Chapter 1
The dining room chandelier cast a harsh, amber glow over the meticulously set table, illuminating the steam rising from plates of golden fried plantains and savory, spiced beef. Mama sat at the head of the table, her 55-year-old frame rigid beneath the crisp fabric of her purple patterned dress and matching purple gele headwrap. Her gold earrings caught the light as she trembled with suppressed fury, pointing a silver fork directly across the table at her thirty-year-old daughter, Maya. Maya sat draped in a sleek gold silk spaghetti strap dress, her long straight black hair falling gracefully over her shoulders. She wore a delicate gold pendant necklace that rose and fell with her remarkably steady breathing.
"Not even ashamed of yourself!" Mama shouted, her voice cutting through the heavy silence of the dining room like a blade.
"Not even have any children!"
Maya did not flinch. She slowly lowered her glass of water, her dark eyes locking onto her mother’s enraged face with chilling composure. She took a deliberate, measured breath before speaking, her tone infuriatingly calm.
"Why should I feel ashamed?" Maya asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Maybe it is your son that is not competent."
Mama froze, her eyes widening in a mixture of shock and violent outrage. She held her fork suspended mid-air, the utensil trembling as the sheer audacity of Maya’s words registered in her mind.
"Competent?!" Mama gasped, the word escaping her throat like a dry rattle.
Sitting directly between them, thirty-five-year-old David froze mid-motion. Dressed in a sharp black button-down shirt that hugged his trimmed beard and short dark hair, David looked up from his plate in utter shock. His eyes darted between his formidable mother and his fiercely defiant wife, his mouth slightly agape as the terrifying magnitude of what Maya had just claimed settled over the room.
The heavy air in the dining room turned ice-cold. Mama and Maya stared at each other in intense, unyielding tension across the table, neither of them blinking, neither of them backing down an inch. David sat trapped in the crossfire, unable to find his voice, watching the fragile foundation of their family shatter into a million irreparable pieces.
Mama leaned forward, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the mahogany table, her voice dropping to a terrifying, venomous whisper.
May you like
"What did you say?" Mama demanded, her eyes burning with a dangerous light.
Before Maya could answer, David’s phone buzzed loudly against the wooden table, the screen flashing with an incoming message from an unknown number that read: "The inheritance papers are ready for your signature."
