RAYMOND POV
I woke up with sweat all over my body as my heart was racing so fast due to a nightmare I had just encountered. This was just one of the many nights where I had to struggle with the thoughts from that very night. All I see whenever I shut my eyes is blood gushing out of her mouth.
24 months have passed and I have constantly lived as a shadow of myself like one without purpose. The events of that night still haunt me, and the memories still linger.
This was the price I had to pay for not hiding her words that night. Perhaps if we stayed home that day and had our movie date as Jasmine suggested she would have been with me right now.
The heavens should have taken me in place of her rather than keeping me here to torment me with memories from that night.
I tried to shake off the lingering effect of Jasmine’s death as I stumbled out of bed and made my way into the shower. I splashed water on my face hoping that the cold water could ease my racing thoughts.
The cold bath therapy didn't seem to have much effect as I could still hear Jasmine's last words pressing down on me suffocating me with anger and guilt.
I knew that staying home wouldn't help matters as I needed to distract myself to clear my head just as I have done countless times.
I looked into my closet and picked a black V-neck collarless long-sleeved shirt with a daring V-line in the middle. The shirt gripped my torso in just the right areas, emphasizing my elegant tone and physique. I paired it with black trousers and a pair of shoes from John Lobby.
“You have great style, you know,” said my mom as she walked past my room.
I smiled back at the compliment. Indeed, my mom had a way of making me smile. My mom has always been my ride-or-die. Her constant support and care are the reason I'm still breathing. Without her, I would have given up when I heard about Jasmine's death.
- - - - - - - - - - -
With my father's wealth flowing like an endless river partying and clubbing together with alcohol who has now become my number one buddy have slowly become my best things to do.
The music was blaring and the atmosphere was lively as I made my way to Concave bar’s counter to meet up with my drink mates who are ever happy to help me squander my father's wealth.
"The day is still young, so feel free to place an order for whatever you desire," I told my friend. He didn't object and called for a bartender to come over.
We ended up ordering some pricey bottles and even arranged for a private stripper to dance exclusively for our table.
As I danced along with the music, I thought to myself, "This is where I feel safe. This is my happy place."
The night wore on and we found ourselves playing a heated game of truth or dare. We asked ourselves to do unspeakable things. We laughed and drank as I tried to hide and ignore the unspeakable pain that lingered within me.
As laughter and music began to fade one of the waiters informed us that their closing time was fast approaching. Drowned in alcohol I reached out for my card wanting to pay for our drink as always.
“Insufficient funds sir” was a word that had never been said to me before. “What! Please try again. It must be a wrong card,” I said as I tried reaching for another card.
Little did I know that my father had longed to stop my monthly allowances due to my flamboyant lifestyle. It's no longer news that he is fed up with my reckless spending and partying. I had pushed him to his limit, and now I was about to face the result of my reckless acts.
“You don't have enough funds, sir,” said the bartender who handed my card back to me and went ahead to report the case to his supervisor. I turned to ask my friends for funds but they were nowhere to be seen.
I had no other option than to call home but there was no response. I sat on one of the couches at Concave Bar for hours, my mind racing with thoughts of how hurt my mom would be when she heard this.
Just a few days ago she begged me to reduce my alcohol intake and take up some responsibilities in the company to make my father happy.
I spent the early hours of the morning at Concave because I got held up. Luckily I was given a comfortable place to sleep because of the relationship I had with the CEO.
It helped that he is a friend of my dad’s who supplies luxury drinks for his events. Once again my surname “Laurence” came through.
On the morning of the next day, I was still lying on one of the couches in the bar when my mom walked in.
She looked like a storm cloud prepared to burst, and I couldn't even bear to meet her gaze.
Mother didn't even have to say a word. It was at that moment that I knew that I had let her down, and sooner or later my actions would come back and dine with me.
We left the bar and her anger and frustration came pouring out as she lashed out at me, “ If you don't take charge of your life then your father would have to come in.”
“ Raymond, you can't keep wallowing in self-pity and depression. The sooner you heal from your grief the better off you'll be else the outcome of your reckless acts will come knocking in no time.
‘’You're a Laurence, a lot of people would beg the heavens to be in your shoes. Don't you dare forget that”
Her voice echoed with disappointment and anger, with words heavier than the air itself as she made those statements.
I knew that she was not going to make more excuses for me as she had given me so many chances to pick myself up but I had squandered it all. I have slowly become a burden, a sad tale to everyone around me.
As I headed towards the car, a figure stepped into my path. It was a man who the look in his eyes told me that trouble was brewing.
He was dressed in a worn-out black coat, looked dirty and unkept yet his unfazed spirit sent a shiver down my spine.
I tried to ignore him and make my way into the car, but he blocked my path and I saw a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
"Leaving so soon?" he said, in a sardonic tone. “ You owe me for keeping your secret from last night."
I felt nostalgic in the pit of my stomach. What secret?
I didn't remember doing anything out of the usual, but my hungover ass and hazy memory of last night made it hard to be sure.
"What do you mean?" I stammered, trying to look unfrightened by his statement.
The man's smirk widened.
"Remember this face, because soon I'll be at your door to collect what you owe me, " he said, waving his hand in front of my face.
"And if I don't get what I want, there will be consequences, things are going to get a whole lot worse for you Mr Raymond Laurence."
I glanced as the man walked past me, my heart racing as I searched my thoughts trying to remember the events of last night.
“How does a man like that know my name? What consequence was he talking about?” I said as the thought of the man sent a wave of panic through me.
"I'll... I'll find him," I mumbled, as my mind was racing with thoughts of what I must have done last night.
Elena's POVTears rolled down my cheeks as I sat in front of the mirror, gazing at my own reflection. Despite my unending attempts to wipe them away, they kept flowing like an unstoppable force. I knew perfectly that the tranquilized atmosphere in the house was temporary even at the late hours of the night. I work like an elephant and hardly get 3 square meals a day. I've grown to find out that the man who claimed to be my dad hardly stays at home. He's always going on business trips. My mood was aligned with the heavy cloud and Stormy night. My tears rolled down to the scar on my chin. “Beautiful,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. At 17, this particular scar was given to me when I was accused of snatching Alana's boyfriend at the prom. The memories flickered in my mind. I could feel the pain. “It's all for the best,” I said reassuringly, giving myself false hopes and expecting things to get better. I couldn't help but wonder, why was my entire world built around pa
Raymond's POV I burst into the room, anger evident in my facial expression. My father, seated on the couch with a cup of whiskey, looked at me, his face pale and free from all emotions. “ You can't do this to me, Dad. You just can't!” I yelled in anger. “ I know you think I am irresponsible, but forcing me into marriage and choosing a bride for me without my consent? That's unfair!” My father's eyes narrowed and he put his drink on the table. “ The last time I checked, I never sought the opinion of an irresponsible child. Never in my life have I reduced myself to debating with irresponsible people. Just do whatever I instruct. Don't ever question or challenge me.” he replied, rolling his eyes. “ You're doing this for your selfish interest! What did you promise the godforsaken bride? A house? At times I wonder if I'm truly your son.” My rage was boiling and threatening to spill. I had to keep it in check. “ Let me burst the bubbles, Raymond. Y
Your wedding day, they say, is an important event in every young woman's life. But why don't I feel happy? Rather, I feel relieved that I have managed to salvage the reputation of my family name from the claws of the media. As I sat here, surrounded by my guests, I couldn't help but fix my gaze on Alana, my sister, the trophy daughter of Williams Woods. Her makeup is beautifully done, with just the right amount of elegance and subtlety that perfectly complements her natural beauty.One who's not a family or a close family friend might not be able to differentiate us because we could pass for twins. The only difference between us was the mark on the right side of my face, a reminder of the mishandling I suffered at birth by a public hospital midwife.As I caught sight of her, I was taken aback by her pale and unhappy appearance, and a wave of realization struck me. Was my marriage to Raymond not what she wanted?This thought kept running through me as I tried to concentrate on the g
ELENA’S POVAs the first glow of dawn came in through the curtains, a wave of nausea hit me like a tonne of bricks. For some time now my morning sickness had become an unwanted companion, a relentless force determined to disrupt my day. The harshness was beyond my expectations, as I had never experienced such discomfort before. No matter how much I tried to avoid it I had a continual reminder that a new life was developing within me.Every breakfast seemed like a battle, a fight to keep my meal down. My stomach always cramps in protest, as I struggle to keep eating just to give my baby something to munch on. In times like these the very thought of food caused my stomach to twist and spin, and my mouth watered with the possibility of vomiting. Even the smell of my favorite oven-fried chicken brewing in the kitchen made me flee to the protection of the wash basin.My morning sickness symptoms extended beyond nausea. Even after a full day's sleep, I would feel exhausted. As the days
ELENA’S POV"Who is the father of that thing you are carrying, Elena?" Mrs Lawrence's voice echoed through the sitting room, full of irritation and anger.I felt the weight of her question push down on me, filling me with guilt and resentment. I strained to compose myself, my heart beating as I searched for the appropriate words. "I...I don't know," I muttered, flushed from humiliation.As the seconds ticked by, all I wanted was to disappear into thin air, free of the implicit accusations and bearing the burden of my doubt.I heard that old wall clock ticking away in the background, mixed with the eager chatter of the stewards who were eager to listen to Mrs Lawrence's conversation."Once again, my mother-in-law's voice sliced through the sitting room air like a rusty blade. 'Who is the father of that child?' she demanded. I jolted back to reality, a guilty flush creeping up my nerves."I tried to reply to Mrs Lawrence.“I…I can ex…p…lain” I muttered trying to catch my already
Elena go upstairs, you aren't moving an inch out of this house” Mary! Sabatine!. “Move these bags upstairs right now”. Said my dad as he walked from the garden to the sitting room where I was standing.You don't have any moral justification to throw your wife out. Yes, your wife because Elena is your wife and she must be treated as such. Honey, I didn't expect this attitude from you. You are a woman you should know better. Elena is a member of this family and that child is a ‘‘Lawrence’’. The earlier you accept It the better for everyone. Dad’s face fell with disappointment as he walked out of the sitting room. Knowing who my dad was, I expected him to kick her out without blinking an eye. But why is he on Elena’s side? Why is he protecting her? My mind wondered.As he made his points clear my mom and I gazed at each other in confusion. It was obvious that he meant every bit of what he said. Still in shock, I sat down on the sofa to process the shocking news that I just heard m
RAYMOND’S POV.I woke up feeling rusty and sluggish. Figured it may be the alcohol of the previous night doing its job.Headed downstairs for lunch since I missed my breakfast some hours ago. As I descended the stairs, I noticed Elena was already seated at the dining table, likely waiting for Mary to get her lunch.Lately, Elena and I barely exchanged words. We say a few hellos and hi's whenever we came across each other.I sat at the dining table and responded to her “Hello” while requesting some oven-dried chicken with macaroni Pasta salad. Hmm, back at this issue again. The president doesn't give a damn about you all. You go on protests every other week and nothing changes," I muttered, staring at the television. "Yet you still believe them. That's the difference between you guys," I pointed at the television, "and the rich, ha ha," I scoffed as I forced a piece of dried chicken placed in front of me."Bring me some orange juice," I called out to one of the housekeepers standing
ELENA’S POVMy marriage with Raymond has become a real puzzle since the discovery of my gestational age. My once close bond with Mrs Lawrence has turned sour, and now she acts like I don't exist. Nobody seems to care about me or my feelings, but thankfully my father-in-law and Mary treat me with the love that I desire.My stepmother and step-sister have never stopped by to say hi, and they never check in on me. Anytime I try to visit, I'm always stopped by one of the new stewards who politely tells me that they are busy at the moment or they aren't at home.The last time I heard my stepmother's voice was when Mrs Lawrence called about my pregnancy. And my dad, well he calls but it's not as often as I'd want him to. Our conversations are always short, and it feels like he is always rushing to get back to work.Raymond, my supposed husband, does nothing to make the situation better. All he does now is come home drunk and mess around with women.Even though Doctor Lucas and his parents