Chapter 87
Bilal stormed out of the restaurant, every step sharp and deliberate.
He was furious.
No.
Furious wasn't enough to describe the storm raging inside him.
Humiliated.
That was the word.
His hands curled into fists as he struggled to contain himself.
How dare she?
How. Dare. She?
She had looked him in the eye—without fear, without hesitation—and rejected him.
As though he meant nothing.
As though he had become insignificant.
His jaw tightened.
"She thinks she's something special now," he muttered bitterly. "Just because some pretty boy is standing beside her."
His eyes darkened.
"If not for Grandpa, I wouldn't even be here."
Behind him, Riley, his assistant, adjusted the files in his arms and tried his utmost best to blend into the background.
Invisible.
Silent.
Professional.
At least on the outside.
Because inwardly?
He was unleashing an entirely different speech.
Serves you right.
With the way you treated her, you expected Rayyan to wait around forever?
Idiot.
Such a remarkable woman, and you threw her away because of your arrogance and foolishness.
Riley felt no sympathy.
Only disappointment.
He had watched Bilal destroy something precious with his own hands.
He had watched him mistake patience for weakness.
Loyalty for convenience.
Love for entitlement.
What a pity.
If only I could say it to your face.
He sighed quietly.
Bilal stopped abruptly and turned around.
"Riley."
The assistant immediately straightened.
"Sir."
"Find out everything about that man."
His tone was calm.
Too calm.
"I want more than the reports I received while abroad."
"Yes, sir."
"And verify if they're truly engaged."
"Understood."
Riley lowered his gaze respectfully.
"Yes, sir."
Inside, however, he was cursing.
Your grandfather should have allowed you to reap the consequences of your actions instead of dragging an innocent woman into your mess.
Hypocrite. Two-faced man.
You came from a disciplined family. An average Muslim home, but you were raised strictly. Born to people who tried their best to teach you the little they knew about Deen, love, and virtues.
Two years ago, Grandpa Whitney handed everything over to Sulaimon and left the country, saying he wanted to enjoy his last days with his woman, traveling around the world. All the company affairs were left to Sulaimon to dictate, both home and overseas.
Sulaimon was Bilal's cousin. His father and Bilal's mother were siblings.
Sulaimon was Grandpa's favorite. Everyone knew it, but no one complained because he proved capable. Though Bilal's work life was okay, his social and family life was worse. Far different from Sulaimon's lifestyle.
Why become another person? It baffled Riley.
You were loved.
Guided.
Protected.
Raised with principles.
Yet the moment you tasted freedom abroad, you discarded everything your parents taught you.
For what?
To appear sophisticated?
Civilized?
To prove you were a modern man?
A real man?
You chased temporary pleasures instead.
Women.
Clubs.
Smoking.
Endless nights wasted in meaningless indulgence.
You changed because no one was watching.
No one was there to correct you.
I wonder what your parents would feel if they knew how rotten you've become.
How devastated they would be to realize that the girl they deemed unsuitable was perhaps the greatest blessing their family had ever received.
God placed Rayyan in your path for a reason.
To steady you.
To remind you of who you once were.
But pride has a way of making devils out of wounded men.
And you refused to listen until you nearly ruined her.
Riley's resentment deepened.
He had begged Senior Mr. Whitney countless times to release him from this assignment.
The old man had refused every single time.
"You'll stay beside him," he had said.
"Until he remembers himself."
Riley glanced sideways at Bilal.
Some days, he wondered if that day would ever come.
They settled inside the car.
Minutes turned into an hour.
An hour passed into silence.
Outside, Rihannat and her friends eventually emerged from the restaurant and disappeared into the evening.
Still, neither Bilal nor Riley moved.
Bilal stared blankly through the tinted windows.
Lost.
Trapped within thoughts he could neither silence nor untangle.
Riley, despite being Christian, had grown fond of working with the Whitney family abroad.
Unknown to almost everyone, he himself was an heir.
His parents had entrusted him to the Whitneys to sharpen his abilities before inheriting their own business empire.
Only Senior Mr. Whitney knew the truth.
It was precisely why he had placed Riley beside Bilal.
As an observer.
A witness.
Perhaps even a safeguard.
Sulaimon Whitney oversaw every branch of the family companies, both locally and internationally. At the end of each month, he personally visited different branches to supervise operations.
If only Sulaimon remained abroad permanently...
Senior Mr. Whitney would have dragged Bilal back to Nigeria long ago.
Jesus Christ.
Can this man just return to his hotel suite so I can visit his brother?
I can't stand him anymore.
Riley's silent grumbling almost made him miss Bilal's voice.
"What did you just say?"
Riley nearly choked.
"Nothing, sir."
Bilal studied him carefully.
Riley had changed.
The respectful obedience remained.
But now it felt rehearsed.
A polished mask.
Bilal wasn't stupid.
He had merely overlooked it.
Riley had never crossed the line.
So he let it pass.
Finally, Bilal leaned back against the seat.
"Let's go."
The driver nodded.
Just as the car began to move—
A figure stepped directly into their path.
Brakes screeched.
"What the hell?" Bilal snapped.
The driver's eyes widened.
A young woman stood before the vehicle.
A student.
At least, that was what her appearance suggested.
Yet there was something disturbingly unnatural about her.
A darkness hidden beneath the easy smile on her lips.
She walked confidently toward the tinted window.
Bilal lowered it slightly.
"What do you want?"
"You want Rayyan."
It wasn't a question.
"I know a lot about her."
She tilted her head.
"Care to join me for some ice cream?"
She pointed casually toward the same eatery Rihannat and her friends had just left.
Riley stiffened beside him.
Every instinct within him screamed caution.
The girl looked young.
Ordinary.
Yet the aura surrounding her was anything but innocent.
Danger.
It clung to her like perfume.
Would this idiot actually entertain a stranger?
Instead of correcting his mistakes and apologizing to his former wife?
She isn't married yet.
Only engaged.
Which means...
You still have a chance.
Riley closed his eyes briefly.
Then immediately corrected himself.
No.
Not a chance to reclaim ownership.
A chance to repent.
A chance to become worthy of forgiveness.
If she chose to give it.
Bilal stared at the strange girl standing beneath the streetlights.
Something about her smile unsettled him.
It wasn't warmth.
It wasn't friendliness.
It was calculation.
Like a hunter who had finally caught sight of wounded prey.
"Who are you?" Bilal asked quietly.
The girl's smile widened.
"You can call me Foxy."
The name hung in the air.
Behind the sweetness of her voice lurked something cold.
Something patient.
"I think," she said softly, "we can help each other."
Bilal looked at her longer, trying to read her eyes but all he saw was control and a calm, far older than her age.
He nodded and opened the door.
Riley was so agitated he almost vomited blood. "Where did Senior Mr. Whitney got this dog of a man as his grandson?" He muttered gritting his teeth.
Unknown to him...
A storm had begun to gather.
The frightening part?
Most of those standing beneath its shadow still believed they were the ones in control.
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