The truck rumbled softly beneath them, loaded with the few belongings that had made it out of their cramped, aging apartment. The Evans family sat together in the back, tightly packed but brimming with joy. Laughter bounced off the truck walls as their mother clutched her handbag like it was her last possession, eyes dancing with disbelief. Their father—usually so composed—was smiling so widely it made Kirah's heart clench.
"This truck is bouncing with joy o," Mayowa teased, nudging their younger brother who sat with a box of kitchen items on his lap.
Kirah, seated near the backdoor of the truck, held on to a folded duvet as the wind tousled strands of her hair. She kept her smile soft, her gaze on her family. This moment—this laughter, this sparkle in their eyes—was everything she had imagined when she'd started saving. The countless sacrifices, the sleepless nights, the restraint from things she longed for—all worth it.
"Kirah, you mean you planned this big move without even telling us how fine the place is?" her mom said with a mix of joy and mock reprimand.
"You'll see it soon, Mummy," Kirah chuckled. "Surprise is part of the plan."
The truck finally pulled into the quiet estate—gated, clean, and structured. The security guard at the entrance greeted them respectfully, recognizing Kirah from the day before. Her mother gave Kirah a wide-eyed look.
"Where are we going? Is this where governors live?"
Kirah just laughed as the truck rolled into the compound. When the engine went off and they all climbed down, there was a few seconds of stunned silence.
Then came the chorus.
"Jesus Christ!"
"Kirah!"
"Ha! Oh my oh my!"
"God, thank you!"
Their new home stood tall and elegant—a well-finished three-bedroom apartment with cream walls, modern fittings, and an aura of peace. A small patch of green sat beside the door, and the balcony up top offered views of a peaceful street lined with trees and humming quiet.
As soon as the door opened, and the scent of new furniture filled the air, her family became an unstoppable wave of emotions. Her father wandered the living room like he was afraid to touch anything, hands in his pocket, whispering prayers under his breath. Her mom fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she whispered, "God bless you, Kirah."
Even her teenage brother, who was usually too cool for emotions, looked genuinely moved as he tested the bouncing foam on one of the couches.
Kirah allowed them the moment. Let them enjoy it. Let them absorb it all. The LED TV she had picked out with Mayowa was already mounted. The fridge was humming gently. The curtains hung gracefully. It wasn't just a house—it was a gift.
They spent the entire afternoon arranging and unboxing. Mayowa took charge of the kitchen while their mother and Denzel made the bedrooms feel homely. Kirah coordinated the movers, directed placements, and got the generator connected. No one even remembered to sit down and eat for hours—they were busy dancing to the joy of new beginnings.
By evening, the house had come alive. Every bulb lit. Every drawer opened and shut perfectly. Every room echoed with the kind of joy that no amount of money could fake.
As they sat around the dining table, eating the food their mother had insisted on cooking despite being exhausted, Kirah finally allowed herself to relax. She leaned into the chair, smiling faintly as she sipped a cold glass of malt.
"You've done well," her dad said in his usual calm tone, breaking the warm silence.
"I'm so proud of you, sis," Mayowa added with a wide grin.
Kirah nodded, forcing the smile to stay.
She was proud too. But inwardly—she groaned.
All her savings—everything she had managed to store up over the years—was gone. Flat. She hadn't just dipped into her reserves; she had emptied them. It was terrifying. The joy on her family's faces filled her heart, but the fear of how much she'd spent tightened in her chest.
Well, there was still her job. At least her next salary was huge. It was her only comfort for now.
She sighed quietly and let the rest of her thoughts drift while the family ate.
Her job.
Vierra Holdings.
Even with the politics in the office and the side-eyes from colleagues who thought her stuck-up or arrogant just because she did her job right, she was grateful to be there. The pay was good. The opportunity—bigger than most would ever get at her age. She'd keep going. No distractions. No drama.
And certainly—no more thoughts about Dominic Vierra.
She cursed him silently. "Jerk"! How dare he act like nothing happened? How dare he treat her like a random office girl he'd conquered and moved on from? She wasn't some secretary desperate for his attention. She had given him her virginity. Twenty-four years of saying no, of holding back—for a man who wouldn't even look her in the eye after?
Worse, she had to deal with him at work.
Well, fine. She'd face her job. She'd do her best. And if she could, she'd avoid him completely. No matter how tall, handsome, or powerful he was. Even if her body still remembered how it felt under his touch—she'd remind her heart to forget.
Monday would come soon. And she'd rise—again.
As the family settled in for the night, Kirah stepped out onto the balcony alone. The cool evening air kissed her cheeks as she looked out at the peaceful street below.
Behind her, laughter still echoed faintly from the rooms. That was her reward. Their joy.
She would rebuild her account. Buy herself a new apartment. Let her family enjoy this space. She'd face life. Face Vierra Holdings. And if her boss wanted to play dirty games, she'd make sure he never touched her piece on the board again.
"goddamn jerk" she couldn't help but curse at him.