Mr. Timberlake sat in silence for a while, pondering the weight of Jackson's words. Could it be true? Could Amelia have been deceiving him all along? Could John not be his son? He shook his head, trying to clear the doubts that had begun to creep into his mind. No, he couldn't let Jackson's accusations get to him. He needed to see Amelia, to hear her side of the story. He needed to know the truth. He picked up his phone and dialed a number, his mind racing with possibilities. "Get the car ready, I'm heading to the hospital to see Amelia," he barked into the receiver. "Yes, sir," his driver replied, his voice crisp and efficient. As he stood to leave, his sister Gloria stepped into his path, her eyes filled with concern. "Where are you going, brother?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle. Mr. Timberlake's expression turned cold, his jaw clenched in determination. "That's none of your business, Gloria. Just stay where you are and don't interfere with my business," he growled, hi
Amelia thought frantically, trying to come up with a convincing lie. But as she looked into Mr. Timberlake's eyes, she knew she couldn't escape the truth. She took a deep breath and whispered, "It's Uncle Smith. It happened a long time ago, even before I married Jackson. He...he took advantage of me, raped me, and then blackmailed me into keeping quiet." She covered her eyes, fear trembling in her voice. "I couldn't bring myself to tell Jackson. I was ashamed and scared. If there was a way to get rid of Uncle Smith, I would. I've been trapped in this nightmare for so long." The room remained silent, Amelia's heart pounding in her chest. She slowly opened her eyes, whispering, "Father..." Mr. Timberlake's expression twisted in anger. "Don't 'father' me," he growled, closing the gap between them. His hands wrapped around her neck, his grip tightening. "Who is the father of the child?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing. Amelia flinched, her voice barely audible. "It's...it's
As they sped into the distance, the night swallowing them whole, Amelia gazed out the window, her mind racing with thoughts of freedom. The darkness outside seemed to mirror the darkness she had left behind, but she knew she was headed toward a brighter and better future. Only if she has changed her goal. Meanwhile, back at Jackson's apartment, he sat in his room, surrounded by shadows. The soft glow of the lamp beside him cast a warm light on the old album he pulled out, its pages yellowed with a bit of age. The first photo showed him and Emily, now Ava, on their wedding day. He couldn't help but smile as he remembered the joy and love they had shared.As he gazed at the picture, a flashback washed over him, transporting him back to that magical day.He stood at the altar, his black hair combed perfectly, his eyes fixed on the entrance. The surroundings were bright, filled with sunlight streaming through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the floor. The atten
Ava walked into Madmus Estate, surrounded by a flurry of reporters, all clamoring to ask her questions about the new changes and her feelings about regaining her father's company. The air was electric with anticipation, and Ava's presence only added to the excitement. She had released a press briefing earlier, revealing her true identity as Emily Greenfield, and the media was eager for more. Now, She was the latest trending Hit!Emily Greenfield a.k.a Ava Richardson is Back!The swamp of reporters rushed to block her from entering the estate, to clear their doubts on the new information. As she stopped in her tracks, a reporter from a prominent news channel shouted, "Ms. Greenfield, or should I say, Ms. Richardson, can you confirm that you're officially back and seeking justice against the Timberlake? What does this mean for the future of Madmus Estate?"Ava's expression turned determined, her eyes flashing with a fierce inner light. "I'm officially back, and I will take back everyt
The meeting with the stakeholders was already underway, with everyone seated and waiting for Jackson's arrival. As he entered the room, they all stood up to greet him, except for Ava, who remained seated and relaxed, her eyes fixed on Jackson with a hint of amusement.Jackson cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, and made his way to his seat at the head of the table. "Let's get started, shall we?" he said, trying to sound confident.One of the stakeholders, a middle-aged man with a stern expression, spoke up. "Jackson, before we begin, I have to ask. Did you really steal the company from Ava, or should I say, Emily Greenfield? Because the story you told us about her willing the company over to you doesn't quite add up."Jackson shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to cover his lies. "Well, it's not exactly like that. Ava and I had an agreement, a contractual arrangement..."Ava raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical, but she remained silent, letting Jackson dig hims
Uncle Smith sat in the prison cafeteria, eating his lunch, when a warden approached him. "Hey! Fool, you have a call. Come with me to answer it." The warden's voice was firm and very unkind.Uncle Smith's curiosity was piqued as he followed the warden to the phone stand. Who could be calling him? He hadn't had a visitor in weeks, and his phone calls were few and far between. As he walked, he wondered if it might be his lawyer, calling with some update on his case. Or maybe it was a friend, checking in to see how he was doing.But as he reached the phone stand and picked up the receiver, he heard a voice that made his heart skip a beat. "Hello, Uncle Smith," Amelia said, her voice warm and familiar.He immediately looked around, covering the speaker with his hand, whispering harshly, "Amelia? What’s going on? Why are you just calling me now? Why haven't I been released yet? Have you forgotten about me? I thought you were working on getting me out of here."Amelia's voice was apologetic
After Uncle Smith ended the call, the warden approached him, "Hey, you've got a visitor."Uncle Smith followed the warden to a room that looked like an interrogation room. The walls were a drab gray, and the floor was made of worn linoleum. The air was thick with the smell of stale cigarettes and sweat. In the center of the room, an iron chair sat, its surface scratched and rusted. Uncle Smith was led to the chair, his hands cuffed behind his back as he sat down.The door to the room opened, and a man in a black suit walked in. He was average in height, with a forgettable face and a receding hairline. His eyes were a dull brown, and his nose was slightly too large for his face. He wore a white shirt with a black tie, and his suit pants were creased from sitting.The man sat down in a chair across from Uncle Smith, his eyes fixed on him with a neutral expression. Uncle Smith looked him up and down, trying to read his face."Who are you?" Uncle Smith asked his voice firm despite the unc
The next day, Amelia sat beside Mr. Timberlake's hospital bed, her eyes fixed on his frail form. Half of his face was paralyzed, a stark reminder of the stroke he had suffered. But as she gazed at him, her attention was diverted to the TV screen mounted on the wall. Breaking news flashed on the screen, and Amelia's heart skipped a beat as she saw a man covered in white cloth being carried on a cart inside an emergency bus. The news caster's voice was somber, "Tragedy struck last night at the local prison, where inmate Smith Greenfield was found dead in the prison toilet. Authorities are still investigating the circumstances surrounding his death."Amelia rose to her feet, trembling uncontrollably as tears streamed down her face. She felt like she had been punched in the gut, her breath knocked out of her. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She had hoped that Uncle Smith would be released, that he would be safe. But now, he was gone.Even though she didn’t want him anywhere aro