Chapter 36

I was turning in for the night when I heard a light knock on the door. I went out to check but there was no one in sight. I turned to go back in, but halted as I noticed a big brown envelope on the rocking chair.

Did Samuel forget his documents? I do not recall him holding any brown envelope, though.

I pick it up and saw it was addressed to me. The envelope felt like it contained some papers or a document, so I took it in and dropped it on the bed, not knowing what to do with it.

Should I open it? What if there is something harmful inside, like a poison-laced letter? I do not think Christopher would want to kill us. Not that serious. Right?

Should I tell Samuel? What if I do, and he comes here to haul us to his house or take extreme security measures? I do not want to move in with a guy I just met days I can count on my fingers. Besides, I cannot be running to him for every slight problem that arises. I am a modern-day woman, for fuck's sake. I need to face this on my own and not rely on a man like one weak female from a fairytale book. If he can handle it, then so can I.

I did the sign of the cross and said our Lord's prayer.

Like that has ever saved anyone in danger before.

I tore the envelope open to find a news article inside, which was a little disappointing considering how afraid I was to open it.

Right on the cover page was a picture of Samuel holding my baby and kissing my forehead with a hand draped around my waist as he dropped us off this morning.

Written in bold letters and all caps were the words: The shocking story behind the broken engagement between beauty queen Amanda Taylor and her secret billionaire beau revealed. Sordid details about his secret life inside.

Amanda Taylor, Miss universe? Samuel was engaged to her?

The article described how the twenty-six-year-old king of all billionaires impregnated a teenage ghetto prostitute and left queen Amanda for her.

"Wait… I am a teen ghetto prostitute? Christopher is lucky I cannot see him right now, or he will have to tell me who the prostitute he is referring to is. Fucking disrespectful bastard."

There was a note attached to the item, and the ugly handwriting told me exactly who wrote it.

Hello sweetheart, compliment of the day, and welcome back home. I hope you enjoyed your lovely weekend. Did you miss me? Well, I did not miss you, but I missed my little niece. Is she not a gift that keeps on giving? I want a few things from your lover boy, and if I do not get it before the weekend, that insightful article will become exposed, and you, my dear Belle, will be the talk of the world. Kiss little Sammie for me. Let her know that her favourite uncle adores her. By now, you know my brother cannot protect you from me, and I can get to you whenever I want, despite the miserable security men outside your gate. I have my eyes on you every second of the day, sweetheart, and it is satisfying watching that fear in your eyes as you read my love letter. Look up at the camera planted on your ceiling, and you can see me watching you.

P.S. I prefer the brown nightgown you used on Saturday night because red makes you look like a tacky whore.

I looked up and gulped at the camera starring at me from my ceiling. My anxiety peaked and my heart rate would not stop increasing at any slight sound. My nerves were on edge and I could not stop biting my nails as I stared deep into the blue light blinking above the camera lens.

The feeling of impending doom was incessant, like something terrible would happen any second and I had no idea what to do. I felt violated and invaded.

What do I do?

Should I call Tara and Kenya to hear their opinion? But how do I explain how I met him? Will they be receptive to this or will telling them cause problems instead?

Kenya will go bonkers if this news article is released. I was supposed to settle in this town and remain silent for my safety, but this is the loudest possible way to introduce myself back into the world. I don't think my family will appreciate my latest adventure after the last one almost cost me my life and brought Uncle Sam's life to a brutal end. No. I cannot tell them.

What about Pops? He will be more understanding, but he will become worried, and if he gets too worried, mom will find out, and if he finds out, Frank will too, and it will spread through the family like wildfire. They will loathe me for causing trouble again, and I do not want that.

Why can't I stay out of trouble? I am tired of always being the only source of constant pain in my family. All I had to do was stay as quiet as possible, but I had to go poking my nose online.

Oh, God!

My palms were sweaty, and my legs were shaking like I was floating in the air. My head filled with gas, my throat was closing up, the room was closing in on me, and there was a godawful smell in my head that made me want to puke. I ran out of the house and grabbed the entrance pillar to steady myself.

Count, Debby. Count.

"1 and 2 and 3. 1, I am all right. 2, It is just my brain playing tricks on me. I am not going to pass out. 3, I am strong enough to handle this. And 4, I can breathe from the abundant air surrounding me. One breath at a time. 5, Everything is under control. 6, I am OK. Inhale and exhale."

Seconds passed, and my airways cleared up. I grabbed my phone and dialled whilst my ribcage vibrated from the frequency of my deep breaths. I silently prayed he picks up because it was a little past 10 pm, so I guessed he would be in bed. With luck on my side he picked on the second ring.

"Hey, baby. missing me already?" He chimed.

I expired uneasy air from my lungs. "Samuel, are you in bed already?"

"Yes, but I cannot sleep? Why do you ask?"

"I need you here right now."

"Are you OK? Is something wrong?"

"You need to get here right now. I cannot explain over the phone, but you must be on your way immediately."

"Okay. I am on my way."

The call dropped, and I looked at my daughter who was deep asleep. I was struggling to stay calm, but my thoughts roamed free.

I have been worried about this impending storm, and now that it is here, I am afraid I am not ready for this.