The sight hit Benjamin like a physical stab to the heart.The familiar face of Alfred Storm under the white sheet, a stiff thing— his eyes shut, face paled like the ghost he became about an hour ago. His body was disfigured with cuts from whatever sharp objects that marked his body from the terrifying accident taking his life and smile that was once warming on the screen. On his chest, precisely where his heart was placed, a deep gash ran deep into his flesh from merciless iron rod. Dried blood could be seen around the place.Benjamin's chest hammered.His knee snapped outward as a wave of despair struck him. He gripped the bed frame for support, his heart racing erratically.Staring at the cuts on his body, he could only imagine the terrifying pain he went through before he died under the truck. The pain, the helpless cry, the struggle through the blood.Benjamin's knee finally gave out beside the bed with a sharp crack against the marble.He held his stiff hand, shaking it gently w

The receptionist was still hissing about BEGGER AND STUPID ANTICS when Mrs. Montclair materialized like a ghost in the receptionist. It was usual for her to walk through the reception. No, She had never walked through. Most staff members had never seen her in person since their employment. Routes had always been by air. Helicopter. Private landing spot at the hospital rooftop that made her unrecognizable by most employees. The room didn't notice her presence immediately but they noticed Margaret, her assistant. Her face. "Who made the order?!!" Mrs. Montclair growled, composure wavering. She cast hard gaze on the employees. "She did—" Margaret nodded at the female receptionist. She jerked up. Her chair shifted back, scrapping the marble. "Ms. Margaret..." She gasped, surprised to see Mrs. Montclair's assistant in the reception without quickly recognizing the woman beside her. Margaret's presence carried weight in the absence of her. "Good morning, ma." She gushed, cheek flushing

Grandfather?" Benjamin repeated in surprise.Jackson nodded.Benjamin knew the story. His mother narrated everything to him before cancer took her when he was twenty.His Paternal grandfather was never in support of their marriage because his father chose to marry a woman from a poor family background, refusing marriage with his bethroted from one of the prestigious families in the city.Angrily, Grandfather declared he refused to be his son if he refused to follow the arrangements. Grandfather Gerald was enraged when he heard his mother was pregnant, casting him out of the family and said he must never show his face again till he complied with his decision. His father left the city with his mother, they got attacked at night when trying to survive in the strange city, his father lost his life protecting them against thugs while buying time for his pregnant wife's escape."I'm not interested! In What reason that made him sent you to me. " Benjamin said."Master Hayes...""I'm not Ma

The order arrived plated inside an expensive ceramic— three plates carefully placed on a silver tray with orange juice and three glasses standing beside. "Enjoy your meal, Sir, Ma." The waitress bowed gently as she set the tray down. "Thank you." Benjamin uncovered Aria's plate. Steam curled into the air, the aroma of the seasoned jollof rice filling the air around them quickly. "Wow.." Aria gasped, her small eyes widening in astonishment. "The chicken is bigger than my head." Benjamin and Cassandra laughed, excitement filling the air as they set to eat their meal quietly. Benjamin didn't start eating immediately, staring at Cassandra's phone that was still vibrating on the table with notification she ignored. "Won't you like to attend to that?" He nodded at the Phone. "It's not really important." She said without looking at the phone, picking up a spoon to commence eating. "Your husband?" Benjamin asked, uncovering the plate in his front. Cassandra paused and let out a ge

Killian froze at the door in shock that was meant to be a room he knew better but it was like walking into another room. Even the smell was wrong. It wasn't the smell of fresh printed documents and Cassandra's cologne that should belong to the room. It was the mix of everything and something wet— Sweats and another thing that twisted him in the stomach like a knife. Across the room, a swivel chair squealed under them, bouncing up and down with uncontrolled thrusting force. Damn! That was Cassandra, the woman he married for four years, the woman he ended up in prison to protect her reputation. She was making out with another man in her office. The shock came at Killian's stomach like a physical blow. His finger curled tightly, anger rising inside like a tide. "Cassandra!" Cassandra jerked up, stumbling back to the corner of the room. "Oh, God—" her chest hammered. Her breath was shallow and rough. She dragged her wrinkled dress down with trembling fingers out of spite than