NEMESIS OF A PRINCESSThe rhythmic vibration of the bus against the asphalt was the only thing keeping Leslie grounded as her mind raced through the cold mathematics of her new existence. She leaned her head back, her eyes tracing the frayed edges of the seat in front of her.At least she had a job.That thought was a small, flickering candle in the dark. In two weeks, she would receive a pay cheque. It would not be a fortune; it would not even cover the cost of a single pair of shoes she used to buy on a whim, but it would be hers. It would be a shield against her mother’s relentless, razor-sharp scoldings. Linda’s voice had become a permanent soundtrack of disappointment in the house, and the prospect of being able to say, “I have my own money,” was the only thing keeping Leslie’s pride from completely disintegrating.But as the bus lurched through the evening traffic, the candle of hope began to flicker and dim under the weight of reality.She opened her designer purse and peer

The stairs felt longer on the way down, each step vibrating through Leslie’s swollen ankles. The weight of the document in her hand seemed odd compared to its actual mass. To Leslie, this was just the paperwork of a failed chapter, the legal obituary of her life with a man who had been a footnote in her family’s grand narrative. She could not fathom why Linda, a woman who dealt in multi-million-dollar mergers and high-stakes social engineering, would care about a repairman’s exit strategy.When she reached the ground floor, Linda was not there. The sharp, savoury scent of searing meat and onions wafted from the kitchen, a domestic smell that felt alien in a house that usually smelt of expensive lilies and floor wax. Linda had vanished back into the kitchen.Leslie slumped onto the sofa next to Bernard, tossing the folder onto the coffee table. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "Why does she want this so badly? It is just Jack’s divorce papers. There is nothing in there b

TABLE OF DISBELIEFLinda looked up from her plate, her eyes hard and judgmental. The sight of him, sweaty, dishevelled, and smelling of exhaust and pavement, seemed to offend her more than their actual poverty."You are finally home," she commented, her voice clipped. It was not a welcome; it was an observation of his tardiness.Robert nodded, his chest still rising and falling in shallow, jagged bursts. He reached for a glass of water, draining it in a single, desperate gulp before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand."Did you finally get a job?" Linda asked, her tone flat. "Or are we adding another mouth to feed to the list of our failures?" She asked"I got one," Robert wheezed, his voice cracking. "Valet. At the high-rise on 5th. It is a week’s trial. I have to prove I can handle the volume and the... the regular customers before they put me on the permanent roster. It is back-breaking, Linda. I am on my feet for ten hours, sprinting for keys, and driving cars that I us

WHO IS HE ?Robert ignored Bernard and turned his gaze toward Linda. He looked like a man who had seen a ghost and was now realising the ghost was the one holding the keys to the house."Who was he, Linda?" Robert asked, his voice suddenly quiet and terrifyingly focused.  "Do we actually know anything about Jack’s family? Does anyone here know where he actually came from?" Robert asked them, glancing at their faces one after the other, waiting for an answer.The table went silent. The only sound was the clinking of Leslie’s spoon against her bowl as she scraped the last of the stew. Linda looked away, her eyes drifting toward the darkened foyer where the portrait of Arthur Smith still hung, a silent sentinel of

Leslie was the first to reach there. She leaned over and her eyes immediately fell on what Linda’s hand was hovering on, and pausedLinda’s breath hitched. A cold, numbing sensation started at her toes and raced up her spine. She realised why Arthur had been so insistent. She realised why the Vantage Group had waited until the ink was dry on this paper to strike. She realised why Julian Rothwell had been so interested in their family."Linda?" Robert asked, standing up. "What is it? What does it say?"Linda didn't answer. She couldn't. She stared at the name, the name they had never bothered to ask for, the name they had ignored because they thought it didn't matter.Leslie was the first to reach there. She leaned over and her eyes immediately fell on what Linda’s hand was hovering on, and paused"Jack is a Rothwell?" She screamed.“Jack Rothwell.” She murmured the full name out loudThe document slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor, landing face-up on the rug."The f