A slight pause. "You’re trespassing." Amira let out a short laugh. Like he had just told a joke. Private property. For a fleeting second, sothing flickered in her eyes. A thought she didn’t dare voice.
If I hadn’t changed the will... But it passed. Quickly replaced by sothing sharper. aner. "Oh, please," she said, her tone dripping with mockery. "So this is what we’re doing now?" She tilted her head slightly, studying him.
"Playing house?" Julian didn’t react. "So tell sothing," Amira continued, her voice rising just enough to carry. "How does it feel?" A slow smile ford. Cruel.
"Watching your wife carry another man’s child." Silence. From behind the tall flowers. Amara had stepped out. Not enough to be seen. But enough to hear. Every word.
"It must be painful," Amira pressed on. "How do you do it?" She took a step closer to the gate. "Let guess..." she added, her eyes narrowing. "You’re waiting for the DNA test, right?"
A sharp laugh escaped her. "Waiting for confirmation that you’re not the father... so you can finally find so dignity and walk away." Julian didn’t flinch. Not even slightly.
"If you’re done," he said calmly, "you should leave." Amira’s smile dropped instantly. "Amara!" she suddenly shouted. "Co out and talk to !" Behind the flowers. Amara’s fingers curled slightly.
"I know what you’re trying to do!" Amira continued, her voice louder now, desperate beneath the anger. "Don’t try to pin mother’s death on !" Julian’s gaze hardened. "Leo already told ," Amira snapped. "I’m the only suspect, right?" She laughed bitterly.
"If you want to co at , then co at directly!" A step forward. Her voice is breaking now. "And don’t use mother’s death to bring down!" Silence.
"Where is your conscience, huh?" Amira went on, her voice cracking. "What happened to the perfect, righteous Amara?" A bitter scoff.
"That’s low. Even for you." A breath. Then louder. "Do you hear , Amara?!" Behind the flowers. Amara didn’t move. But her eyes... They didn’t waver. "I didn’t kill our mother!"
The words echoed. Sharp. Desperate. Real. Julian exhaled slowly. "Get her out of here," he said coldly. The guards moved imdiately.
Amira struggled. Protested. Her voice faded as they dragged her away from the gate. "I didn’t do it!" she shouted. "Do you hear ?! I didn’t—!" The noise faded into the distance.
Silence returned. Julian turned. Ready to go back inside. He took a few steps. Then stopped. Because she was there. Amara. Standing behind the long flowers. Still. Quiet. But no longer hidden.
And this ti. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Which ant. Sothing had changed. "Amara... why are you here?" Julian asked, his voice softer now as he stepped closer. "Wait do you want to talk to Amira? I thought you..."
"Oh no," Amara cut in quickly, shaking her head. "I don’t want to see her face." A small pause. "Good thing you sent her away." There was sothing in her tone.
Not just relief. Sothing... gentler. "Thank you," she added.
Julian stilled for a second. He hadn’t expected that. He nodded once.
"Always." And just like that. They turned back toward the house. Side by side. Close. But quiet. Neither of them said what was really on their mind. Not about Amira. Not about the baby. Not about the weight of everything slowly building around them.
The night slipped away like that. Soft. Uneasy. Unspoken. Morning ca. At Ara Clothing, Raymond arrived early. Or rather. Sebastian. Disguised. Hidden in plain sight.
He sat behind his desk, files open, numbers neatly arranged across the screen. On paper. Everything looked perfect. Ara was growing fast. Too fast for a company so new. The returns were strong. Promising.
But Raymond wasn’t really seeing any of it. His eyes kept drifting. Again. And again. To the door. Waiting. For her. Each ti it opened. A flicker of expectation.
Each ti it wasn’t her. A tightening in his chest. "Are you waiting for soone?" Janet’s voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up quickly.
Too quickly. "No," he said. But the answer ca a little too fast. A little too rehearsed. Janet raised a brow.
"It must be your wife," she said lightly, trying to fill the silence. "I hope she’s happy you got a new job." Raymond forced a smile. A polite one. Empty. "She is," he said shortly.
Then he slid a file toward her. "Can you check this?" he added. "The accounts are ready." Janet took it, nodding. "Alright."
"I’ll step out for lunch," he said, already standing. He didn’t wait for a response. Janet watched him leave, her brows pulling together slightly. "...What’s wrong with him?" she muttered under her breath.
Inside the washroom. Raymond stood in front of the mirror. Still. Then his hands gripped the edge of the sink. Why isn’t she here? The question hit harder than he expected.
His thoughts spiraled quickly. Is she okay? Did sothing happen? Is the baby okay? His jaw tightened. My son... The thought slipped in before he could stop it. Possessive. Instinctive. Dangerous.
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face. He couldn’t go to the house. Not like this. Not as Raymond. And not as himself. Frustration built in his chest. Restless. Unsettling.
What’s the point of being here... If she wasn’t? He looked at his reflection again. And for a second. The mask almost slipped.
—
The clatter of forks and the hum of the office microwave had finally died down, leaving behind a kind of fragile quiet, one that didn’t quite belong in a place like this. Screens glowed. Fingers hovered over keyboards. Conversations faded into unfinished thoughts.
At the center island, Janet stood still, her hands folded neatly in front of her. She didn’t rush. She waited.
One by one, the last few keystrokes tapered off. A chair creaked. Soone cleared their throat. And then, nothing.
Only then did she speak. "Listen up, everyone." Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. It always did.
"Since the project is ahead of schedule and everything is running smoothly..." She paused, just long enough for a few curious glances to rise toward her. "Amara is going to be taking so ti off to rest."
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