Her senses consumed by Ray's soulful voice, the beat of 'Choice' pulsating through her headset, she was oblivious to the world around her.
As she crossed the road, a G-wagon, a behemoth of automotive excellence, loomed into view, its horn blaring like a battle cry.
Her head, turning in a slow, dreamlike motion, caught sight of the vehicle moments before impact. She froze, time slowing to a crawl as the car hurtled towards her, her eyes shutting tight, her body tensing in anticipation of the inevitable.
The sound of tires screeching, a symphony of panic, reverberated in her ears, and she braced herself for the impact that would forever change her life.
The driver door opened and a man in suit hurried out of the car. "You should be conscious of where you are going, you might not be as lucky next time!" He admonished, his words a sobering reminder of her brush with fate.
Her eyes fell open and she apologized, "I'm sorry, sir."
The door of the back seat opened.
As the door of the back seat opened, its hinges silently protesting under the weight of the mystery occupant, the world around Choice seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the door inched wider, unveiling the silhouette of a man in his prime. His tailored black tuxedo, a masterful creation of craftsmanship and elegance, accentuated his athletic frame with effortless sophistication, and out of the front chest pocket, the corner of the blue handkerchief could be seen piercing out subtly.
His straight legs, a testament to the impeccable tailoring of his suit, led down to a pair of black leather shoes that glimmered in the sunlight, their perfection a mirror of his own.
Even with the veiling of his sunglasses, his face exuded the magnetism of a King, his chiseled features and beguiling lips a testament to his allure. He had such a strong presence, like that of a King.
Choice recognized him. He was her husband, the one she had wed in a haze of alcohol-fueled minds, sealing their vows with signatures.
The artist, this mogul and the President of Ray Kee Entertainment was the same Ray who stood before her now, his presence a revelation of the life she had unknowingly chosen.
She knew him. She had married him. He was her idol.
She froze in disbelief. How was this possible? She was staring at her idol and also her mistake husband, she had been trying so hard to get an appointment and talk to him about their marriage for about a week. She knew he had no idea he was married, and she too was shocked to find a marriage certificate and document on her bed when she woke up the morning after the incident.
She was only eighteen years old.
Eighteen and married, her life entwined with a man whose very presence commanded the attention of the world.
"Gerard, I have a meeting to attend," he said coldly, but respectfully to his assistant.
How rude of him, his car almost hit her and he didn't care.
"Isn't that Ray?" Choice asked, "I want to talk to him."
"Sorry you can't, he's a bus..." Gerard was saying.
Choice interrupted, her tone high-pitched enough, so Ray could hear, "I'm his wife!"
The two men stared at her stunned.
How on earth...did he hear her right? Gerard chuckled.
Ray scoffed and smirked, "Gerard, get into the car and start the engine," he ordered and was about to sit back in the car when Choice told him to wait. His brows furrowed, "look girl, stop being too obvious, I have business to attend to."
She frowned, "you think I'm being too obvious, huh? We got married last week, on a Friday after we both got drunk at burning petal club. I was trying to find my way home in my drunk state when some stranger from nowhere pulled me across the club Into a wedding chapel..."
"Hold on," Ray stopped her words.
Friday night. That fateful night, when he stumbled upon Nicole and Maxwell, a vision of betrayal seared into his memory, he had been full of rage. But Choice, her recollection of their marriage, seemed like a drunken fantasy, an improbability that he refused to accept.
No. There was no way he must have stupidly gotten married to a total stranger, but still, he remained calm because there were no proof that they did get married.
"Big boss, do you believe what she just said?" Gerard asked not knowing what to make out of the whole drama.
Ray motioned with two fingers for Choice to come closer. He closed the door, his eyes filled with a cold glare that could make someone wish the earth could open and swallow them, but Choice kept her confidence, bravery, and an expressionless face. She went to him and met his gaze, she was looking straight into his eyes, no one had ever dared to look the almighty big boss of the entertainment industry in the eye. He was surprised but made sure he didn't show it.
How dare she.
"How dare you look the big boss straight in the eyes," Gerard scolded and she lowered her gaze to Ray's chin.
"Name your price," these three words came out of Ray's mouth as a huge mountain of ice.
Choice's gaze narrowed on his face, "what do you mean by that?"
"What don't you understand? I'm sure you're one of them; Desperados, gold diggers, and hype seekers..."
A slap from Choice stopped the flow of his words.
Gerard's eyes widened in shock as he rushed to Ray's side. "Big boss, are you okay? Do I get you a park of ice and call the police on her?"
"I'm fine, Gerard," he said and focused his attention back on the fearless stranger, who even knowing his position raised her hand on him, her eyes were red with fury.
Her words, a stinging rebuke, lashed out like a viper's venom, her anger a volatile flame that crackled with ferocity.
"How dare you? How dare you say those slanderous words to me?" She hissed, her gaze narrowed and cold.
But Gerard, loyal and steadfast, stood between them, a guardian shield of unwavering devotion.
"No, how dare you hit the big boss?" He spat, his words carrying the weight of his allegiance.
Ray's hand firm against Gerard's chest, moved him to the side with a gesture as effortless as it was authoritative. The absence of cameras, a small mercy in the grand scheme of things, granted them a semblance of privacy, the heated confrontation a tempest of emotions kept out of the public eye, else that would have been the hottest topic in the world the next day.
"Look here girl," he began, his voice as sharp as a scalpel's edge. "You have no proof that I got married to you, and also I demand an apology for the slap and then I'll let you walk freely without having to sue you for obstruction and harassment."
Choice scoffed and shook her head, "you think I don't have proof?" She took out a file from her totebag, "Here is your proof."
Her retort, a dagger of defiance, cut through the air as she produced the file, its contents the incontrovertible truth of their union.
He stood silent, his gaze fixed on the document in his hands with 'marriage certificate' branded boldly at the top, his mind racing as he processed the implications of what he held. Finally, his voice, cold and level, broke the silence.
"Get in the car," he commanded not staring at anyone in particular, his tone leaving no room for argument, his words a sledgehammer of authority.
"Yes, big boss," the curt gesture, a flourish of submission, cemented Gerard's loyalty as he hastened to the driver's seat, obeying his superior without question.
Ray's words, like acid, burned through the silence. "You too, stranger girl, get your cheap fragranced self into the car," he spat, his contempt a stinging rebuke and he settled in the backseat. Choice's nostrils flaring in a silent surge of indignation, remained rooted to the ground, defiance coursing through her veins. "Don't tell me you're also deaf, move off my window, I need fresh air."
As she retreated to the other end of the backseat, her gaze turned outward, fixed on the blur of streetlamps and skyscrapers, the sound of papers being rustled a background noise to her tumultuous thoughts.
The thrum of the car's engine, a steady rhythm, was abruptly punctuated by the shrill ring of a phone. Gerard's face, a portrait of concern, held up the device, the caller ID revealed as none other than 'Queency'.
"Big Boss?" He asked for permission.
A single nod, terse and efficient, passed between the two men, a silent exchange that conveyed tacit approval.
With a measured gesture, Gerard accepted the call, his voice, a careful balance of courtesy and deference, greeting the woman on the other end.
"Hello, Queency. How may I help you?" he inquired, his tone betraying no hint of the whirlwind that had erupted in the past moments.
"Are you with Ray? I've been trying to get to him but to no avail." Queency said.
Raymond could hear her clearly, Gerard earlier on put the phone on speaker.
Gerard's response remained unchanged, his words a polished white lie.
"President Ray's work schedule is quite intense, but I will make sure to pass on your message to him and if I found the slightest chance on his schedule I'll be sure to put you through," he said, the polite fiction rolling off his tongue with practiced ease."
On hearing the reassurances she had just been given, Queency replied with an affectionate plea, her voice sweetly insistent.
"Tell my baby not to overstress himself and tell him to call me whenever he can."
"Will do that, Queency," he said and hung up.
Choice's ears attuned to the conversation, pondered the mysteries of Ray's relationship, his reticence a puzzle that begged to be solved.
As her eyes wandered to his profile, she caught a glimpse of his face, his features softened by a momentary vulnerability.
"Liar," her inner voice hissed, her indignation at his duplicity flaring anew. "You have a girlfriend but lie to the world that you don't. And you expect me to believe that you're single?" She seethed, her thoughts scathing and unyielding.
She looked away almost immediately.
It was none of her business anyway.