12 “Hello, sweetie…” Xavier said with a giggle. “X…Xavier… I… I can't continue with the wedding.” Joyce muttered. “Huh?” Xavier’s widened. Joyce is tied around the chair; the Solo tape on her mouth was loosened as she spoke on the phone with Xavier. Kisha and Mira stood behind her, holding the phone that was on a loudspeaker. Kisha pointed a gun at her head. “I can't,” Joyce added. She caught Kisha's deadly gaze and froze in fear. “What? Why?” Xavier asked again. Greg smirked. “I…I changed my mind! Xavier, run!” Joyce shouted quickly on the phone. Kisha immediately ended the call. Xavier turned and faced Greg; he yanked his shirt vigorously. “What the hell did you do to Joyce!” He yelled with a red, angered eye. “Hahaha… nothing!” Greg said with a mocking tune. “Where is she!?” He barked. “You want me to tell you? Give me $3 million…NO! $4 million!” Greg smiled wickedly. “Fine! There is $5 million in the briefcase there; take it!” Xavier said let him go. “Yeah

14 Five years later The pregnancy journey hadn’t been easy for Joyce. There had been sleepless nights, cravings at odd hours, backaches, and moments when she felt her strength drain away. But through every contraction, every doctor’s appointment, and every tear shed in quiet moments, Xavier was there. Despite being the CEO of Barrols Company Limited, he never once made her feel alone. If anything, his presence was a constant reassurance, his warm hand holding hers in hospital corridors, his voice steadying her fears when anxiety clawed at her chest. Now, years later, Joyce had stepped into her own role as the Executive Director of the company. Together, husband and wife managed the business seamlessly, their partnership in work and love stronger than ever. Life had been peaceful. Aunt Keisha Greg and Mira Greg Amira were no longer a shadow over their happiness. After the public humiliation they’d suffered over the Demi scandal, they had quietly slipped away, out of the country, aw

16 Every morning was a fresh battle for Joyce. She woke before dawn, her body weary but her spirit stubbornly holding on. The cold water from the tap bit at her skin as she washed her face, trying to summon strength for another day at the office, a place that had once been a source of pride, now a daily humiliation. At the company, Mr. Daniels’ voice was the first thing she heard. “Joyce!” His sharp tone cut through the air like a blade. “Come and get this thing out of here. This trash, gone. Now.” Joyce bit back her words, her hands curling slightly at her sides before she bent to pick up the crumpled papers from the floor. She turned toward the waste bin, her face carefully blank. Moments later, he barked another order. “Joyce! My desk, clean it. And bring me coffee. Hot. Not like the cold nonsense you made last time.” She forced a polite nod, though her jaw tightened. And it didn’t end there. “Joyce, the machines in the storage room are a mess. Go arrange them.” Each comma

18 It was a beautiful Saturday morning, though for Joyce, beauty had long since lost its shine. Still, she dressed with quiet determination. If she wasn’t ready for joy, she was at least ready for the humiliation that waited for her at work. Mr. Daniels had a way of making every weekend unbearable, and today would be no different. She dressed Aurora carefully, brushing her little girl’s hair into a neat ponytail. Saturday meant no school, which also meant Aurora had to come with her to the company. The nanny had stopped working months ago when her pay had dropped to almost nothing. Now, Joyce did everything herself. Mr. Daniels had reluctantly allowed her to bring Aurora on Saturdays, but he had made the rules clear, Aurora was not to run around, make noise, or interfere in any way. It was absurd, Joyce thought bitterly. Even though it was Xavier’s company, even though Aurora was the daughter of the true CEO, they were treated like outsiders. As Joyce buttoned her daughter’s small

20 Mr. Daniels’ smile had vanished the moment the questions started piling up. His voice turned sharp, each word slicing through the air like a whip. “You don’t have the right to ask questions here, especially you, Joyce,” he barked, his tone loud enough for everyone in the crowd to hear. “This is not your husband’s company. The CEO is not even the man you claim he is. You’re nothing here but a cleaner, so shut up and listen instead of talking.” He took a small step closer, his eyes narrowing, his voice dropping into something more personal and venomous. “Accept your fate, Joyce. Accept that you’re poor. That’s it. Nobody is coming to save you, not you, and not your stupid daughter, Aurora.” The words landed like a slap. Joyce’s face tightened, her chin trembling slightly as she bent her head to avoid letting anyone see the hurt in her eyes. The humiliation burned deep in her chest, and she felt Aurora’s little fingers squeeze her hand for comfort. The crowd around them erupted in