MATTHEW
After more than twelve years away, my uncle Harry Smith was finally coming back home, and my grandfather was throwing a ball to honour his return. I didn't really care because very soon, I would have a bigger celebration of my own. Dressed in a black velvet suit and trousers, my white shirt spoke volumes, and it made my rich maroon velvet bow tie stand out. I looked in the mirror, and I saw a man ready to command attention at the ball, I was a vision of sophistication. Entering the beautifully decorated arena a few minutes later, I observed men coming in, dressed in tuxedos, each accompanied by a woman in their arms. The ladies wore elegant evening gowns, their makeup meticulously applied, and their hair impeccably styled. Surprisingly, I was remarkably calm. A year ago, this situation would have sent me into a panic. My grandfather had declared that ninety percent of his shares in all his companies would be transferred to my uncle if he was able to get married before his thirty-fourth birthday. Despite the anticipation and rumours, no news of Harry's engagement or marriage had surfaced, so I knew I would soon succeed my grandfather. I would soon be in charge of a multi-million business empire. I didn't know much about Harry Smith, and since he was no longer standing between my grandfather's wealth and me, I was open to seeing him. I took my seat at the closest table, and not long after, I heard the voice of Jim Moore, my grandfather's trusted Personal Assistant. He announced the presence of my grandfather and his wife, and a round of applause followed. The pair walked over to their reserved seat, and my uncle was announced. "....Put your hands together as we welcome Harry Smith," Jim said. A tall, slim man walked in and shook hands with Jim. He was a remarkably handsome man. Harry Smith combined the features of my grandfather and his former supermodel mother beautifully. He smiled and waved and took his seat beside his father. The rest of the celebration went on smoothly. The following morning, I woke up to an email calling for a board meeting. As I prepared for the meeting, I had a feeling I would be named the director of the 'Smith and Smith group of companies. While the rest of the board waited for the arrival of my grandfather. My nonchalant father was not present. He was probably somewhere in a yacht or a luxury hotel in the company of a supermodel or social media influencer. My father was the typical example of an entitled person. He spent money recklessly and couldn't be bothered to work for it. His father was a billionaire, and that was enough for him. My grandfather finally arrived in the company of his PA and Harry, my uncle. I have been the one working and toiling for the company, so I waited with a smile, my celebratory champagne already cooling off in a refrigerator in my office. "I have some important information I need to pass to the board," my grandfather said. I nod smiling, 'this was my moment ', I thought to myself. Stephen's voice, though firm, carried a tremor of emotion. "I am so happy to have worked with all of you. And I hope you will give the next director the same support you have given me all these years. Effective immediately I will be stepping down from the helm of this company, a legacy I built with every one of you. it's time for a new chapter." Stephen paused. Everyone listened intensely. He gestured towards Harry, who sat beside him, I could see the genuine pride on my grandfather's face, "With immense faith, I introduce your new Director – Harry Smith." "I hope the same support you have given me will now be extended to the new Director of this company," Stephen said. Thunderous applause erupted, echoing in the boardroom. All eyes turned to Harry, who rose, a shy smile gracing his lips. As he addressed the board, I looked at his lips moving, but I wasn't listening anymore. I was angry. Frozen in shock, I felt the weight of the announcement hanging heavily in the air. I couldn't believe it. My grandfather had picked his son over me. Surrounded by an atmosphere charged with suppressed rage, I realized every calculated move I had made, every dedication to the company, was tailored for this very moment – to inherit the legacy my grandfather had painstakingly built. Now, my dreams lay shattered, replaced by the foundation of another. My blood pounded relentlessly, drowning out the congratulatory messages and backslaps Harry received. A bitter taste lingered in my mouth as our eyes met, and at that moment, a battle line was drawn. The air hung heavy in the boardroom. I got up abruptly, "Grandpa, this is unacceptable," I blurted out, rising abruptly from my seat. My voice, usually composed and measured, trembled with suppressed anger. "How can this be?" I continued, ignoring the surprised stares of the board members. "I thought Uncle Harry's 'grace period' ended last year. You promised..." My grandpa, looking disappointed and frustrated, raised his hand, telling me to stop before I could say more. "Matthew," he said, sounding firm but tired, "let's talk about this at home. It's not good to share our family problems in front of others." Then, he turned and gave me a serious look before taking Uncle Harry out of the room. The door closed behind them, and I was left alone in the quiet room. The celebratory atmosphere had vanished. I felt robbed. I needed an explanation as to why my uncle was announced as the person taking over Grandfather's companies instead of me. The wait for dinner felt like an eternity. I paced my room, each hour stretching into an agonizing minute. Every tick of the clock mocked my shattered dreams and shattered trust. To numb the sting, I poured myself a glass of wine, then another, the warmth doing little to soothe the turmoil within. When I got to the house, they were already seated. My grandfather's wife was seated beside him while he was at his position at the head of the table. I was surprised to see my father at the table. My mother was probably somewhere in a luxurious hotel nursing a champagne flute enjoying the wealth she gold dug herself into by giving birth to me. I noticed my uncle was not in attendance, 'it's best', I thought to myself. I needed to air my grievances to my grandfather, and it was best that my uncle was not around to hear it. After the desert was finished, I knew it was time to speak, "Grandpa, you gave Harry up to the end of last year to get himself a wife or forfeit the company. You gave him two years to do so, and he failed to do that. I have been here slaving for you while everyone else enjoys the wealth, "I stated. My grandfather was quiet, so I continued, "I thought you were a man of your word. Is it because I am a product of your bastard's son's fling with the maid? "I asked. He cleared his throat and looked up at me, Stephen Smith was a handsome man even for his age. At seventy-three, he looked like a man in his late fifties. " I keep telling you to observe more than you talk," Stephen said and sank back into the chair. My father got up and walked out, I wasn't surprised that he walked out. He had never cared or ever stood up for me. Paris Smith, my grandfather's wife, practically raised me alongside my uncle, her son, until things took a different turn for her. "Your uncle is married," my grandfather said. "What did you say?"I asked. "They will both be with us shortly. They were supposed to be part of this dinner, "he said calmly. I couldn't believe my ears. A thousand questions ran through my mind. When did he get married? Who did he get married to? How long have they been married? How long did my grandfather know? I heard footsteps, and I turned to see my uncle walk in. "Good evening Dad, Good evening Mom," he greeted. "Hello Matthew", He said to me as he took a seat beside his mother. "Where is this beautiful wife of yours, we are all eager to see her," my grandfather said, I could hear the eagerness in his voice. "She was taking a call, she will be with us shortly," Uncle Harry said. A few seconds after, footsteps approached, "Here she is," Harry said. I looked up and in walked Anastasia.ANASTASIA After three long years, Matthew hadn't changed a bit. He was still very handsome. Those once captivating blue eyes, which I used to get lost in now, looked at me with so much surprise. As I stood before him, uncertainty gripped me. I hadn't known how I would feel seeing him again after I ran just hours before our wedding. Yet seeing him made all my feelings for him to return. The scent of him brought back a lot of memories, I remembered the times I ran my fingers through his beautiful hair. For years, the only way I kept tabs on him was by reading about him from gossip columns in magazines, social media, and financial magazines. Standing just a few feet away, the truth hit me – I was still in love with him. He had this sophistication and sexiness that made me giddy and wet. Dressed in a navy blue tuxedo, he exuded timeless elegance, a sight that made my heart ache. "Anastasia," he whispered as he stared into my eyes. "What is she doing here?"Matthew asked as he sp
ANASTASIA "Anastasia," I heard my name again. I opened my eyes and found Harry in my room. "I am sorry," he mumbled and quickly walked out. I sat up and wiped the beads of sweat that had dripped all over my body. "It was a dream," I whispered to myself. Feeling aroused and a little bit ashamed, I descended from the bed and made my way to the bathroom. Glancing at the wall clock, I realized I had overslept; it was already eight o'clock. I ran a warm bath, adding my rose-scented shower gel and a few drops of my favourite essential oils. I removed my nightwear and slipped into the bathtub. An hour later, I was dressed and seated at the dining table, ready for breakfast. The maid, Maria, who had introduced herself earlier, informed me that Harry was in a virtual meeting and would be joining me soon. I wasn't looking forward to seeing him, not after what had just happened that morning in my bedroom. "Why did he even come into my bedroom without my permission?" I mumbled to myself.
ANASTASIA The man in the grey suit sat and listened attentively throughout my interview. A subtle smile was on his lips. After the interview, as I left the building, my mind replayed the entire encounter, the questions, my answers, and most prominently, the mysterious Mr. Grey Suit. Reaching home, I found Mia laying down on the couch with a tub of popcorn balanced on her lap. "So, how was it?" Mia asked. "How did the interview go? Did you wow them with your HR expertise?" I sat down on the opposite end of the couch, i sighed and looked up at Mia. "I think I might have… stuck my foot in my mouth," I confessed, I narrated my entire interaction with the handsome stranger. Mia's eyes widened in surprise. "You told him to go home and change because he looked too rich?" She asked and started laughing She laughed so hard tears started flowing from her eyes. "Oh, Anastasia! What were you thinking?" I buried my face in a throw pillow, mortified. "I don't know", I exclaime
HARRY The second Matthew said, "What is she doing here?", I knew there was some serious baggage between him and Anastasia. My parents looked at each other and I could see that there was a lot I didn't know. After Matthew walked out, I became even more confused. "Why did it have to be her?", My Dad muttered, "I don't understand," I said. Mom, ever the voice of reason, dropped a bombshell. "Son," she said gently, " didn't you know that Anastasia was engaged to Matthew? Your nephew." My jaw hit the floor. I whipped my head around to look at Anastasia, expecting some kind of explanation. But she wouldn't meet my gaze. The revelation hung heavy in the air, adding another layer to the already suffocating silence. The air grew thick with tension, and the car ride back home stretched into an eternity. I kept stealing glances at Anastasia, hoping she'd finally break the silence and explain everything. But she didn’t, I finally spoke up, "why didn't you tell me that you were
Anastasia As I descended the stairs, nothing prepared me for Matthew. He looked as handsome as ever, Matthew could always feel out a suit beautifully. "Hello Matthew," I said casually, trying not to sound bothered or flustered by his presence. I could see that Harry was as surprised to see him as I was. "Hello, Ana," Matthew replied with a coy smile. The door swung open, and Harry's parents entered. "Welcome Mom, Welcome Dad", Harry said as he walked over to his parents. He kissed his mom on both cheeks and shook hands with his dad. "Sorry your nephew had to tag along," Herbert said, and Harry waved it off, "it's ok, Dad, Matthew is family." It was not okay by me, I could feel his eyes all over me, and whenever I raised my head, I would find him looking at me. I lowered my eyes and tried avoiding his gaze, 'I just have to get through this evening', I reminded myself. 'How hard can that be?', I asked myself. "You look fantastic, dear," Harry's mom said as she wal
It was really Harry. Anastasia looked at him, and she couldn't speak. He just turned and walked out. Anastasia was confused, she was unsure whether to go after him or go back inside. A decision had to be made fast and just as she was still contemplating, she heard Matthew call, " Sweetheart,". "Who is at the door?" Matthew asked from inside. Anastasia quickly made a decision. "A lady," she answered and came back inside, shutting the door behind her. "Why didn't she come in?" Matthew asked. Anastasia continued her lie, "She just saw me and left." "That is strange," Matthew said. This was her chance to confront him. "Is it really strange that you're a cheat? That you cheated on me throughout our relationship? Or is it more strange that I'm here with you after how badly you treated me?" she said, pouring out her feelings. "Anastasia, I swear on my life, I never cheated on you. I love you dearly. You hurt me when you left without a word, no explanation, no closure," Matthew
"Before you say anything", Harry said. "It's important I let you know what is at stake. If you decide to walk away from our little arrangement", Harry said. Anastasia knew she had beaten much more than she could chew. "After I tell you my family history you may understand my plight", Harry said before he started his story. " My grandmother, Paris and Matthew's grandmother were best of friends. It's as though they were joined at the hip. So it came as a shock to Megan when Paris told her that she now had a boyfriend", Harry said. Anastasia listened intently as Harry kept narrating his family history, Anastasia was drawn into as she imagined everything Matthew said. ****** "I now have a boyfriend ", Paris had said to her friend with a dreamy look in her eyes. "You're kidding right?", Megan asked and Paris shook her head, "It's Stephen Smith", Paris said. "When did this happen ", Megan questioned her friend, completely baffled. "We met during summer camp and I just
"Yes, I am," Anastasia answered, and Harry's face fell. "I thought he cheated on me," Anastasia began to explain. She told Harry everything that happened, from the video she received showing Matthew sleeping with another woman to the discussion she had with Matthew at his house. "That day you saw me at his house. I only went there because he begged me to come over so that he could explain things to me. "Anastasia rambled on, but Harry kept silent. "I never set out to hurt you. I didn't know I was still in love with Matthew until I set my eyes on him. I regret running off and not talking to him after I received that video on the morning of our wedding. Now that I know that he was not the person in the video, I can't hold myself back from being with him, "Anastasia said. Harry sat really still, and Anastasia became worried, "Please say something," Anastasia begged. She went closer to him and took his hand in hers, "I never meant to hurt you..." "Cut the crap and say some
Anastasia was about to speak when the door creaked open. In strode Stephen Smith, Stephen’s eldest son and Matthew’s father, his presence commanding immediate attention. His sharp suit and the frown on his face gave him the air of someone who had walked into a battlefield uninvited but ready to fight. Stephen turned slowly to look at his first son, his disapproval was evident on his face. “Well, it’s nice of you to join us, Herbert,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “I trust you’re here to fix the mess your son has created.” Herbert’s gaze landed on Matthew, whose smugness had momentarily been replaced by unease, and then on Anastasia, who stood stiffly, her fists clenched at her sides. "What mess?" Herbert asked coolly, though his expression suggested he already had an idea. Before anyone could respond, Anastasia stepped forward. Her voice was clear but the nervousness she was feeling could be felt in the tremble of her voice. "Nothing happened between Matthew and me
Stephen's booming voice sliced through the tension. "Matthew, have you lost your mind? Can someone explain what is going on here?" Herbert said as he gestured to the projector screen, where an incriminating photo of Anastasia and Matthew was frozen mid-display. He stared at everyone in the room before fixing his gaze on Matthew, who stood at the head of the table. "You see, Grandpa," Matthew began, his voice dripping with mock civility, "my dear uncle here has a very unstable home. His wife is clearly—" "Matthew, take my wife’s name out of your mouth," Harry growled, his voice low and menacing. The tension in the room reached a boiling point. Board members shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "This is outrageous!", Mr. Carter, the oldest member of the board, said. He pushed his glasses up his nose, glaring at Matthew. "Do you think this is a circus? This is unacceptable and very shameful for the Smith family.", Mr Carter added. Across the table, Mrs. Green leaned forward
The boardroom was bathed in natural light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp contrasts on the polished oak table and leather chairs. A large projector screen at one end of the room remained dormant, one of the assistants came in and turned it on and connected it to a computer, prepping incase it was to be used for a presentation. Anastasia sat stiffly beside Harry, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her notepad. Across from her, Matthew reclined in his chair, an air of smugness clinging to him like a second skin. The room buzzed with murmurs as board members shuffled papers and exchanged polite nods. Paris, Harry's mother, sat at the far end of the table, her hawk-like gaze scanning the room. She was impeccably dressed, her navy blue suit perfectly tailored, her hair was pinned back in an elegant chignon. She radiated authority, her presence commanding silent respect from everyone in the room. Anastasia avoided Matthew’s gaze, but she could feel
Paris sat frozen in Blake’s car, her tears drying against her cheeks. Blake’s words hung heavy in the air. "Herbert never betrayed you," Blake said softly, her hands trembling on the steering wheel. Paris blinked, her mind struggling to process the words. “What do you mean?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I saw them… together. I saw it with my own eyes.” Blake exhaled sharply and turned to face Paris. Her expression was a mixture of guilt and determination, as though she’d been carrying this truth for far too long. “Paris, listen to me,” Blake began, her voice shaking. “What you saw wasn’t what you think it was. Herbert didn’t betray you. Megan… she planned everything. She drugged him.” Paris recoiled as though she’d been slapped. “What?” Her voice rose, disbelief lacing her tone. “You’re saying Megan—my best friend—did this intentionally? That she… drugged Herbert?” Blake nodded, her eyes brimming with regret. “Yes. Megan was jealous of you, Paris. She envied e
The two days before the board meeting had come and gone. The meeting with the private investigator had been emotional and nerve-wracking for Anastasia. As Anastasia applied her makeup, before the time set for the board meeting, the mirror seemed to blur, not from the mascara she meticulously brushed onto her lashes but from the weight of her thoughts. Her hands slowed as she remembered the day Harry's mother had caught her kissing Matthew. The memory was vivid, as though it had happened only yesterday. The whole incident replayed in her mind, transporting her to that day. She had followed Harry's mother into the sitting room, and they had begun to talk. "I don't know if Harry has told you what transpired between Matthew's grandmother Megan and me," " she had started, "Megan was my best friend. We were like two peas in a pod until Herbert came along. He was just a handsome bookworm with very big dreams, but slowly, he began to capture my attention. My friend Megan discourag
As Natasha settled into the driver’s seat, her hands trembled slightly as they gripped the steering wheel. She stared blankly at the quiet street, but her mind replayed Bernice’s words like a haunting melody: “Life on the streets was hard. Men... everywhere.” Her throat tightened, and she instinctively placed a protective hand over her belly. Her baby wasn’t even born, yet the thought of her child enduring such horrors was unbearable. A surge of nausea twisted her stomach, followed by a wave of guilt. How could any parent abandon their child like that? she thought bitterly. Her father’s face flashed in her mind—his stern but warm expression as he taught her to ride a bike, his strong arms lifting her onto his shoulders during family outings. Her chest ached with the realization of how much she had taken for granted. “Damien and Bernice deserved better,” Natasha murmured, her voice trembling. Her vision blurred as tears gathered in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away.
Bernice’s words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating Natasha as she waited for what would come next. The room felt smaller now, as though the walls were closing in. Bernice took a deep breath, her icy demeanour softening slightly, though her eyes never lost their sharp edge. “I stayed out of Damien’s life,” she began, “because I became something... something he couldn’t protect anymore. I became his weakness.” “His weakness? What do you mean?”, Natasha asked. Bernice leaned back in her chair, her hands clasped on the table. “When Damien joined the Mafia, he made enemies. Powerful ones. Men who don’t forget a grudge.” Natasha’s heart pounded. “What happened?” “For a while, we were untouchable. Damien was meticulous. But then they found out about me.” Bernice’s voice dropped to a whisper, and Natasha had to strain to hear her. “They came after me to get to him. I was kidnapped and held for weeks. Tortured. And Damien... he lost control.” Natasha gasped, her hand c
"No, he didn't kill any of them. I took care of them, "Bernice said. Natasha gasped, her hand instinctively moving to her stomach. “ So you killed them?” Bernice tilted her head, studying her. “I prefer to say I protected my brother. You understand that, don’t you? You’d do anything to keep Anastasia safe, wouldn't you ?.” At the mention of her sister's name, Natasha froze. She could feel Bernice’s gaze boring into her, as though daring her to object. Natasha’s chest tightened as Bernice’s words sank in. Her fingers trembled under the table, and she clenched them into fists, trying to steady herself. It became clear that Bernice could be more dangerous than her brother. She was even too afraid to ask how she knew about her sister. “I know what you’re thinking,” Bernice said, her voice calm, almost soothing. “You judged me by my looks —soft-spoken, well-dressed—and you assume I’m harmless. They thought the same thing.” She leaned forward, her icy blue eyes piercing. “But when
Natasha sat at the corner table, her eyes darting to every person who walked into the cosy restaurant. The low hum of people talking and the clinking of cutlery only added to her anxiety. She placed a trembling hand on her stomach, her baby bump was not yet visible but it felt comforting. Though Natasha tried to calm herself, her heart raced, as she kept glancing at the entrance. Her thoughts swirled in a storm of doubt. What if this was a mistake? What if this "Bernice" wasn’t who she claimed to be? Once again Natasha remembered her unborn child, and she knew what was at stake. The door opened, and a tall, stunning blonde walked in, instantly drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room. She was dressed in a fitted blue gown that matched her strikingly icy blue eyes. Her heels clicked softly against the tiled floor as she strode with confidence, scanning the room until her gaze landed on Natasha. Natasha stiffened. The woman approached her table and, without hesitation,