A young maid, who had quietly served drinks all night, bit her lip nervously as she peeked out from behind a pillar. "Is it really true, Anna?" she whispered to a fellow maid. "The Young Madam wouldn't...would she?"
Anna's eyes shifted, uncertain. She had seen Olaedo interact with the family, had watched the quiet moments where she had taken the time to speak with the younger staff, make them feel seen and valued. "I don't want to believe it," she said softly. "But the way he's speaking, the evidence...it's hard not to question."
Another servant, older and more cynical, scoffed. "The rich are never what they seem. They're all playing their part in a game we'll never understand."
As the servants and guests continued to voice their doubt and disbelief, the atmosphere grew taut. Whispers turned into low murmurs, murmurs into shouts of outrage and confusion.
Some guests shuffled uncomfortably, eyes flicking between the accused Young Madam and her husband, Chibuzor, who stood in the center of it all, his jaw clenched and eyes trained on the stage.
The older guests, those who had witnessed the downfall of families before, exchanged knowing glances. They knew all too well how a scandal could spread, how it could infect a reputation and burn a legacy to the ground.
And somewhere in the distance, an elderly woman whose voice still carried the strength of her youth spoke to her neighbor. "I remember when the Arinze scandal first broke," she said, her voice sharp with a mix of nostalgia and dread. "We said it would never happen again, but here we are."
The room, once vibrant with music and laughter, had become a crucible of judgment and fear, where each word, each glance, and each whisper threatened to ignite the fragile truth that hung in the air.
For the first time, Olaedo felt the weight of a family legacy that could shatter under the strain of mere rumors. And as the murmurs grew, her heart pounded with a fear that this might be a storm she couldn't weather alone.
If the guests' reactions were dramatic, the family's responses were far more intense. The atmosphere in the ballroom, already strained from the sudden chaos, thickened as Ifeoma leaped to her feet, eyes blazing, her voice laced with fury. "You've been lying to us this whole time, haven't you?" Her words were like a whip cracking through the suffocating silence.
Olaedo's eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked lost, the weight of the accusation pressing down on her like a physical force.
She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and defiance. So much different from her usual confident self. The thought of disappointing Chibuzor got more and more painful by the minute "Ifeoma, you don't understand. These messages are from six months ago! This is being twisted--"
"Twisted?" Ifeoma cut in, her tone growing sharper, filled with disbelief and indignation. "You said you loved him and wanted to marry him! How is that twisting anything?"
She felt stupid for letting her guard down after spending time with Olaedo and now, her brother would pay the price of this.
The room seemed to close in on Olaedo, the murmurs of the guests growing louder, a chorus of speculation and judgment. Some gasped in shock; others exchanged knowing glances. The older women whispered among themselves, eyes flickering with a mix of pity and glee.
The men shifted uncomfortably, their brows furrowed as they tried to piece together the story, torn between the drama and the implications for the family's reputation.
Mr. Arinze's face darkened, eyes narrowing as he exchanged a tense glance with his wife. The stepmother, standing beside him with a sly smirk, basked in the chaos she had stirred.
Her lips curled in satisfaction as she watched the family's foundation crack under the weight of the scandal. The moment she had long waited for had finally arrived, and she reveled in it, the mask of civility slipping just enough to reveal her triumph.
Chibuzor stood in the middle of the maelstrom, his back straight and arms crossed, the sharp lines of his jaw tight. The calm mask he wore was starting to splinter, the cracks exposing a storm he hadn't anticipated.
His mind raced, spinning with questions he had no answers to. Why did it matter so much to him if Olaedo still harbored feelings for Maduabuchi? This marriage, this contract, was meant to be a strategic alliance, not a romance.
Yet, as her voice broke and her eyes glistened with unshed tears, something twisted inside him. A pang of possessiveness that left him confused, angry, and ashamed all at once.
'No, it shouldn't matter,' he thought, swallowing the thick knot in his throat. 'Why am I even feeling this way?'
He could feel the eyes of the room on him, and though they all waited for his reaction, the only one he could focus on was Olaedo. She stood with her head high, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. She was fighting, but the battle was slipping from her grasp, and with it, the fragile trust he had begun to build in her.
"Chibuzor," his father's voice cut through his thoughts, low and tense. "We need to deal with this. We can't let this taint the family name."
For a heartbeat, Chibuzor felt his world shift. The room was spinning, filled with accusations and doubt, but his father's words brought him back to the present. He pushed down the swirling storm of his own emotions and forced his mind to focus.
He needed answers. He needed to know if the woman he had welcomed into his home, the woman who had surprised him in ways he couldn't admit, was a liar or a pawn in a game he hadn't seen coming.
Olaedo's voice cracked again, reaching him through the noise, and he looked at her, searching for any trace of deceit, any flicker of guilt. "You all don't understand. I never sent those messages with any intention to hurt the family. Maduabuchi, he was someone I let go. I never intended for any of this to come back. Please, believe me—"
"Enough," Ifeoma hissed, her face set in an expression of pure fury, eyes glistening with a mixture of hurt and anger. The room hushed, waiting for Chibuzor's response, eyes darting between him and the woman who stood on the verge of breaking.
The silence grew heavy, pressing down on Chibuzor like a weight. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. What was he supposed to say? That he wanted to believe her? That part of him still hoped she was telling the truth, despite the evidence on display? The truth felt slippery, impossible to grasp. And it gnawed at him.
The murmur of voices rose again, a wave of doubt and speculation, but Chibuzor stayed silent, a storm brewing beneath his stony exterior, as the room waited for his next move.
Olaedo stepped forward, her heart pounding like a war drum as the eyes of the room fixed on her. The weight of judgment, of whispers and gasps, pressed down on her. She had fought so hard to be here, to prove herself worthy of this place, and now, with one unfounded accusation, it felt as if everything she had built was crumbling.
Her voice trembled but remained resolute as she spoke, the tremor only adding to the rawness of her words. "Yes, those messages are real, but they were sent months before I even met Chibuzor. I've had no contact with Maduabuchi since then!"
The silence that followed seemed to stretch into infinity, and then, a snide laugh sliced through it. The man standing on stage, Maduabuchi's best friend, smirked, eyes glinting with satisfaction as he pointed at her. "Convenient excuse, isn't it? But the truth is plain to see."
Olaedo's blood surged with indignation, the bitterness of betrayal mixing with her confusion. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her skin as she fought for composure. How had it come to this? How had a carefully laid plan to humiliate her been executed so effortlessly?
She straightened, lifting her chin with a strength that surprised even her. "Enough Adamu!" she snapped, her voice cracking like a whip across the room. The harshness of her tone sent a shiver through the crowd, making some step back in surprise. "You've twisted this narrative to humiliate me, but I will not let you tarnish my name without a fight!"
A murmur of approval rolled through some of the guests, the ones who were still willing to believe in her. A few servants exchanged glances, their earlier doubts clouded by the spark of defiance in Olaedo's eyes.
But others, like Ifeoma, shifted uncomfortably, the doubt planted in her mind taking root and growing with each passing second. The room was thick with tension, the kind that left everyone holding their breath, waiting for the next move.