grace, her presence somehow making the room feel colder.
Donna finally spoke, still facing away, pushing herself slightly forward in her wheelchair. "Tim, step away from the door. Make sure no one comes near."
Tim hesitated for just a fraction of a second before bowing. "Yes, Donna."
He turned and exited, passing the instructions along to the guards. The moment the door shut behind him, he exhaled.
He had been in this game long enough to know when something was off. And this?
This was something Donna didn't want anyone knowing about.
And that only made him more curious.
"What do you have for me?" Donna's voice was smooth but sharp, like a blade hidden beneath silk.
The masked woman scoffed, tilting her head. "Really? That's not how this works. I gave you information, and in return, you made promises—ones you haven't kept." Her tone dripped with impatience. "I'm done handing out favours. No more freebies. Keep your end of the deal, or this conversation is over."
Donna chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, darling… there's just a small hitch in the way."
The woman folded her arms. "Nothing's ever too hard for you, Donna. You know what I want. Deliver it, and I'll hand over everything you need."
Donna's expression darkened. She slowly turned her wheelchair to face the woman, her voice laced with warning. "Careful now. Have you forgotten whose territory you're standing in?"
For a moment, silence thickened the air between them. Then, with an eerie calm, the woman reached out and gripped the arms of Donna's chair, spinning it around forcefully until they were face-to-face.
A smirk ghosted her lips as she leaned in. "I think we're past that now, Mom."
The woman's eyes burned with something raw and untamed. "If you really value what you're after, you'll listen to me this time. I'm done being patient. I'm done giving while you keep taking. So let's keep this simple—give me what I want, and you'll get what you want."
Donna remained silent, studying her daughter's face with unnerving amusement.
"At this point," the woman continued, her voice unwavering, "I don't even care if I die here and now. At least in death, I'll finally be free of you." She scoffed, shaking her head. "I won't argue. Either meet my demand or forget about yours."
Donna's smirk widened. She rolled her chair forward, closing the space between them, watching as her daughter unconsciously stepped back.
"Tsk, tsk… I brought you into this world, baby girl," Donna whispered, her voice a mockery of affection as she reached up and traced the woman's jaw with cold fingers. "And you know… I do want you to have your freedom."
Then, in a lightning-fast motion, she fisted the woman's hair and yanked her down to her level.
The younger woman gritted her teeth, a groan of pain escaping her throat.
Donna's smile never wavered as her voice turned into something dark, something monstrous. "But you're gravely mistaken if you think you have the right to negotiate with me."
Before her daughter could react, Donna pulled a gun from under her shawl and pressed it to her thigh.
The shot rang out before the scream.
Blood splattered across the pristine floor as the woman collapsed, her breath hitching, her hands instinctively gripping her leg as crimson pooled beneath her.
But Donna didn't let go. She twisted her daughter's hair tighter, forcing her to look up despite the pain. "Now, go get me what I asked for before I put you in a body bag."
She finally released her, letting her crumple fully onto the floor.
"TIM!"
Tim rushed in, his expression unreadable despite the scene before him. He had seen Donna do worse, but still, something about the glee in her eyes made his stomach tighten.
She extended the gun toward him without looking. "Clean that up."
Tim took the weapon without hesitation. He knew better than to hesitate.
Donna wheeled herself toward the door, rolling as if nothing had happened. Then, just before leaving, she paused.
Without turning around, she spoke, her voice low, final.
" And Jasmine, I gave you liberty, and you went wild. This is not a warning—it's a statement. Question my authority again, and you won't see the next second, no matter who you think you are."
With that, she rolled out of the room.
Tim watched her disappear down the hall before glancing at the woman now motionless on the ground. She was going pale fast, blood pooling beneath her.
He sighed, then bent down and lifted her effortlessly.
Donna didn't kill her, he realized. Which meant she still had her uses.
As he carried her out, he issued a curt order. "Get the study cleaned up."
Because in Donna's world, the only thing that mattered was power. And tonight, she had made it very, very clear who held it.
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Rhys sat in the back of the car, his fingers tightening around his phone as he scrolled through the digital copies of the evidence Seyi had buried. His men were retrieving the physical files, but the images flashing across his screen already told a story—one he wasn't sure he was ready to face.
Then he saw it.
His breath stilled.
The necklace.
Everything else in the picture—the blurred figures, the dim alley, the bloodstains—made sense in context.
His mother had given him that necklace. She had personalized it for him. She had made him promise—swear—to never let it out of his sight. And yet, after she died, he couldn't bear to wear it. The weight of it around his neck had felt like chains, the grief crushing him. He had tucked it away somewhere easily unreachable, somewhere no one else could find it.
And yet, here it was. In a picture taken after her death.
His chest constricted, something primal clawing at his ribs. His fingers clenched so tightly around his phone that the screen threatened to crack.
"Turn the car around. To Area 66"
His voice sliced through the silence of the vehicle, cold and commanding.
Andy's head snapped toward him. "Padrino?"
Rhys didn't look up. His gaze remained glued to the image, mind racing.
Andy was used to anticipating his Padrino's thoughts, reading the small cues that others missed. But this time… this time, he had nothing. Whatever Rhys had just seen—it was the cause of his foul mood
Andy didn't ask again. Instead, he turned forward and barked the order. "We're going to Peak Villa."
The driver reacted instantly, reversing so fast the tires screeched.
—
The moment they arrived, the household was thrown into confusion. The staff, surprised and excited to see Rhys, barely had time to react before he stormed through the entrance, moving like a man possessed.
Jennifer, lounging on the couch watching TV, nearly choked on her drink when the front door slammed open. She shot to her feet, startled.
"Rhys?" she called, but he didn't so much as glance at her.
His long strides carried him past her, straight up the stairs, his entire aura screaming danger.
Jennifer blinked in shock before scrambling for her phone. Her fingers fumbled as she dialed. The moment the call connected, she whispered into the receiver, voice trembling with excitement and unease.
"Honey, you won't believe who just walked in! Rhys—" she lowered her voice further "—and he looks really serious."
She heard a sharp inhale on the other end.
"I'm on my way."
The line cut.
Jennifer barely had time to process that before Rhys materialized right in front of her.
"Ahhh!" She let out a startled yelp, clutching her chest.
His expression didn't shift. He didn't care that he had frightened her. If anything, he looked like he was seconds away from tearing the entire house apart.
His gaze was lethal.
"You didn't touch the shoebox with the purple Ribbon in my mother's room, did you?"
The words weren't a question. They were an accusation.
Jennifer's breath caught in her throat.
She had touched it.
And judging by the deadly fire in Rhys' eyes, she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.