CHAPTER 4





Simosethu Zulu



Simo stood tall, his expression chiseled granite, as his mother's venomous words spewed forth.



"You're nothing but an illegitimate son!" she spat.



"A mistake. A product of your father's weakness."



Her eyes blazed with contempt.



"Your mother, a stranger. A fleeting pleasure."



His gaze remained steady, his jaw clenched.



"You'll never amount to anything," she spat.



"No lineage. No legacy."



The words cut deep, but his face betrayed no emotion.



He'd learned to shield himself.



Years of practice.



His stepmother's anger fueled her tirade.



"You're a stain on our family's name!"



"A reminder of your father's shame."



Simo's eyes narrowed, his breathing slow.



He'd heard it all before.



The venom.



The hatred.



The rejection.



But he wouldn't react.



He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.



His Sphetheni 's rage exhausted, she turned to leave.



The door slammed shut behind her.



Simo's mask slipped.



For an instant.



A flash of pain.



A glimmer of vulnerability.



Then, nothing.



His expression smoothed.



His heart fortified.



The encounter left no visible scar.



But the wounds within deepened.





Ayakho Mabuza



Ayakho stepped out of the car, her gaze tracing the familiar contours of her family's estate. The grand facade, once a symbol of comfort and security, now loomed like a prison.



As she breathed in the crisp air, memories flooded her mind:



Laughing with friends in the gardens.

Summer afternoons by the pool.

Late-night whispers with her mother.



But the ache within her whispered:



This isn't home anymore.



The front door swung open.



Mrs Mabuza her mother, stood, her expression a mix of expectation and apprehension.



" Aya, welcome back," she said.



No warmth.

No hug.

No tears.



Ayakho's heart hardened.



She entered the house, her footsteps echoing through the marble foyer.



Everything looked the same:



The chandelier's sparkle.

The staircase's curve.

The painting's gentle smile.



Yet, everything felt different.



Her eyes adjusted to the dim light.



She saw:



A gilded cage.

A life predetermined.

A future scripted.



Her gaze settled on the staircase.



Upstairs, her room waited.



Unchanged.



Unouched.



A time capsule of memories.



Ayakho ascended, each step heavy with trepidation.



Would she find solace in familiarity?



Or would the shadows of her past consume her?



As she reached her room, she paused.



The door creaked open.



A faint scent of lavender lingered.



Memories rushed back:



Laughter.

Tears.

Whispers.



Her heart swelled.



This room, once her sanctuary.



Now, a reminder of what she'd lost.



Ayakho's eyes wandered around her room, drinking in the familiar sights.



The plush rug, soft beneath her feet.

The vanity, where she'd spent hours perfecting her smile.

The bed, where she'd cried herself to sleep.



But amidst the nostalgia, a sense of disconnection settled in.



This room, once her refuge, now felt like a relic.



A reminder of the person she used to be.



Her gaze fell upon a photo.



Her mother's bright smile.



Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.



She missed her mother's warmth. Not the woman who opened the door for her. Things have changed over the past three years at the mental institution. She never bothered to even check up on her.



Her guidance.



Her love.



Her thoughts turned to her impending marriage.





A stranger.



Tied to him.



A man behind her freedom today



A shiver ran down her spine.



How could her father do this?



Ayakho's determination solidified.



She would uncover the whole truth behind this.

Her father sold her to a man she knows nothing about. This is not fair.



She has to escape this arranged marriage.



" What are you thinking about.?"



Her gaze caught that of her father's. She stands by the window and looked outside. The statue of a rabbit with flowers in the garden caught her eyes.



" Who is this man in question.? Why did you even do this.?"



" I wanted you out."



Mabuza answered with no hesitation.



" You could have used money the same way you got me in there."



" Everything has its own reasons Nana. I put you there for your safety."



" With crazy people.! With lunatics, where you wanted me to spend the rest of my life at.! Do you hear your self father.!"



Her voice was low and warm, but pain and demand was lingering within.

She demands answers.



" No one cared to check on me after all those years counting and praying. You abandoned me to strangers, and again even now. You sold me to a man. A stranger, what more to give father.!"



Her tears inked out as she tries not to make eye contact with Mabuza.



" He is not just any stranger, he will ensure your safety when time is right. The Zulu family has connections, influential ones. Simosethu Zulu, his presence carry that of the devil. He will protect you."



Zulu, The name sent shivers down her spine.



A hitman 's family. Him.?



Ruthless. Merciless. Deadly.



Ayakho's imagination conjured images of cold calculation, of lives extinguished without remorse. She envisioned simo's eyes, devoid of humanity, his smile a thinly veiled threat.



How could her father do this?



Marriage to a stranger was bad enough, but a man tied to a hitman?



Her thoughts swirled with dread:



What if Simosethu 's violence seeps into their marriage?





Is her father sacrificing her to secure his own interests?



She felt trapped, her future controlled by forces beyond her grasp.

a dark specter haunting her.

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