“I told you, I don't want to get married to you. That was why I called off the engagement.” Monica said firmly. Austin couldn't believe his eyes, he thought she was playing a prank on him. So he had to come over to her office to know if the message he saw was real. “But you know, your father wanted us to get married. It was his last wish.” Austin muttered. “That was then, but now he is no more. And I can't get married because that's his last wish. We aren't meant for each other. Can't you see the picture? You are just a local Doctor from the street. Look around you.” She said. “Darkness and light have nothing in common. I have someone I love and would love to get married to. Not you, Austin, over my dead body. Will that ever happen?” Austin Davis and Monica Raymond were supposed to get married a long time ago, Mr. Graham Raymond wanted the marriage to push through after Austin saved his life from poison. The marriage was halted after the death of Graham. It's been two months

Austin hesitated for a moment, “Yes, let her have it.” He replied. “Okay,” The chairman said before the line went dead. The chairman returned to the office, he sat down and brought out a contract from the drawer. “Ms, Monica, we are offering the contract.” Monica's eyes widened in disbelief; a while ago, she was scared and worried, but now she has been assigned the contract, which seems impossible. When she left the office and made her way to Gerald's car. She kept a calm demeanor. Upon seeing her, Gerald felt his heart pounding in his chest. “How was it?” he asked calmly. She hugged him, as her face filled with excitement. “I got the contract.” She blurted out. “Really.” He looked shocked but fainted a smile. “How did she do that?” He thought. “Thank you, so much. I really appreciate it. I think you should call your dad. I need to thank him.” Monica was still excited that she didn't notice how uneasy he felt. “Oh, no. Forget about it, it's nothing.” She shr

The crowd laughed at Austin, “He doesn't have a car. Quit acting and ask for forgiveness.” The old man nodded, “But you have to be careful; this is a race, not a birthday party.” “I understand, don't worry,” Austin said firmly. “You should place a bet on me.” The old man couldn't help but wonder where Austin got his confidence from. The race was set up quickly and the two of them made their way to the track. The shiny Mustang revved its engine, a deep growl of power that sent Vibrations through the ground, while James was in a beat-up, old car. The crowd couldn't help but snicker at the disparity between the two vehicles. Austin ignored the whispers; he knew he didn't need a fancy car to prove a point; he wanted a car. He could immediately send a message to his butler, and the best sports car would be brought to him. What mattered was his skill and determination. As the race began Jude shot off like a bullet. While Austin has a different approach. He didn't reply on

Monica’s face turned pale as she looked up, realising who the men were. Gerald was shocked to see Victor’s men; he knew he didn’t have any business with them and wondered why they came. But something in him struck when he saw Austin smiling and enjoying his meal with Charlie. He thought about using Victor’s men against Austin. What a coincidence? The thug didn’t bother looking at Gerald because they came for a reason. “Come with us, Ms. Monica.” “What for?” Monica asked. “What have I done?” “Can’t you see I am having a good time with her, and can’t you show some respect. I am a Benson and I demand you show us some respect.” Gerald uttered, with his shoulder raised. The thug glared at Gerald, “We know and that doesn’t scare us. We aren’t here for you; we have been asked to come with her; our boss wants to see you.” Gerald stood from his chair; this was his opportunity to show his authority as a member of the Benson's family. “Why does your boss want to see her?” “Her mot

Monica stormed into the living room, with her face flushed with anger. Her heart was pounding, and her mind was spinning with the realization of what almost happened. Mrs Sarah sat on the couch, unsure of what to say to her daughter when their gaze met. She knew Monica was mad at her, but she was her mother, and her daughter was not supposed to be. “Mom,” Monica shouted, her voice was sharp and dangerous. “Why would you? Do you have any idea what almost happened to me? Do you have any clue how close I was to being taken away by those me? Do you know how embarrassed I was when I was dragged out of the restaurant?” Her mother didn't fly; she didn't look at Mon, who was ranting. Mrs. Sarah took the magazine from the desk, flipping through the pages, rustling like they held her answers. “I didn't do anything? It was just a misunderstanding.” Mrs Sarah muttered, not bothering to make eye contact. “You didn't? What nonsense misunderstanding.” Monica countered, as her hands balled