THE EXILED KING

THE DAGGER BEHIND THE WINE

The restaurant was called La Bella Noire. It was made up of an elegant rooftop spot that kissed the clouds above the city.

Its glowing chandeliers hung like stars, casting soft lights across the white marble floors.

A gentle jazz melody played in the background, as waiters dressed in black tuxedos glided smoothly between tables.

At a private corner by the glass window, Evelyn sat with her three closest friends—Freda, Hilda, and Clarissa.

They were dressed in luxury—diamond earrings, silk dresses, high-end designer shoes.

Their table was covered with golden plates, crystal glasses filled with champagne, and a spread of world-class cuisine: truffle risotto, wagyu beef steaks, lobster dipped in white wine butter.

They ate slowly and with class, lifting their forks like royalty and dabbing their lips with fine linen napkins.

Then Freda leaned back in her seat, gently tapping her glass with a silver spoon.

“My loves,” she began boldly, “let me tell you what my husband did this week.”

She smiled proudly, brushing back her golden brown hair.

“He just returned from Qatar. Guess what? The government there gave him a new title—Honorary Prince of the Sands—for his massive donations to their health and education sectors.”

Evelyn raised her brow slightly, trying to smile.

“Oh, and get this,” Freda continued, laughing lightly. “They gave him two oil wells as a reward.”

“Two oil wells?” Hilda repeated, with eyes that were wide with fake shock.

Freda nodded. “Yes, darling. He already signed the rights. And to celebrate, he bought me this diamond transparent watch.” She raised her wrist for them all to see. “Custom-made. Twenty million dollars.”

They all gasped—except Evelyn, who just sipped from her wine glass quietly.

Now it was Hilda’s turn. She sat up straight, flashing her white teeth.

“Well, in the spirit of your celebration Freda, it would interest you ladies to know that my darling husband just got honoured too, promoted even,” she said proudly. “He’s now a General in the Eswatini Royal Army.”

“General?” Clarissa asked.

“Yes! He had a private ceremony with the King last week. Full military honors.” She paused. “And guess what gift he gave me after that?”

“What?” Freda asked, leaning forward.

Hilda smiled. “A brand-new Bugatti La Voiture Noire. Fully armored. Delivered four days ago. I’ve barely stopped driving it since.”

"Wait, you mean that Bugatti outside belongs to you?" Clarissa asked, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Hilda nodded, clearly enjoying the attention.

"My God, you need to see the attention, how people were looking at me once I pulled up in that Bugatti La Voiture Noire, babes. It’s a one-of-a-kind custom design. People thought I was royalty. It was like being driven in a piece of automotive history.”

They all giggled again, clinking their glasses.

Clarissa flipped her curly hair over her shoulder and leaned in with a smirk.

“Well, not to brag, but… my husband was just named the new Chairman of the National Financial Policy Committee.”

All eyes turned to her.

“It was on the news four days ago. He’s the youngest ever to be given that role,” she added. “And to celebrate… he took me to Paris for lunch and surprised me with a necklace worth over fifteen million dollars. Pure sapphire. I nearly fainted!”

“Wow!” Hilda and Freda both shouted, clapping softly.

Then Freda turned to Evelyn, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“So, Evelyn... what about your husband?” she asked, tilting her head. “Has he achieved any level of success... besides running to your desk every morning begging you to sign some documents, saying ‘It’s good for business, it’s good for business’?”

The other ladies burst into laughter.

Evelyn’s face turned stiff. She tried to laugh with them, but it was weak… forced.

“But come to think of it,” Hilda added, looking at her sharply, “why the hell did you choose a man who works under you? A man who calls you boss?”

That line pierced deep.

Evelyn didn’t respond.

She just stared down at her plate, her fingers tightening around her fork, as if trying to hold back something boiling deep inside.

Evelyn lowered her eyes. Her throat felt tight. The words to respond didn’t come. The laughter around the table kept ringing in her ears.

All she could see was Freda’s smirk... and the shining glass of the twenty-million-dollar watch on her wrist.

But the real pain wasn’t the laughter.

It was the memory.

The memory of that day during the Rhys tech ascendancy gala at her company headquarters…

When Nolan walked in and caught her in one of the private rooms within the company headquaters with Zahir Malikyan.

He caught her lips brushing against that of Zahir.

It was just a kiss—and some slight touching, nothing more. But the look on Nolan’s face still haunted her.

As she remembered how Nolan dealt with that situation, it vexed her why an average man like him would disrupt her romantic encounter with someone like Zahir Malikyan.

The pain. The silence. The heartbreak.

She shook the thought away.

“I’m just... I’m not in the mood to talk about Nolan,” she whispered.

“Oh, please!” Hilda scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You should be in the mood. You married him!”

She laughed again and sipped her champagne. “Evelyn, I’ve been meaning to ask... What came over you, babe? You—one of the sharpest women I know—ended up marrying a man who works under you? A man who is literally on your payroll?”

Clarissa and Freda burst into laughter again.

Evelyn’s chest rose slowly.

She sat up and looked at them.

“Listen,” she said firmly, her voice was low but clear, “Nolan is smart. He’s committed. He’s loyal. He’s been there for me and the company when no one else was.” She tried to defend her husband.

Freda shrugged. “No one is saying he hasn’t. In fact, we all know how much Nolan has helped with the growth of Rhys-Tech Global.” Said Hilda.

“Exactly,” Evelyn replied. “He’s helped me seal major deals, secure big partnerships, and manage high-level investors. He may not be flashy, but he’s a strong man. A good man.”

Clarissa smiled lazily. “Yes, we know, Evie. We know.”

“But is he a man of status?” Freda asked suddenly.

Evelyn blinked.

Freda leaned forward, her Smile fading into a sharp line. “Is he a man of rank? Of power?”

She paused, letting her words settle like a blade.

“Tell me, Evelyn,” she added, dragging her voice slowly, “what has Nolan really achieved... apart from secretly begging billionaires around the country—and around the world—to please invest in your company, Rhys-Tech Global?”

The table exploded in laughter again.

And this time… Evelyn’s hands began to tremble.

She didn’t laugh.

She didn’t blink.

She just sat there, staring at her plate… Feeling like the whole room had gotten darker.

Just then someone stepped inside the restaurant.

It was Nolan.