The outbursts became more frequent. There were days she accused him of not loving her enough, there were nights she woke him at 3 a.m. demanding he rub her back, mornings when even the way he breathed seemed to irritate her. Once, after he accidentally left his socks on the floor, she unleashed a storm that lasted nearly an hour. “Do you think I’m your maid?!” she screamed, throwing the socks at him. “Is that what you married me for?” Jackson stared at her in disbelief. “Dianna, it’s just a pair of socks…” “It’s not the socks!” she yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It’s everything! I feel invisible, Jackson, invisible!” He bit his tongue, swallowing the retort that burned on his lips. Instead, he grabbed the socks silently and stuffed them into the laundry basket. But inside, he was cracking, he was fuming. He began to question if this was what all married men go through with their pregnant wives. Work at the company didn’t make things easier. Jackson was

Finn’s bitter laugh cracked the air like a whip. “Love? Don’t insult me, Jackson. Men like you don’t marry my daughter for love. You marry her for what she represents. For the Guler name. For the inheritance you think you’ll leech through her, well I will never allow that to happen.” “Dad, stop!” Dianna’s voice shook as she threw herself between them, hands trembling, tears streaming down her face. “You’re wrong. Jackson is not perfect, yes, he makes mistakes... but he’s been here for me when no one else was. He takes care of me. Of your grandchild. Can’t you see that? Can't you see that he loves me deeply? He is my husband now and not just anyone!” Finn’s chest rose and fell like a man restraining himself from breaking apart the room. He glared at Jackson, then at Dianna clinging to him. “You defend him like he’s a saint. Do you forget who raised you? Who sacrificed everything for you? And now you stand here, protecting him from me? From your own father?” “Because you’re not b

Even weeks later, Riverage had not quieted. The city breathed gossip like oxygen. Kahuna, no longer just a mysterious businessman had become an obsession. A ghost who ruled their lives without ever showing his face. Parents used his name as a weapon to mold their kids. “Do your homework! You think Kahuna became rich by being lazy?” a mother snapped at her boy. At another home, a father warned, “Save your money, Kahuna didn’t build his empire by wasting coins on sweets.” His name echoed everywhere even on playgrounds, children debated whether he was taller than a basketball hoop, at weddings where guests speculated if the champagne had been secretly sponsored by him, and even at funerals, where mourners swore the anonymous donor who paid for the coffin must have been Kahuna. Every day brought up new rumors. Every week added new “sightings.” And with each tale, Riverage bent closer to madness. At a barbershop on the Eastside, the clippers buzzed like angry bees as m

A doctor appeared suddenly, his expression stern as he raised a hand. “This is a hospital, not a boxing ring. You will lower your voices at once. There is a woman in labor fighting for her child in there, she doesn’t need to hear your shouting. If you cannot control yourselves, you will leave.” The silence that followed was sharp and suffocating. Finn glared at Jackson, Jackson glared back, and between them laid an unresolved conflict filled with years of resentment and bitterness. Helen muttered under her breath, “This is going to be a long night.” Sarah exhaled shakily and returned to her seat, resuming her whispered prayers. Harry simply shook his head, murmuring, “May God help the child, born into a storm.” Jackson clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms. Finn’s jaw worked as though he was chewing hard nuts. Dianna screamed yet again, this time her voice was louder, echoing down the hall. Jackson had resumed pacing, his fists clenched so tightly

The room felt alive because of the people inside. Emotions pressed close, crowding tighter than the space itself. A birth had occurred, yes, but what truly hung in the air was legacy. Dianna, although pale but radiant with a mother’s glow, cradled the tiny child against her chest. His breaths were soft, shallow but to those gathered, they were thunder, reminders that a new life now demanded a place in two powerful families. Jackson hovered at her side, unwilling to step away even for a second. His hand never left her shoulder. His eyes, rimmed with red, carried both exhaustion and an almost frightening joy. Anyone who dared come too near was measured by that protective gaze. Sarah Milton approached first, her hands clutched together like she feared her heart might spill out through them. Tears streamed unchecked as she bent over the small bundle. “Oh, Dianna,” Sarah whispered, voice cracking. “He’s beautiful. A perfect angel. Thank you… for this gift, for mak