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Menella and Rosemary which she called Rosey have been friend right from high school, she knows most things about her, like items she likes and dislike she also knew about her family tragedy and knew she had been seeking justice for long, to menalla she is the sister she never had and the only family apart from her grandma. But during there university day's she relocated out of the country to Canada with her parents and just came back to London.
"What do you think he wants?" menalla said to her friend as they work together their desk were next to one another.
"Don't mind him," Rosemary said gently, walking by her side. "Men like that—they don't deserve a second thought. He left you, Menalla. That should be all the closure you need."
Menalla forced a small smile. Rosemary had always been her shield, the one person in the firm who truly saw her worth. She was outspoken, fiery, and never afraid to say what others only whispered.
"I know," Menalla said softly. "But i just have lot of question, you know turn he looked real and true but suddenly getting Joy pregnant that…"
Rosemary placed an arm around her shoulder, guiding her toward their desks in the corner of the cramped office. "Let him wallow in his regrets. You? You've got bigger dreams than him. One day, Menalla, people won't just read your words, they'll cling to them. You'll see."
The words warmed Menalla's heart, even if she didn't fully believe them yet.
The office smelled of stale coffee and ink. Old computers hummed, their screens covered with fingerprints. The editor's voice barked from the far corner, demanding rewrites on articles no one would ever truly read. It was a world small, overlooked, and underfunded but for Menalla, it was training ground.
She sank into her chair, flipped open her notebook, and began scribbling. Stories, ideas, threads of truth she was piecing together. But at the back of her mind, her vow repeated:
One day, I'll uncover something so big no one will dare ignore me.
One day, I'll make the world listen.
Her pen dug into the paper as though carving that promise into existence.
---
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Damian stood inside Stork Firm.
The building's interior was a palace of modern design—marble floors polished until they gleamed, chandeliers dripping crystal light, walls lined with portraits of Elizur ancestors. Employees dressed in sharp suits moved quickly but respectfully, their eyes lowering when Damian walked past.
He could feel it the weight of expectation. The whispers followed him like shadows.
"Is that Damian Elizur?"
"I thought he was still in prison…"
"He just got out of prison"
"He looks just like his mother, doesn't he?"
Every sound, every step pressed against him, reminding him of what he had lost, of the years stolen from him behind bars. But here he was again, inside the empire that was his birthright.
At the far end of the lobby, the grand staircase stretched upward like a path to destiny. He paused at the base, his hand brushing against the golden railing. For a moment, he closed his eyes, and another memory of his mother returned—her laughter echoing in this very hall, her voice teaching him how to greet the board members with poise, how to command respect even as a child.
Damian opened his eyes and whispered under his breath, "Mother… I'm back."
He began to climb into the elevator.
Outside, the reporters were still screaming his name, desperate for answers. Inside, employees peeked from corners, their curiosity burning. But Damian's face remained stone, unreadable, as if the years in prison had carved his soul into armor.
For now, he would not speak.
For now, silence was his shield.
---
Back at the local firm, Rosemary slid a steaming cup of coffee onto Menalla's desk. She smile as she go through the reports.
she couldn't help but feel the tension of the day pressing into her bones. Carlous' reappearance was no coincidence. Life was stirring, pulling strings she couldn't yet see.
But one thing she knew for certain—her path was leading her somewhere bigger than this dusty office. Somewhere her pen would not just write stories but reveal truths that would shake nations.
And unknown to her, somewhere across the city, a man named Damian was stepping back into power, carrying wounds just as deep and a hunger for justice just as fierce.
Two lives.
Two battles.
And soon, their paths would collide.