pte
veil o
phia and Forlan notice the shift, hinting at their growing involvement. Rebecca's re-entry, framed by her unreadable gaze and forced smile shared with Fred, captures the gro
aint. In her public life, she was often seen alongside men of influence, power brokers, and business tycoons. Samuel Mensah, her fiancé and wealthy venture capitalist with a penchant for acquisition and a slow heart for trust, provided this access. But Rebecca's poise masked storms. She never rev
, sensations without meaning-laughter, touch, dominance, submission. Each nightmare was a jigsaw of lust and survival, control and loss. It all started in her teenage years, in the hands of a manipul
. He never pressed her for her history, believing that love meant leaving the past untouched. Bu
nder different names, different cities. Not only did he recognize her by her face, but also by the guarded way she smiled, as if she were always anticipating p
t personality. And more dangerously, he suspected that she remembered more than she admitted. When they locked
e, wit, and elegance. Fred's presence threatened to unravel it all. And yet, part of her tethered to a past
burdened by the demands of high society and the subtle racism and sexism she fought daily in elite c
y ambition and business but by history, betrayal, and the unspoken. The game was no longer just about love or wealth it was about co
conversations slowed, how glances lingered longer than they should
ould have been unaware of her past. She had mastered the art of masking discomfort, but tonight, the mask
oached her with concern, placing a hand on her waist a gesture
r eyes betrayed her. "J
cca, we never finished our talk about the East African mural you resto
becca to speak. He didn't realize he had j
As one of Don Williams's trusted informants, he had a job: fol
bout loyalty. And risk. "Keep him close," he had told Forlan. "And keep her closer." He wasn't just talkin
warmth. Smiles felt painted on. Trust had become a currency everyone was short on. A storm was