CHAPTER 12

A girl, about her age, was already throwing daggers with her eyes.

“Are you blind, Miss?” the girl snapped, brushing invisible dirt off her outfit.

Angelie blinked. “You weren’t looking your way either; that makes both of us blind.”

With that, she grabbed her rolling suitcase and continued walking, her head high. A small grin played on her lips. Where did I get such courage? She wondered. Maybe it really does feel good to stand up for yourself.

As she dragged her luggage down the hall, another girl about her age caught up with her, her voice light and cheerful.

“I love what you did back there,” the girl said. “That’s Sonia. She acts like she owns the place. Totally intimidated by how beautiful you are.”

Angelie blinked at her, still trying to process what had just happened.

“I’m Flora,” the girl added quickly. “You must be new. And wow, you’re really stunning. Like, runaway model beautiful.”

Angelie blushed slightly. She’d heard compliments about her looks before, but somehow hearing it from this complete stranger felt sincere.

“Thank you,” she replied shyly.

“Where are you heading?” Flora asked.

“I’m trying to find the registry. I’m completely lost.”

“No worries. Come with me. I know this school inside out.”

Flora helped her navigate through the halls, chatting nonstop as they reached the registry.

After a few papers and a warm welcome from the admin staff, Angelie was handed her schedule, a map of the campus, and a room assignment.

“No way!” Flora squealed, glancing at the room list. “You’re my roommate!”

Angelie looked at her, half-laughing. “Seriously?”

“This is going to be fun! You’ll love it here. Well, aside from Sonia and her squad. But don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Angeli was enjoying her company.

They headed toward the dorm room. Flora flung open the door with a dramatic flourish. It was a cozy space with two single beds, a desk, and a shared wardrobe, neat and tidy.

The room smells nice too.

Angelie dropped her suitcase beside one bed.

“This is really nice,” she said softly.

Later that day, Angelie was introduced to the rest of the class. The instructor, Chef Emily, was warm and welcoming..

“This is Angelie Smith,” she said. “Let’s make her feel welcome.”

Most students smiled or nodded.

Except Sonia.

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her eyes slicing through Angelie.

Beside her sat her two girls who nodded when she did and giggled on command. The Trio, as Flora called them.

The class went on peacefully. Angelie focused on the instructions, jotting down notes, feeling more grounded with each passing minute, she was enjoying the moment.

Then the door opened.

A guy stepped in.

Tall, strong shoulders, smooth caramel skin, tousled dark hair that looked effortlessly styled. He wore a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a pair of tailored black jeans. He was the kind of good-looking that made people stop mid-sentence.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he said.

Even his voice was smooth.

The girls around the room suddenly sat straighter. Even Sonia uncrossed her arms.

Flora leaned in. “That’s Damien,” she whispered. “He’s a big deal. A rising chef. Comes from serious money. No one knows why he joined this course, but girl…he’s smoky hot like a party rice.”

Angelie nodded with a polite smile, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

He’s handsome, she thought. But not as Jeffrey.

She tried to focus, but all she could picture was Jeffery’s eyes. His voice. The way he once kissed her in that elevator was like it meant everything.

*****************

Meanwhile, back in San Francisco, Jeffrey’s office was quiet.

The walls were soft grey, model buildings, and awards. A large glass window overlooked the city skyline. His desk was organized to perfection, and a picture of him with his mum on an expensive picture frame was the centre of attraction.

Jeffery sat in a crisp navy-blue shirt, the first two buttons undone, sleeves folded up to his arms' length. His black slacks were pressed, and his shoes polished. He looked sharp, as always.

He stared at a contract, trying to connect the dots.

The knock on the door made him sigh.

“Come in.”

Morris walked in, buttoning his jacket as he entered. He gave Jeffery a nod before sinking into the chair opposite him. He loosened his tie slightly.

Jeffery dropped the paper and leaned back.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, way too causal.

“Is that the best way to greet your father?” Morris replied, half-smiling.

Jeffery scoffed. “Let’s skip the warm-up. You didn’t come here to admire the ceiling.”

“I’m still your father.”

Jeffery’s jaw tightened. “You lost that title the moment you chose that other family over us.”

“Your mother…”

“Don’t,” Jeffery snapped. “You don’t get to say her name, not after what you did.”

“The only reason I’m talking to you is because of Grandpa,” he continued. “And the only reason I’m still respectful to Amaya is because she didn’t know you were married when she stepped in.”

Morris frowned. “I didn’t come to fight.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My father’s birthday. He’s turning seventy-two. I thought we could plan something together.”

Jeffery gave a dry laugh. “He’s my grandfather. I’ll make sure he’s celebrated. I understand what family means, even if some people don’t.”

Morris looked tired.

When he left, the office door clicked shut.

What neither of them knew was that Grandpa Lu had been standing outside.

He stepped in just after Morris exited.

“Forget something?” Jeffery said without looking up.

“The old man forgot to visit his grandson,” Grandpa replied, walking in with a small purse in one hand and his suit jacket folded over his arm. He wore a dark brown suit, sharp creases, not a hair out of place. For a man nearing seventy-two, he looked like he was in his early sixties.

Jeffery stood to greet him.

“Sit,” Grandpa said. “I didn’t come for a formal handshake.”

“What brings you here, Grandpa?” Jeffery asked.

“You should be resting your old bones.”

“Can’t an old man visit?”

“And who said that I’m old, huh?”

Jeffery gave a rare smile. “Sure.”

“I heard your conversation,” Grandpa added. “Don’t give me that look. You two were loud enough that I didn’t have to eavesdrop.”

Jeffery chuckled softly.

“I miss your mother,” Grandpa said, his voice softer now. “If money could’ve saved her, I’d have paid anything. But cancer doesn’t bargain.”

“I know.”

“Morris hasn’t been perfect, but don’t shut him out completely.”

Jeffery didn’t respond.

Grandpa leaned forward.

“If there’s one person still living a lie, it’s you, Jeff.”

Jeffery frowned. “What do you mean?”

Grandpa exhaled.

“Amaya wasn’t just some woman. Her late father was our gardener. Morris knew her well, too well. I didn’t see it until it was too late. I always wanted someone proper for my son. Someone like your mother. From a good family, polished, and beautiful.”

“But Grandpa…”

“There’s more to life than wealth, yes,” Grandpa said. “But choices have consequences. I didn’t approve of their marriage because I didn’t trust Amaya. And I was right. That boy, Lucas, is the result of their mess. Don’t believe the stories your father told you. Amaya knew Morris was married.”

Jeffery froze. The words cut deep.

“No… Grandpa…”

“Yes, son. I wish it weren’t true. But it is. You deserve to know. And the sooner you stop protecting lies, the sooner you can live free.”

With that, Grandpa stood, tossed his jacket over his shoulder, and walked out, leaving Jeffery speechless.

**************

Back at the culinary school, Angelie searched her bag.

“I left my map,” she muttered, looking down both ends of the hallway.

“Just how do I find my way, in this gigantic and massive building.

The halls were quiet. Most doors were shut. She tried to remember if she had turned left or right earlier. Everything looked the same.

She turned another corner and stepped into a room, hoping it was hers.

“Are you lost?”

The voice was deep, smooth.

She turned slowly.

Damien stood inside the room, arms folded, eyebrow raised.