Chapter 9
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That night, I went back to the hospital.
Margaret was lying on the bed, curled up under that pale pink blanket. Her eyes were puffy. Skin pale. She looked up at me when I walked in and her lip trembled like a little kid about to break.
“She’s turning everyone against me,” she whispered. “You’re next, aren’t you? You’ll leave
me too…”
I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into me. Her whole body was shaking.
“Stop,” I said, voice low. “Don’t say that shit, alright? No one’s touching you. You’re my girl now. And my woman don’t lose.”
She buried her face into my chest. I held her. Rocked her slow. Ran my hand through her hair and kissed the top of her head. Let her cry until she passed out again.
The nurses dimmed the lights. I stayed with her.
h
But later, when she was asleep and the room went quiet, I stepped out and pulled up the wedding footage on my phone.
There she was.
30
Harmony. Back row. Sitting in that lilac dress. Hair pulled back. Spine straight.
And that smile? That fucking smile. It wasn’t sad. It didn’t plead. It wasn’t some broken woman watching the man she lost get married again.
It warned me.
She was telling me, clear as day, that I was gonna regret everything. And maybe I fucking
will.
My cybersecurity team pinged in.
“The photos look real, sir. No obvious manipulation. No clear signs of editing. But we’ll run full forensic scans to be certain.”
“Do it faster,” I said. “I want a full breakdown. Timeline. Sources. Where they were pulled from. If they’re fake, I want to know what goddamn software she used and who helped
her.”
When I walked back into Margaret’s suite, she was sitting up, eyes wet.
“They’ll believe her…” she whispered. “They always do. The world loves a victim. I wasn’t supposed to survive, remember? People only like you when you stay dead.”
I walked over and sat beside her again. Cupped her cheek, made her look at me. “You think give a shit what people believe? I’m not going anywhere, Margaret. I got you. No one’s gonna touch you.”
Her eyes filled again. “Promise you won’t give those photos to the police. Or the press.
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Please. They’ll destroy me. Even if it’s fake, the media… they’ll never stop.”
I nodded. “Alright. They stay with me.”
She leaned into me and held my hand tighter. But inside, my head was spinning. And I kept thinking about that smile.
So I sat there while she drifted off again, and I stared out the window. If Harmony deepfaked those photos… if she really went that far just to humiliate me and Margaret on our wedding day?
She’ll pay. Ten times over.
I don’t give a fuck if she was my ex wife. She’s tied to me forever. That’s the deal. That’s the cost of wearing my name.
But if the pictures were real? If Margaret really did all that? Hell knows what I’ll do.bAnd I swear on everything I built…
Someone’s gonna bleed.
MARGARET’S POV
That night, while Hakeem slept beside me, I slipped out of the bed as quietly as I could. I walked over to the small desk by the corner, pulled the drawer open, and unlocked the burner phone tucked under the folders.
My hands didn’t shake. They never do when it matters.
I typed the amount. Six figures. Straight into crypto. No trace.
The recipient? That sweet little forensic analyst with a wife in remission and a mortgage in foreclosure. I knew he’d fold the second I offered.
“Upload the new report by sunrise,” I texted. “Make it official. Deepfakes. All of it.”
A few seconds later, the reply came in:
“Understood. Uploading in five. You’ll have what you need.”
I smiled. Slipped the phone back into the drawer. Turned and looked at Hakeem sleeping so peacefully. Like nothing could touch us.
He really was beautiful when he wasn’t angry. When he wasn’t broken by women like Harmony.
By morning, the report was done. Clean. Official. Signed.
“The photos are deepfakes, Sir. Al–generated. Not authentic. Manipulated.”
Just like I needed.
I waited until he finished his second cup of coffee before I brought it up. His mood was cold, his face unreadable, but I knew how to break through it.
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“I just…” I started, voice low, eyes glassy, “I don’t understand how she can hate me this much.”
He looked up, eyes narrowing slightly.
“I never wanted to come back here and cause problems, Hakeem. I thought Harmony moved on. But she… she never did. She always wanted to be the only woman in your life.”
I pulled out my phone and showed him the screenshots I’d planted weeks ago. Messages that made it look like Harmony was threatening me.
“You should’ve stayed dead. He was mine first.”
“You don’t deserve the ring or the life he gave me.”
He stared at them. He didn’t say much. But I could feel the shift in him. That storm behind his eyes. That quiet fury he tried to keep buried.
“She’s obsessed with you, Hakeem,” I whispered. “I never wanted this. I only came back because I thought it was safe.”
I let a single tear fall. I didn’t wipe it. I let it stay there. Let it speak for me.
#
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come back at all,” I said, curling my legs under me on the bed. “If I hadn’t shown up, none of this would’ve happened. The wedding… the scandal… I ruined your name. I ruined everything you built. I’m just… I’m a destroyer.”
He sat beside me, jaw clenched.
I kept going. “I’ve been thinking… maybe I should leave the country. Let the chaos settle. Go somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one knows my nam-
“No. We face this together. Let them talk. They don’t know you like I do.” He pulled me in. I let my head rest on his shoulder, my hand flat against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Malleable.
And then, just like I hoped… He called his men.
“Delete everything. Every leak. Every guest who took a picture–gone. Anyone who shares it, anyone who breathes it to the media, shut them down. If they talk, they won’t walk.”
That was my man. Ruthless to the world, gentle to me.
Hmp.
Then he leaned in and kissed me. Soft. Deep. And while his lips were on mine… I smiled inside. Because he was mine again.
And Harmony? She could run. She could hide.
But the only crown she ever wore was borrowed.
And I was here to take it back.
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