PROLOGUE
He stood before the mirror, its glassy surface reflecting the rugged landscape of his face. Chiseled features, carved from the stone of hardship and violence, stared back at him. Piercing black eyes, cold and unforgiving, seemed to bore into his own soul.
A sharp jawline, shaded by a scruff of dark stubble, framed full lips that curved into a cynical smile. The scar above his left eyebrow, a souvenir from a past encounter, added a menacing glint to his gaze.
His dark hair, cropped short, accentuated the angular lines of his face. A shadow of stubble on his chin and cheeks lent an air of danger, as if the very darkness itself had taken residence on his skin.
As he gazed deeper, his eyes seemed to hold a thousand midnights – the weight of countless secrets, the echoes of silenced screams, and the ghosts of lives extinguished by his own hand.
Yet, amidst the brutality etched on his face, a haunting beauty shone through. A beauty that belied the monster he had become – a beauty that whispered of the humanity he once knew.
He adjusted his tailored suit, the black fabric accentuating his broad shoulders and imposing physique. A silver ring glinted on his finger, a token from his dead mother.
For a fleeting moment, his mask slipped, revealing a glimmer of vulnerability. But it was quickly replaced by the familiar cold calculation, the hardened resolve of a man forged in blood and steel.
He descended the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing through the opulent foyer. The soft glow of crystal chandeliers cast shadows on the walls, mirroring the darkness within him.
With each step, the weight of his family's resentment grew thicker, like an invisible fog clinging to his tailored suit. He knew what awaited him below: cold stares, biting remarks, and the suffocating silence of their disdain.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the dining room came into view. His family sat around the polished mahogany table, their faces illuminated by the flickering candles. The air was thick with tension, heavy with unspoken accusations.
His stepmother, Sphetheni once a beacon of warmth, now regarded him with icy disdain. Her eyes, once bright with love, had dulled, like stones worn smooth by the constant flow of sorrow.
His father, a man he once admired, now sat with his back turned, a silent rebuke. The old man's shoulders sagged under the weight of disappointment, as if the very thought of his son's profession had crushed him.
His siblings exchanged uneasy glances, their faces reflecting a mix of fear and revulsion. They saw him as a monster, a necessary evil to be tolerated, not loved.
He approached the table, his presence drawing a collective sigh, like the release of held breath. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in on him.
" Evening "
he said, his deep voice low and controlled, a deliberate contrast to the turmoil brewing within.
The responses were muted, perfunctory. His family's hatred hung in the air like a challenge, daring him to try and bridge the chasm between them.
He took his seat, the chair scraping against the floor like a harsh judgment. The dinner spread before him – a feast of roasted meats and steaming vegetables – seemed hollow, a futile attempt to mask the bitterness.
As he lifted his fork, his eyes met that of Sphetheni ,searching for a glimmer of the love they once shared. Instead, he found only sorrow and regret.
The meal began, a stilted dance of polite conversation and forced smiles. He played his part, hiding behind a mask of indifference, all too aware that, in this family, love and loyalty were luxuries he could no longer afford.
.
.
As the evening wore on, the dinner plates cleared, and the tension dissipated, the two younger brothers, Alakhe and Nkonzo Zulu, retreated to the study. The door clicked shut behind them, and the whispered conversation began.
"He's not even our real brother."
Nkonzo spat, his voice laced with venom.
"Just some illegitimate mistake Father made."
Alakhe nodded in agreement, his eyes flashing with resentment.
"And yet, he thinks he can just waltz in here and take control?"
Nkonzo snorted. "As if being the eldest gives him some divine right."
Their words dripped with malice, fueled by years of jealousy and perceived injustice. They saw their older brother as an interloper, a usurper of their birthright.
"He's just using Father's name to further his own interests,"
Alakhe said, his tone bitter.
Nkonzo 's face twisted in disgust.
"And what about his... extracurricular activities? The rumors, the whispers? He's tarnishing our family's reputation."
Nkonzo's eyes narrowed.
"We can't let him continue to manipulate Father. We need to take action."
Their conspiracy unfolded like a dark tapestry, woven from threads of resentment and ambition.
Meanwhile, their older brother stood outside.
Unaware of the treachery unfolding within his own family, the older brother stood on the balcony, lost in thought. The city lights twinkled below, a stark contrast to the darkness brewing within.
The door to his room creaked open, and his father, Andile Zulu entered with an air of gravitas. The older man's eyes, once warm and nurturing, now seemed cold and calculating.
" Simosethu." He said, his voice low and even.
"I have a task for you."
Simosethu rose from his chair, his movements fluid and deliberate.
"Yebo baba."
Andile handed him a folder containing a single sheet of paper.
" Nhloso Khumalo, CEO of KD Industries, has refused our... proposal. He's unwilling to sign the contract."
Simosethu 's gaze flicked to the paper, his eyes scanning the details. "What's the objective?"
"Eliminate him."
Andile said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Ensure our family's interests are protected."
He nodded, his expression impassive. This was familiar territory.
"The security detail is substantial," Andile continued. "You'll need to be... creative."
His face hardens .
"Consider it done, baba."
Andile 's eyes narrowed.
"See that you do. This is crucial for our family's future."
With a curt nod, Simosethu took the folder and tucked it into his jacket. The weight of his father's expectations settled upon him like a mantle.
As Andile turned to leave, Simo spoke up.
"Father?"
"Yes?"
"Why are you doing this to me.?"
Andile 's gaze locked onto his, a glint of steel in his eyes.
"our family's power is built on control. And Khumalo 's refusal threatens that control. We cannot appear weak. Do that and stop with silly questions."
Simo's understanding was implicit. He is asking about them, their relationship as father and son. not business or family honour.
He grew up knowing his father to become despicable devil but this is also his life at gamble.
Why does he hates him.? His son.!
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Posted on November 9, 2024, 7:51 am