The room glittered with opulence, and an ornate cake held center stage.
But joy was the furthest from Sadie’s feelings.
She took in the spectacle, the color still absent from her cheeks.
Zayden lounged on a sofa, his amusement apparent as he observed Sadie.
Sadie took a seat opposite him.
Her eyes, sharp and searching, met his.
“What's your game?” she questioned.
Zayden’s grin widened.
“Oh Sadie, always so fiery. Just thought I'd celebrate your birthday with you,
making this day special.” He leaned in, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Swiftly, Sadie swatted his hand away, her gaze a molten mix of rage and fear.
“Cut the theatrics. What do you know?” she challenged, voice steely.
“If you're trying to intimidate me, just spill everything at once!”
Zayden’s playful smirk faded. With a simple gesture, he ordered everyone else in
the room to exit.
As the last person left, he reclined on the sofa, leisurely lighting up a cigar, the
orange glow briefly illuminating his face.
Watching him, unease gnawed at Sadie. Her hands tightened involuntarily,
preparing herself for the next revelation.
Drawing in a deep drag, Zayden locked eyes with Sagie his voice laced with amusement.
“When are you planning to see Marianna?”
At the mention of that name, Sadie felt as though the rug had been pulled from beneath het feet; she struggled to find words.
Unfazed, Zayden continued, smoke swirling around him.
“You've been living the high life for
five years, and yet you're never visited your own mother. She's in that sanatorium, right? Helen Clarke?”
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