The soft clatter of pots and the sizzling of eggs filled the Roy penthouse, a soundscape of order and obligation. Malik, sleeves rolled up and his eyes focused on what he's making. They were moving between the stovetop and the marble counter like a man with purpose though the purpose wasn't his. He was neither a chef nor a servant. He was Sarah Roy's husband, but only in name and the kitchen was his cage."Malik, Grandfather's birthday is tonight. You’ll be there. Don’t make me say it twice.” Sarah's voice cut through the morning like glass. She appeared in the doorway, dressed immaculately in a navy pantsuit, her every button and fold screamed nothing but wealth and power. Malik didn’t look up. His eyes focused on flipping the pancake he was making as he responded, "I remember. I’ll be there.""You better be, and not in one of your bargain-bin jackets. Wear something decent. I won’t have you embarrassing me again.” She snapped, striding in. Her stilettos clacked sharply on the floo

The Roy estate gleamed, resembling a palace crafted from gold and spun silk. Towering chandeliers flickered like stardust above a sea of couture and custom tailored tuxedos. Outside, valet attendants shuffled beneath a sky thick with drones capturing every inch of glamour. The indoor fountain was decorated with sculpted orchid and iris peacocks, a blatant symbol of the family hosting the extravagant event.Paul Roy’s sixty-fifth birthday was no mere celebration. It was a display of dominance, legacy, and power. Dignitaries, royals, and tech moguls maneuvered in the ballroom, akin to chess pieces on a bejeweled board, all striving to get closer to the Roy empire.Michelle DeWitt arrived flanked by his parents, all three dressed like the cover of a billionaire lifestyle magazine. His father, Arnold DeWitt, clasped Paul Roy’s hand like an equal, whispering something that made the old man laugh with rare warmth. Elisabeth DeWitt greeted Sarah with a practiced kiss on the cheek—the kind th

The room stood still as the air thick with disbelief as Malik stepped through the grand ballroom doors. His tailored black suit cut clean lines through the sea of whispers and judgment. For a moment, time paused. Even the clinking of crystal glasses and distant string quartet faded. All eyes snapped to him. And not just eyes, they were judgment, ridicule and scorn.Sarah's breath caught in her throat. This Malik, the one dressed in tailored suit, wasn't the man she had married. He moved like a phantom of authority, carved from shadows and steel. The suit draped on him with a quiet richness, his shoulders squared like a man who didn’t ask for permission to walk into power.But silence shattered with a voice from the crowd.“This is absolutely not him… he’s just a cleaner. A man like that couldn’t afford a tie, let alone a suit like that.” Oliver scoffed, stepping forward, recognition dripping with disbelief. Laughter erupted.“This could’ve cost him his entire lifespan in savings,” J

The air in the ballroom turned electric, charged with greed, pride and thinly veiled contempt. The dazzling chandeliers above did nothing to soften the razor edged silence that followed the elder's revelation. But just as the room seemed ready to erupt into chaos, Janet’s voice cut through with precision."If this gift is so priceless, then let’s have it scanned, authenticated, and appraised. Let’s strip away the illusion." She sneered, folding her arms tightly.A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Faces turned to one another with barely concealed delight. They didn’t want Malik to be vindicated and they craved Sarah’s fall. Her disgrace would feed their envy for years.“Yes that's right….! Absolutely!” Sarah stood frozen beside Malik. Her breath hitched in her chest and her eyes darting between her family, her enemies and the ancient relics. She had never felt so cornered.Janet took a slow step forward. "If your little charity project truly brought something real, he sho

"It’s not over yet!"Janet’s voice cracked across the ballroom like shattering crystal, halting the chaos mid-breath. Her tone was sharp, accusatory, vibrating with triumph. Even the chandeliers seemed to freeze mid-swing.She pointed a trembling finger at Malik. "Not when the gift was stolen! Not when Malik, a cleaner who couldn’t afford decent shoes, suddenly produces relics worth billions? Ancient scrolls? Obsidian locks that break valuation software? It’s impossible!"The room reeled. Doubt, thick and suffocating, replaced the stunned awe.Paul Roy, the patriarch, narrowed his hawkish eyes on Malik. The flicker of respect he’d felt moments ago evaporated, replaced by cold suspicion. "Is this true, boy? Did you steal these treasures?" His voice rasped like stone, grinding stone.Malik stood motionless. A muscle flickered faintly in his jaw, the only sign of the accusation’s sting.Sarah’s thoughts spiraled beside him. The man who meticulously folded her sweaters, who knew her coffe