After an endless confrontation with Ray, Samira decided to go back to the restroom, her mind recalling Jeff's words
"Why don't you call her up and ask her about it? I would have loved to stay and chat, but I have something to do," Jeff said as he walked away, leaving Samira rooted to the ground. Still reeling from the revelation, Samira entered the restroom and immediately pulled out her phone to call Delly. There was no response. She couldn't believe she had been deceived. Delly couldn't have been so cruel as to allow her to come in her place only to betray her. Still shaking, she heard a knock on the restroom door. "Delly, are you in there? You're taking too long," Chris called, and she tried to calm herself, not wanting him to notice anything. Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the restroom and stared at the man Delly was meant to marry. "You were taking too long in there," he told her crisply. "Can you do me a favor?" she asked, trembling as she tried to maintain her composure. "Can you please do me a favor?" Chris was completely alarmed. Since he met Delly, she had never cried in front of him despite her fiery temper. He quickly hugged her, brushing his hands through her hair as he waited for her to calm down. "If it's within my power, I'll always do anything for you, Delly. Just name it." His words earned him a pinch on the shoulder as Samira laughed lightly. How on earth could she tell him he was wrong, that she was not the woman he was supposed to be hugging? Collecting her emotions, she told him what she wanted. "Can you take me back now?" she asked him. "Why? Are you bored with me?" Chris asked. Something was bothering her, but he was not going to pester her. Instead, he opted to ask if she didn’t want to spend time with him. "Just take me back, please," she insisted, and seeing the urgency in her eyes, he decided to comply. Delly sat in the car, her thoughts drifting away, not even noticing Chris staring at her through the whole ride. As soon as the car stopped in front of the hotel, she tried to leave only for him to take hold of her hand. "What's wrong? You've been like this ever since you left the restroom," he said, unable to hold back his anxiety. "You don't have to concern yourself with what happens to me. I am just a fake, after all," she said, not waiting to see his reaction before leaving the car and heading straight to the elevator. "A fake? What does she mean?" Chris muttered, staring at the hotel before driving off, still wondering what she meant by fake. He called his private investigator and asked him to look into Delly's background. He had seen how contradicting Delly had been acting. First, she claimed to be a spendthrift, but when he told her about the amount she had spent that day, she was frozen. Now her words were just so bizarre. As soon as she got to her room, she called Delly again, but still, there was no reply. Remembering something Jeff had told her, she decided to call her boss at the restaurant she used to work at in Victoria. "Delly? Delly stepped in for you for a while before she said you wanted to quit your job and left," her boss said. "And how long has it been since she quit her job?" she asked. "Days ago. Look, I have to get back to work. I suggest you call your friend yourself and ask," her boss said before ending the call. Delly had lied to her. She had told her to come here pretending to be her while she stepped in for her at work. While she had tried her best to help her, Delly had only created a mess for her back in Brookside. Samira lay on the bed, crying and hurt. She had trusted a friend only to be betrayed. Samira sat on the bed, dialing Delly's number for the last time. When there was no answer, as always, she ended the call and packed her suitcase, which only contained the clothes she came with. It had been a week since she discovered Delly's lies. Though she knew she owed no loyalty to Delly and should have left the same day she learned the truth, she still stayed. She hoped that somehow Delly would call her or perhaps try to reach her in some way, but there was nothing. Now a week had gone by, and it was time for her to go home. Taking her luggage, she went downstairs only to see Chris's bodyguards staring at her. "What's going on?" the leader among them asked. "I am sorry, but all this has been a farce," she said softly. "What do you mean by farce?" Mike asked. "I am not Delly. My real name is Samira. I am just a friend who was sent here by Delly to pretend to be her," Samira confessed while the two people standing in front of her stared in shock. "Say that again," a voice demanded suddenly. They all turned to see Chris standing by the doorway, staring at them. "What did you just say?" he asked as he walked further into the room. Ever since she found out the truth, she hadn't seen Chris because he had an important meeting in another country. "I am glad that you are here. It's time you all know the truth," she said. A while later, the guards and Mike left, shocked. Chris stood by the window, gazing out into the night without saying a thing. "What about the real Delly? Where is she?" he asked hoarsely. "I have no idea. After finding out about her deceit, I called, and up till this moment, she hasn't picked up," Samira told him. "You should have told me sooner! You lied your way here and pretended to be my fiancée when you are nothing but an imposter," he said harshly. "Yes, I am an imposter. An imposter who only wanted to help a friend, but I am glad you know the truth now. It's time I get going," she said as she stood up to leave. She was almost at the door when someone took hold of her hand. She turned to see it was Chris. "You aren't going anywhere," he told her softly. "Haven't you been listening to me at all? I am not the real Delly," she told him. "And? The real Delly isn't here. You are here, and therefore you will stay and keep on being Delly until we find her," he said harshly. "I can't stay here. I have my own life to live and— "You should have thought of that before taking someone else's identity," he cut into her words roughly. "You can't make me stay," she told him fiercely. "Really? Watch me then," he said as he moved away from her to call Mike inside. "Bring more of your men here to the hotel. There's someone here I need you to guard," he said, staring at Samira. Knowing that if Mike called for more guards there would be no way for her to leave, she thought of an escape. She saw his car keys on the table where he left them earlier. Moving towards them, she picked them up and dashed out of the suite, not bothering to take her suitcase. Her bag, which had all she needed, was right on her arm. She could hear him calling after her. Immediately she got into the car, she saw Mike running out of the hotel, but she quickly drove off. She was still driving when she got busy with her thoughts. If she made it to the airport on time, she would be able to leave without them stopping her. She was relieved when the flight took off minutes after she booked it.**NEW JERSEY CITY** Samira stood in front of the vast mirror, staring at herself in her wedding dress. The dress was exquisite, a vision of delicate lace and shimmering beads that caught the light with every slight movement. The bodice fit her perfectly, cinching her waist before flowing into a full, billowing skirt. The train trailed behind her like a cascade of snow, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the room. Yet, despite the beauty of the gown, she felt like an imposter. This marriage, this life she was about to step into, felt absurd and unreal, like a twisted fairy tale she couldn't escape. Ever since her escape a month ago, Chris Rays had caught her in the worst way she'd never thought possible. **Flashback...** When Samira reached the airport, she was determined to go back to Brookside. She bought an air ticket and waited for her departure, her heart racing with each passing minute. But as she sat there, her resolve wavered. Doubt gnawed at her, and when she saw Mike
Samira stood in front of the mirror, the delicate lace of her wedding gown feeling like chains tightening around her. Each breath seemed to come harder, as if the weight of her decisions was pressing down on her chest. She’d chosen this path not out of love, but out of sheer desperation—a desperate need to protect those she cared about, even if it meant sacrificing herself.The mirror reflected a woman on the edge, torn between survival and surrender. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but there was a steely resolve in her gaze. This wasn’t how she had imagined her wedding day, but the reality was far from any fairytale she had once dreamed of. The dress that clung to her body was a beautiful prison, a reminder of the life she was stepping into, one fraught with uncertainty and fear.As she forced herself to focus on the present, the door to the room creaked open. Samira’s heart skipped a beat as Chris Ray stepped inside, his presence dominating the space like a storm cloud ready
Samira entered the penthouse with an air of defiance, her posture stiff as she sensed Ray’s eyes on her. The luxurious space seemed to close in on her, amplifying the tension between them. Ray followed closely, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor, but she refused to acknowledge him. Every corner of the room seemed to harbor shadows of the turbulent past that had brought them to this moment. Ray moved towards the drinks cabinet with the nonchalance of someone entirely in control. As he poured himself a drink, Samira’s gaze was drawn to him despite herself. She couldn’t shake the unease that clawed at her insides. His earlier words and actions had left her with a gnawing sense of dread, one that she tried to mask with an icy exterior. "Stop looking like a frightened virgin, I won't leap on you," he said, his voice smooth but laced with sarcasm. He met her eyes with a knowing smirk, as if daring her to challenge him. "How can I be sure of that? You told me that you once
Samira slammed the door behind her, her heart pounding in her chest. She leaned against it for a moment, trying to calm her racing thoughts. The tension between her and Ray had reached a boiling point, and she had thought—hoped—that by retreating to her room, she could finally put some distance between them. But she was wrong. Just as she exhaled a breath of relief, she heard the unmistakable click of the door handle turning. Her eyes widened, and before she could react, Ray strode into the room, his expression set with a mixture of determination and amusement. He was not the kind of man to let anything slip through his fingers, least of all her. Samira took a step back, her pulse quickening. "Ray, what are you doing? Get out," she demanded, her voice wavering between command and plea. But Ray wasn’t deterred. He closed the door behind him with a soft thud, his eyes never leaving hers. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air
The soft rustle of curtains being drawn back pulled Samira from the depths of sleep. The early morning light filtered into her room, casting a gentle glow across the floor. She struggled to open her eyes, her body protesting the sudden intrusion of dawn. When she finally managed to blink herself awake, her vision focused on the figure standing at the window. Ray was already dressed, his sharp suit tailored to perfection, every inch of him the embodiment of controlled power. The sight of him, so composed and put together, filled her with an inexplicable annoyance. Why did he have to be so flawless, so utterly unbothered by everything that had transpired between them? As she sat up in bed, the silk sheets pooled around her waist, she felt an involuntary pang of irritation. Ray moved with a grace that seemed almost feline, his footsteps soundless on the plush carpet as he approached her. His presence filled the room, a force that demanded attention even in the quiet of the morning.
Samira had settled into the rhythms of her new, albeit isolated, life. The days blended into each other, punctuated by the occasional chatter of the staff and the endless flow of photographs and stories of Ray’s exploits. Each morning, she would rise early, determined to break free from the gilded prison that was the mansion. She would sit at the grand mahogany desk in her room, her laptop open, and search for jobs that could be her ticket to independence. Despite her efforts, the responses were few and far between. Companies were hesitant to hire someone with a sparse resume, a mysterious background, and a prominent surname that linked her to a man like Ray. It was a frustrating experience that threatened to sap her resolve. Yet, Samira pressed on, driven by the need to reclaim her life and her identity. Then, one morning, as the sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, her phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number. Her heart skipped a beat as she hesitantly answered
**~A MONTH LATER~** "Glad to have you back," Joey said, grinning as he offered a seat to Ray in his office. "I was only gone for a month, not like I've been gone for years," Ray replied, settling into the chair while keeping a suspicious eye on Joey, who was pretending to be engrossed in his paperwork. "But to me, you've been gone for quite a while. A married man shouldn’t be doing that," Joey teased, glancing up with a mischievous smile. "I might be married, but that doesn’t stop me from going on business trips. My wife hasn’t complained about that." Ray shrugged, pretending to be focused on the file in front of him, though he was secretly trying to gauge if Joey was leading up to something. "Talking about your wife, do you know what she’s been up to for a month now?" Joey asked, his tone suddenly more serious. Ray froze, his eyes narrowing at his friend. "What has she been doing?" he asked, his mind racing through all the possible mischief Samira could have gotten into
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, revealing Ray standing inside, his hand poised to step out. Samira, ready to board, froze at the sight of him, her heart skipping a beat. Ray’s eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside the elevator seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them in the stifling silence. Ray’s expression was unreadable, his sharp features masked with a calm that Samira knew all too well—a calm that always came before the storm. Her pulse quickened, but she refused to show any sign of weakness.She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin slightly, her gaze unwavering. “Ray,” she greeted coolly.“Samira,” Ray responded, his voice low and controlled, but there was a fire smoldering behind his eyes. He took a step forward, as if to exit, but then something in his expression shifted, a flash of determination crossing his face. Without another word, he stepped back, leaning against the side of the elevator, his eyes never leav