Chapter 22
I woke up late, satin sheets tangled around my legs, hair perfectly curled from the night before, and that smug little grin still resting on my lips after the press interview. The headlines were soft on me, almost worshipful. “Survivor. Philanthropist. Woman of Strength.” And why wouldn’t they be? I gave them tears, I gave them trauma. I gave them a narrative and a well–lit face with mascara streaks right where they needed to be.
I was pouring my oat milk into that boring organic cereal when the knock came at the front gate.
I barely looked up until one of the guards walked in, sweating like he’d just seen the devil. In his hands, this ridiculously elegant red velvet box. No label. No card. No return. Just pristine and expensive, and obviously meant for me.
I smirked and reached for it.
“Finally. Someone with taste.”
I flipped it open, expecting an invite or at least some expensive apology from one of the men crawling back after I ghosted them.
Instead… I saw him.
One of the abductors. His fucking head. Still. Eyes open. Lips sewn shut like some sick goddamn warning. Dried blood. Rotted edges. Neck torn rough.
“Ahhhh!” I screamed so loud my voice cracked my throat tore.
My legs gave out and I hit the vase table so hard it shattered like my sanity. I crawled back, hands shaking, heartbeat pounding in my eardrums.
The guard backed out like he saw death himself and I pulled out the note that was tucked beneath the head like a gift tag from hell.
> Let this be the first lesson in remembering who you tried to erase. – C
I choked. I screamed again. “IT’S HER! IT’S HARMONY, I KNOW IT!”
My hands were trembling and I could barely unlock my phone, but I called my father–the senator. No answer. Again. Voicemail. I screamed.
“ANSWER ME, DAMN IT!”
I dialed Hakeem. No answer. I dialed again. Straight to voicemail.
“Baby–pick up. Pick up. We have a problem. She’s coming back. She’s sending me heads, Hakeem. I swear it’s her. We need to move. We need to erase her–NOW!”
I didn’t wait. I called Marlo, Hakeem’s little pitbull.
“Where is he?” I barked.
Marlo said in that too–calm voice, “Mr. Masterson is visiting the location of Harmony’s last
My Husband Begged for My Love after Destroving Me
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sighting. An old church downtown. Quiet area. No threats.”
I grit my teeth. “You moron–she’s not in the damn church. She’s in Hollywood! She’s on TV! Her name is CELESTE!”
Marlo hesitated. “Ma’am… with all due respect, we didn’t get any credible pings tied to that
name.
N
I hung up.
“Useless,” I hissed under my breath and screamed at the guards to burn the box and everything inside. “And bleach the damn floor. I don’t want even the smell of this bitch in my house.”
I was still panting when the front door opened.
Hakeem walked in.
But his eyes weren’t no warmth, not even that tired little flicker of protectiveness he used to give me.
Ort like they used to be. There was no apology
O
He dropped a thick white envelope on the table like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.
“Sign it.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You can keep the house,” he said flatly. “But I’m done playing husband to a liar.
My voice cracked, and I laughed in disbelief. “You’re leaving me? Over HER? Over some
manipulating-
actress with his ex’s face?! Hakeem, she faked her death. She‘?
“Sign it, Margaret.”
I dropped to my
a tragic movie.
knees. I reached for his hand, clinging, trembling like some lovesick girl in
“I did everything for you, Hakeem! Everything! You married me. You whipped her–for me! I’m your first love. I’m the one you waited for, the one you always wanted. You said that. Over and over. Are you drunk? Or maybe you’re anymore. You’re not Hakeem -you’re some fake, cold, shell who forgot how much he loved me!”
not even you
2
W
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just stared at me with those eyes like I was dirt under his damn shoes.
He said in that low voice that used to love me, “And that’s my biggest regret. Choosing you. Hurting her… for you.”
And then he turned.
He walked away.
No.
No. No. No.
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I gasped. Clutched my chest. Stumbled back and collapsed to the floor, “I can’t… breathe-”
The maid screamed. Rushed to me. Another one called Hakeem in panic. And like
clockwork…he turned back.
He ran to me.
Scooped me into his arms.
“Get the damn car,” he growled, cradling me like I wasn’t a living storm. “Now!”
My eyes fluttered open just enough to catch Marilou smallest nod. She blinked once in reply.
y most loyali
She knew what to do. Follow. Pay. Control the damn n
stolen face beats me to it.
Waid. I
gave her the
before that actress with my before that
They brought me to a private suite at the Luciente Medical Pavilion. White sheets. Calming piano music. Hidden cameras rolling in case I needed to spin another statement for the media. I lay there under the softest blanket while doctors rushed around, and Hakeem stood at the side like he didn’t want to be there–but was.
I could hear them whispering. I was listening.
“Mrs. Masterson is two months pregnant,” one of the doctors said carefully. “She collapsed from high stress and shock, but her vitals are stable. She’ll wake up soon. The baby’s okay for now.”
And just like that? His face froze.
He walked out of the room like someone punched him in the chest.
I heard him outside the door. Calling Marlo.
“Any update on Harmony?”
Marlo’s voice crackled from the other line. “That woman’s like an eel, sir. We almost caught her near the old alley exit. She wore a cap, sunglasses, even cut her hair short, but our men know. She’s Harmony.”
*
=
“Catch her sooner,” Hakeem snapped. “I’m done with her fucking games.”
+
#
The door shut behind him. I lay there still. Until I knew he was gone. Then I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.
“She’s playing with you, Hakeem. She’s playing with all of us.” I sat up slowly, cradling my belly like it was a crown. “She’s Celeste. She’s Harmony. She’s coming back to ruin me. But I will never let that happen. She won’t take mine.”
I leaned my head back on the pillow and cussed. If only I’m pregnant for real.
