The night felt heavier than usual inside Selira's house. A thick silence blanketed the rooms, broken only by the occasional sound of the wind brushing against the windows. Selira sat before her father's photo, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Dad, I know you're watching over us," she whispered, her fingers gently touching the frame. "Everything is falling apart, but I'll fix it. I'll protect mom. I promise."
Her mother stood nearby, listening. "He's in heaven now, sweetheart. And I'm sure he's still holding your hand from there."
Selira gave her a small smile, wiping her tears. "I feel that, too, Mom."
Across the village, Braylon was walking up the steps to Ira's house. Her parents were away at work, and she had just finished her bath. As he called her, she answered from behind the bathroom door.
"Hey! I'm still in the shower. Door password's the same. Come in and wait in the hall."
Braylon entered and sat for a moment, the silence stirring mischief in his eyes. Unable to resist, he tiptoed toward her room. The door creaked slightly as he stepped inside. Ira, wrapped in nothing but a towel, turned around in surprise.
"Bray!" she gasped.
He smirked. "Where are you going, baby?"
"I need to get dressed—"
But before she could move, he pulled her gently by the arm. The scent of her body wash was intoxicating. His hands slipped beneath her towel, caressing her soft skin. Ira gasped but didn't pull away. Instead, her lips parted as he leaned closer.
"You always hide under bedsheets or keep the lights off," he whispered. "But today, I want to see all of you."
He undid her towel and let it fall, exposing her trembling form in the daylight. Ira crossed her arms shyly.
"Bray, don't look at me like that… I feel shy."
He grinned, trailing kisses down her collarbone. "Then let me take away that shyness."
His lips worshiped her skin, tasting every inch. His hands roamed freely, teasing and kneading her curves, coaxing her moans. Ira's restraint faded fast. Their bodies tangled in raw heat, lips biting, fingers exploring, hips grinding. They didn't rush two hours of tangled limbs and breathless whispers passed before they collapsed, drenched in sweat and desire.
Braylon lay beside her, pulling her close.
"Tomorrow, we leave this village forever," he said.
Ira smiled lazily. "Let's do it. I want to act too."
"Good. We'll make money, make a name… and make love," he chuckled, pulling her on top of him for another round.
In the city, Zavian stirred from sleep around noon, his head heavy from last night's drinking. Darian groaned beside him on the guest couch.
"I need coffee and a new liver," Darian muttered.
Zavian laughed hoarsely. "That's what you get for making me drink like a beast."
They cleaned up and headed to the office. Zavian's secretary briefed them.
"Sir, everything is arranged. Tomorrow morning at 9, we leave. Once we reach the village, you can rest. In the evening, I've scheduled your first meeting in Goodwill Hotel. Your friend's arrangements are done too."
"Thanks," Zavian said, nodding.
At home, his return stirred chaos. His father yelled from across the hallway.
"You skipped your brother's birthday again!"
Zavian's eyes narrowed. "If I didn't work day and night, you wouldn't have all this luxury. And your precious second son wouldn't be lounging in it either."
His stepmother clucked her tongue. "This is not how you talk to your father."
Zavian didn't respond. He stormed upstairs. His grandparents watched silently, familiar with this tension. They didn't interfere.
After Zavian stormed into his room, shutting the door behind him, his father stood in silence, fuming. His stepmother, dressed in an elegant silk gown, slowly approached with a concerned expression. But behind that painted sympathy, her mind worked differently.
She placed a hand on her husband's shoulder and whispered sweetly, "Darling, you saw him. That temper, that coldness… I'm honestly worried about our son. He's thirty already. Still single, still troubled. If he had just attended the birthday party, I could have introduced him to a lovely girl from my friend's family. But he doesn't care."
Zavian's father, already frustrated, sighed. "I don't know what's going on in his mind. He works like a machine. But you're right. Maybe marriage would settle him down."
She nodded quickly. "Exactly. That's what I've been telling you. I want the best for him. But he's rejecting every girl. How long can we wait?"
After planting the seed of concern, she turned away and walked slowly to her room, her lips curling into a sly smile the moment she was alone.
Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and whispered to herself, "You'll never be able to touch a woman, Zavian. Not now. Not ever."
She moved to her dressing table, opened the drawer, and pulled out a small box of faded vials tiny bottles with handwritten labels, some of them in old ink. Inside were remnants of the herbal serum she had used for years a concoction of rare herbs and slow-acting nerve agents, disguised as natural immunity boosters.
"I spent twelve years mixing this into your morning drinks," she muttered. "A little drop every day… You never noticed. Nobody ever noticed. All it took was patience."
She walked to the window and looked out at the garden where her own son Zavian's stepbrother was playing golf with friends.
"My son will inherit everything," she whispered, her eyes sharp. "Not you, Zavian. You're strong, brilliant, dangerous... but only until a woman gets close to you. Then you break."
A twisted satisfaction glowed in her face. She had convinced everyone it was a rare medical condition. Even Kael the doctor friend close to Zavian believed it. All the test results she manipulated, all the planted symptoms, all the staged allergic episodes over the years… Her act had been perfect.
"Soon, my darling son will take your place. I'll make sure of that," she whispered.
Back in the village, Selira and her mother inspected the burnt shop. The smell of ashes still lingered.
"Nothing is usable," her mother said with a sigh.
Their landlord arrived. "Before the fire, your insurance expired. Your father promised to renew it but didn't get the chance. So the damage twenty thousand dollars is on you."
They were stunned.
"I'll give you six months to repay it. Only because your father was a good man."
They thanked him with teary eyes.
Later that evening, as they sat in silence, Selira whispered, "Mom… Dad told me his friend in the city could help me get into acting."
Her mother hesitated. "No. I didn't like it before, and I don't like it now. We're alone now. We can't take risks."
"But—"
"No. We'll start fresh with the spice business. Your dad has loyal customers. I've helped him for years. We'll make it work."
Selira finally nodded.
"I have three thousand dollars saved. We can start small."
Her mother smiled, brushing her hair back. "We'll grow from there. Together."
As hope quietly returned to Selira's home, a storm brewed elsewhere. Braylon and Ira were drunk on desire and deception. Zavian, unaware of what fate was planning, stood on the edge of an emotional whirlwind.
And above them all, destiny watched... waiting to turn their world upside down.