The front door of the apartment clicked shut, and the sound of Setto’s retreating footsteps finally died away down the corridor. Inside the living room, the absolute silence that followed felt wider and colder than it ever had before.
Tammy lay on her side on the sofa, her knees pulled tightly to her chest, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress.
The first sob tore from her throat before she could even stop it. A broken, choked sound that echoed into the empty room.
She didn’t hear the door open again twenty minutes later, nor did she register the soft rustle of clothes until Valerie was sitting on the edge of the cushion, gently putting a warm hand on her shoulder.
“Tammy,” Valerie whispered, her voice dropping into that deep, sisterly register that carried no judgment, only pure cover.
“Tammy, I’m here. Open your eyes, my love. Ehhh I’m here.”
Tammy lifted her head, her face pale, her eyes heavily bloodshot and swollen from the hours of continuous crying.
Seeing Valerie’s familiar, calm face was the final breaker. She sat up, leaning her forehead against her friend’s shoulder, her entire frame shaking violently as the dam completely broke.
“Valerie... they rejected Setto,” Tammy choked out, her hands gripping Valerie’s jacket.
“Ahhhh! My chest hurts.”
“Tell me,” Valerie said, her jaw tightening in the dim light as she rubbed Tammy’s back.
“What did they say, Tammy? Talk to me. Just spill everything.”
Tammy took a ragged breath, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.
“The moment i told them he was a northernen, it was like I dropped a bomb. Aunty Abike literally jumped off her seat screaming ‘God forbid! Olorun ma je!’ She said over her dead body would a daughter of this house bring a Hausa man home. Uncle Tade was shouting, calling his lineage a bloodline of killers, of good-for-nothing devils. They even told me that their culture would swallow me alive, that he would oppress me and lock me up. They shamed me, Val! They said I am single at my age, and instead of finding a proper Yoruba boy to marry, I am following a mallam. They literally made me feel like an abomination.”
Valerie’s hand stopped moving on Tammy’s back.
She sat perfectly still for three seconds, her breathing turning sharp and shallow as a fierce, unadulterated anger took over her features. She stood up, pacing, her hands gesturing wildly in her fury.
“Are they mad?” Valerie snapped, her voice rising in the quiet apartment, completely stripped of her usual polite corporate composure.
“No, tell me, are your aunties and uncles completely out of their minds? Where was Aunty Abike when you were struggling, trying to build your business from scratch? Where was Uncle Tade when you were selling off your personal belongings and fabric pieces just to pay Temitope’s school fees and keep Shindara in that university? Where?!”
“Valerie,”
“No oo! Don’t tell me to please anything! Omo, this thing is paining me!” Valerie stopped dead in her tracks, pointing a finger toward the wall.
“Where was their family pride when you were working extra nights, sleeping on table tops in the studio just to make sure there was food on the table for your siblings? None of them called to send you a single kobo! None of them asked how you were surviving! But now that God has remembered you, now that a godly, honorable man like Setto wants to marry you, they have the mouth to talk about tribe? They are calling him a mallam? God punish that mindset, honestly! Abeg!”
Tammy looked up at her friend, the sheer force of Valerie’s anger catching her completely off guard.
“See ehhh,” Valerie said, dropping back onto the sofa and throwing her hands up.
“If I were you, I would just carry my load, leave this country completely, and run to one far away country! Go to Mauritius or Canada and marry your man privately! Forget about all of them! Let them stay in their village and continue speaking their grammar!”
Tammy stared at her for a beat, and then, despite the heavy stone of grief in her chest, a short, breathless giggle escaped her lips.
The giggle turned into a chuckle, and within seconds, Tammy was laughing so hard her shoulders were shaking, wiping fresh tears from her eyes.
“Ehhhhenn?” Tammy laughed, looking at her friend with wide eyes.
“So you, Valerie, the quiet and decent girl, you are actually advising me to pack my bags and run away? You are telling me to go and marry without seeking the elders’ blessings? Look at you!”
Valerie stopped, looking at Tammy’s laughing face, and a reluctant, self-conscious smile finally broke through her own anger.
“No oo! Never! You know I will never advise that normally. Scripture is clear on honoring structures. But Tammy, I am actually pissed off! My chest is heavy on your behalf! Kai!”
Tammy’s laughter slowly subsided, leaving a soft, tired sigh in its wake.
She leaned her head back against the sofa cushions, her expression returning to that quiet, hollow exhaustion.
“Calm down, my friend,” Tammy whispered softly, reaching out to squeeze Valerie’s hand.
“Don’t be so mad on my behalf. I am just... I am really weak and tired, Val. For years, these same people have been asking me when I am bringing a man home. They kept pushing and pushing. Now, I finally bring a solid, responsible man who honors me, and they turn him down completely just because of his tribe? The whole thing just makes me feel so tired. I don’t even know what to do next.”
Valerie’s expression softened instantly, the anger draining out of her, replaced by a deep tenderness. She slid closer, wrapping her arms completely around Tammy’s frame, pulling her head down onto her shoulder.
“I know, my love,” Valerie murmured, her voice turning smooth and steady.
“I know you are tired. But let me tell you something that Purity was teaching me from the scriptures just last week. You see, we always think that when something is the absolute will of God, the path will just open up smoothly like a red carpet. But it’s a lie.”
Tammy stayed quiet, listening to the calm, rhythmic beat of Valerie’s heart.
“Look at the word, Tammy,” Valerie said, her voice carrying a sudden, profound weight that felt like it was coming straight from an altar.
“Remember when God promised the children of Israel the Promised Land? He didn’t say the land was empty. It was flowing with milk and honey, yes, but it was also full of giants. The adversary will always put his heaviest resistance at the gate of your greatest entry. This marriage... the devil has seen the kind of massive kingdom alignment that you and Setto are bringing, and he is terrified. He knows that if you two lock hands, you will destroy strongholds.”
Tammy lifted her head slightly, staring at Valerie’s face.
“The enemy is using their generational prejudice as a weapon to make you lose your peace, to make you second-guess God, and to make you push Setto away,” Valerie continued, her words slowing down, each one carrying the fire of deep conviction.
“But no weapon fashioned against you will prosper. Their words have no legal backing in the realm of the spirit. God has already settled this union. Your family might just be a weapon fashioned against you right now, but God is greater than them.”
Tammy sat back slowly, staring at her friend for a long minute, a soft, amazed smile touching her lips.
“Ahhahn, my friend,” Tammy breathed, her voice full of a sudden, deep respect.
“See you who was running from being mummy pastor before. Look at how you are rightly dividing the word of truth so perfectly. The word is sweet, Val. Thank you.”
Valerie blushed slightly, a warm, humble smile breaking across her face.
“It’s God oo. You know Purity has been holding my hands all the way through this journey. He doesn’t play with bible study in our house at all.”
Tammy looked down at Valerie’s midsection, her eyes softening completely as she placed a gentle, careful hand over her friend’s small bump.
“Speaking of my brother Purity... how is the pregnancy doing? How is my god-baby treating you?”
“The baby is fine,” Valerie beamed, her face radiating that beautiful, distinctive maternal glow.
“Apart from the weakness that wants to finish my life every day, we are thriving. The baby is growing well, thank God.”
Tammy’s face suddenly clouded with a brief wave of guilt, and she quickly pulled her hand back.
“Oh my goodness, Val... I am so sorry. Look at me bringing you out of your house in this your delicate state, at this midnight hour when you are supposed to be resting properly. I am so selfish.”
“Ah ah, stop that nonsense, Tammy!” Valerie snapped playfully, slapping Tammy’s knee gently.
“What are you saying? You are always there for everybody. It’s time for us to be there for you. Don’t ever say that again.”
Valerie’s face turned serious again. She reached out, taking both of Tammy’s hands into her own, locking their fingers together tightly.
“Let us pray,” Valerie said softly.
“Tammy. We will take this matter to the one who actually holds the hearts of kings.”
Tammy closed her eyes, bowing her head as the living room became completely still.
“Father, in the name of Jesus,” Valerie began, her voice steady.
“Lord, we come before you tonight just as we are — tired, heavy, but completely trusting in your name. You see my sister Tamilore. You know her by name. You see the tears she cries, and you know the exact weight that has been pressing down on her chest. Father, we thank you because you are the one who brought Setto into her life. This is not a man she picked out of desperation; this is a man you tailored for her, a man who honors her, loves her, and wants to cover her.”
Valerie squeezed Tammy’s hands tighter, her voice rising with an undeniable, spiritual authority.
“So Lord, tonight, we stand against every voice of division. Every tongue of tribalism, every word of hatred, and every generational prejudice that rose up against her today. Father, we silence them right now by the blood of Jesus! We declare those words null and void. They have no power over her future, they have no power over her joy, and they cannot touch her destiny. Lord, the devil is actively fighting this marriage because he knows the power of their alignment. He wants to use her own flesh and blood to build a wall of confusion.”
“But you are not the author of confusion, Jesus,” Valerie prayed, her voice ringing with clear conviction.
“Where the enemy has brought chaos, we speak your supernatural peace. We pull down every satanic contention fighting Tammy’s mind. Give her clarity, Lord. Don’t let her carry the guilt or the shame of people who refuse to see your light. Give her and Setto superior wisdom on how to navigate this season. Guide their steps, shield their love, and build a hedge of fire around their hearts.”
Valerie took a deep breath.
“Father, we bless Setto wherever he is tonight. Comfort his heart, calm his mind, and keep him steady. We declare that this union will stand as a testament to your glory, and no human barrier can stop what you have decreed. Thank you, Lord, because the battle is already won. In Jesus’ mighty name we pray.”
“Amen! Amen!,” Tammy cried out, a long, deep breath leaving her body.
As the final words settled, she felt a literal, physical lightness lift off her shoulders.
The suffocating fog of rejection that had followed her all afternoon had reduced. She could breathe again.
Valerie sat back down, pulling Tammy into a final, long hug. As they pulled apart, Valerie wiped a stray tear from Tammy’s cheek and looked at her intentionally.
“Tomorrow morning, the very first thing you will do is call Setto,” Valerie instructed, her tone firm but loving.
“Do not push that man away, Tammy. He was completely frantic today, looking everywhere for you. He loves you fiercely. Call him.”
Tammy smiled, her eyes clear and steady for the first time all day.
“I won’t even call him. I’ll drive straight to his office tomorrow to see him face-to-face.”
Setto barely slept.
The previous night had been a grueling marathon of pacing his bedroom floor, his mind trapped in a loop of Tammy’s bloodshot eyes and the rigid, unyielding wall she had put up against him.
It was only around 2:30 AM that his phone finally buzzed with a text from Valerie:
She has eaten a bit, Setto. She’s sleeping now. Please calm down, she is safe.
He hadn’t just taken her word for it; the protective, restless edge in him had demanded proof.
Setto:
Send me a picture or video. Let me see her.
A few minutes later, Valerie sent a short, seven-second clip of Tammy curled up under a duvet, her face quiet in sleep, followed by a snapshot of the empty dinner plate on the bedside table.
Only then did he finally close his eyes, but the relief was small, quickly replaced by a heavy, aching sadness for his woman.
When his alarm went off at 5:00 AM, Setto dropped to his knees straight from his bed, resting his forearms against the mattress.
The morning light was just beginning to filter through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the room.
“Father,” Setto groaned, his deep voice thick.
“I lift up Tammy to you today. Lord, please heal her heart. Whatever venom her people injected into her spirit yesterday, let your blood flush it out. But God, I need you to do something deeper. Soften her heart towards me.”
He paused, rubbing his face with his hands, feeling the raw frustration of a man who wanted to protect a woman who wouldn’t let him in.
“She’s always trying to be the survivor, Lord,” he whispered into the quiet room.
“Always trying to be Tammy the big mummy, the one who handles everything alone, the one who has it all figured out. Even with me, she finds it so difficult to just be vulnerable. She doesn’t even call me any pet name, God. She’s so rigid with me, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Make her easygoing around me. Let her feel safe enough to collapse into my arms. It is too early in our journey to be facing these heavy adversities. Help us God. In Jesus name I pray. Amen”
He stood up, stretching his frame, but the knot in his chest remained tight.
By the time he was buttoning his crisp corporate shirt, he had made a decision.
He was going to call Pastor Ade.
He didn’t want to involve his own family yet, especially not after his mother’s joyful reaction; he couldn’t bring this chaos to her door so soon.
He needed spiritual counsel from the man who knew Tammy’s roots.
The morning at the office offered a brutal, high-stakes distraction, which was exactly what Setto needed to keep his mind from spinning out of control.
Inside the executive boardroom, the air was crisp, carrying the sterile chill of the central AC and the faint, rich scent of freshly brewed espresso.
A long, seamless slab of polished black quartz dominated the center of the room, flanked by leather chairs.
Setto sat at the head of the table, his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms.
Across from him sat Pieter van der Merwe, a weathered, sharp-eyed South African executive whose family had been in the continental shipping and freight logistics business for three generations.
Between them lay open folders, laminated structural maps of the West African coastline, and two half-empty glasses of water.
“Look, Setto,” Pieter said, his thick Afrikaner accent cutting through the quiet room as he leaned forward, tapping a heavy gold signet ring against the quartz.
“The numbers make sense on paper. They always do. But my board in Johannesburg is conservative. They look at the current clearing bottlenecks at the ports, they look at the demurrage fees, and they see a graveyard for capital. We need a guarantee that your transit corridor through Cotonou isn’t going to double our lead times for the natural resource shipments.”
Setto didn’t blink.
He leaned back slightly, interlocking his large fingers over his chest, his presence commanding the space without him needing to raise his voice.
“Pieter, your board is looking at old data,” Setto said, his deep bass voice calm, measured, and entirely unshaken by the older man’s posturing.
“The ports are congested because everyone is trying to force their way through the same front door. What my company is offering you isn’t just a shipping route; it’s an end-to-end bypassed logistics corridor. We’ve already secured the bonded terminal rights just across the border.”
Setto reached forward, pulling one of the laminated maps toward them and tracing a line with a heavy silver pen.
“We offload your vessels at the deep-sea port in Cotonou. From there, our dedicated fleet of heavy-duty haulage trucks moves the containers through our fast-track customs lane at the border. We bypass the main gridlock completely and drop the raw materials straight into your processing plants on the mainland within thirty-six hours of docking. If a single container sits at the border for more than four hours, my firm absorbs the demurrage. It’s written into section four of the draft contract.”
Pieter narrowed his eyes, studying Setto’s face.
He was looking for a flicker of hesitation, the slight nervous tick of a contractor trying to overpromise. He found nothing but iron certainty.
“And regional security?” Pieter asked, his tone dropping into a lower, more calculating register.
“The transit roads aren’t exactly a walk in the park, Setto. We’re moving high-value commodities. If we lose a convoy to local interference or regulatory ambush, insurance will only cover the cost of the cargo, not the lost time in our production cycle.”
Setto let out a short, quiet chuckle, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table.
“Pieter, I am a professional in this. My family has been moving goods across these sub-regional routes since before the borders were even drawn on this map. We don’t rely on luck, and we don’t rely on standard police escorts. Every single convoy we run is monitored via real-time satellite tracking from our central hub downstairs, and we use an independent, tier-one private security firm for the entire transit leg.”
He looked straight into the South African’s eyes, his gaze locking him down.
“I don’t lose cargo, Pieter. And more importantly, I don’t lose time. Your production cycle in Johannesburg will not experience a single day of downtime. You have my word on that, and my name is signed at the bottom of that page.”
Pieter stared at him for a long, heavy beat, the silence in the boardroom stretching out until the older man finally let out a slow, appreciative breath.
A dry smile broke across his weathered face, and he slapped his palm against the table.
“You’re a tough bastard to argue with, Setto,” Pieter chuckled, sliding the leather folder back into his briefcase and snapping the brass latches shut.
“Alright. I’ll present the section-four demurrage clause to the board on Monday morning. If they swallow it, which they likely will, given the guarantee, we sign the primary agreement by Thursday.”
Setto stood up, pulling his jacket off the chair and slipping it over his broad shoulders with an easy, practiced grace. He extended his large hand across the quartz table.
“They will swallow it, Pieter. Because they know that running with us is the only way your competitors don’t leave you behind in the third quarter. Travel safely back to Jo’burg.”
“Thanks, mate,” Pieter smiled, gripping Setto’s hand in a brief, firm handshake before gathering his files and walking out of the boardroom.
Setto stayed behind for a moment, letting out a long, heavy sigh as the door clicked shut.
The professional armor he had worn so flawlessly for the last two hours began to crack, the memory of Tammy’s tears rushing back into his mind.
He picked up his phone from the table. Still no missed calls, still no texts.
He rubbed the back of his neck, his muscles tight with an agonizing worry as he walked back toward his private office.
He swallowed the bitterness in his throat, adjusted his webcam, and logged into a crucial virtual board meeting with his European logistics partners to manage the rest of his day.
“Yes, Jan, we can look at the clearing rates for the third quarter.” Setto was saying, his eyes on the screen, when a sharp, chaotic noise filtered through his heavy oak office door.
Outside on the reception floor, his secretary’s voice was rising in panic.
“Madam, you cannot go in there! Ma, he is in a highly confidential meeting! Madam, please!”
A loud, sharp female voice cut through the secretary’s protests.
“Move out of my way, sweetie. I had access to this floor before you even learned how to write a CV.”
Setto’s hand froze over his notebook.
His jaw clenched so hard the bone clicked. He knew that voice.
He knew it with a sickening clarity that instantly turned the blood in his veins to ice.
“Jan, Pierre, I’m incredibly sorry,” Setto said into his microphone, his voice dropping into a cold, flat register that masked the sudden violence in his chest.
“Something urgent has just come up in my terminal. I will have to reschedule this session for 2:00 PM. My apologies.”
He clicked the laptop shut just as his heavy office door burst open with a loud, aggressive thud.
His secretary stumbled into the room behind the intruder, her face flushed, her glasses slightly askew from trying to physically block the doorway.
“I’m so sorry, sir!” she gasped, her breathing shallow as she looked at Setto with terror.
“I tried stopping her, I swear, but she completely pushed past me. She kept saying she has full access to the building. The security guards downstairs gave her a VIP elevator pass because her old entry credentials were never officially revoked in the central system! I’m so sorry, sir.”
“It’s fine,” Setto cut her off, his voice dangerously calm, his dark eyes fixed entirely on the woman who had just stepped into his sanctuary.
“Leave us. Close the door.”
Chloe turned around slowly, dusting off the sleeve of her sharp, ridiculously expensive designer dress with an air of supreme boredom.
She looked down at the secretary, a sultry, condescending smile stretching across her perfect makeup.
“You heard your boss, sweetie. Run along. And next time you try to put your hands on my fabric, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
The secretary quickly backed out, slamming the heavy oak door shut behind her.
The office fell into a suffocating, dead silence.
Chloe stood in the center of the plush Persian rug, her sultry, tight-fitting outfit leaving very little to the imagination, her heels clicking loudly as she took a slow, calculated step toward his desk.
She oozed the classic, toxic confidence that had once completely blinded him years ago.
Setto sat perfectly still behind his desk, his shoulders tense under his grey shirt.
Oh God. What kind of temptation is this? Why is everything happening at once? Tammy is being difficult and now this devil is standing in my office?
“What are you doing in my office, Chloe?” Setto asked, his voice low, steady, but vibrating with a fierce, quiet fury.
“Better yet, what are you doing in Nigeria?”
Chloe let out a low, musical laugh, stepping closer and lifting a manicured hand as if she wanted to lean against the edge of his mahogany desk.
“Oh, Sweet pea... is that how you welcome the mother of your child? No hug? No ‘welcome back’?”
“Don’t touch that desk,” Setto snapped, his hand slamming flat against the wood with a sharp crack that made the pens in the holder rattle. He pointed a heavy, unyielding finger at the leather armchair opposite him.
“Sit down there as a normal guest. Do not try to sit on my desk. You lost that right the day you walked out of my life. Sit.”
Chloe’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, seeing the absolute lack of warmth or foolishness in his eyes.
She shrugged her shoulders, her gold jewelry clinking.
“Whatever. You’ve gotten bigger, I see. Richer too.” She sat down, crossing her legs elegantly, leaning back as if she owned the space.
“I just came to see how you are doing. And to find out how our daughter, Eliana, is faring.”
Setto let out a harsh, dry scoff that sounded like a bark of pure disgust.
“Our daughter? Our daughter, Chloe?” He leaned forward, his frame dominating the space across the desk, his eyes burning into hers.
“The one you abandoned when she was barely few months old? The one you left crying in a crib because you said motherhood was draining your aesthetic and your freedom? You have the mouth to call her your daughter?”
Chloe laughed again, a light, careless sound that made Setto’s stomach turn.
“Oh, please, Setto, don’t be dramatic. I didn’t abandon her. I only left for a while to clear my head and find myself in Europe. You know how stressful everything was. But I have realized my mistakes now, and I’m back. I’m not expecting us to be a happy little family again, obviously.”
“Never,” Setto said, the word coming out like a final, heavy iron gate slamming shut.
“We can never be together again. There is absolutely nothing left for you here.”
“Like I said, whatever,” Chloe waved her hand dismissively, her eyes scanning his expensive office decor.
“I’m not here to beg you or romance you, Setto. Let’s be real. But the real father of my baby is back in the picture, and he wants his baby back. We want our daughter back so we can live together as one family.”
Setto froze. The air inside his lungs completely solidified.
He stared at her, his lips parting slightly as his brain tried to process the sheer, monstrous weight of the words that had just left her mouth.
“What?” Setto stuttered, his voice losing its iron composure for the first time, cracking with a raw, sudden horror.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me,” Chloe said smoothly, leaning forward.
“What father?!” Setto roared, standing up to his full, towering height, his chair flying backward against the credenza.
“What father, Chloe?! Where was this father when I was fighting for that baby’s life in the hospital? Where was he when she was burning with fever and I had to stay up for days holding her against my chest? Where was he when I took her as my own flesh and blood, put my family name on her birth certificate, and protected her from your madness?! Where?!”
“Look, all that history doesn’t matter anymore,” Chloe snapped, her tone turning cold and business-like, the sultry act completely dropping away.
“The biological father wants his child back, and he has the financial backing to make it happen. You have no choice but to give him his baby, Setto. I’m giving you exactly three days to think about it, to pack her things, and to accept the reality. I will be back here on Monday to get my daughter.”
She stood up, smoothing down her dress with a smug, victorious grin, completely satisfied with the absolute devastation she had just dropped into his life.
Chloe turned on her heels and began walking toward the heavy oak door, her high heels clicking a triumphant rhythm against the floorboards.
Setto stood behind his desk, his chest heaving violently, his hands gripping the mahogany edge so hard his knuckles were entirely white. His mind was spinning into a dark, chaotic abyss.
Eliana. They want to take Eliana.
Just as Chloe reached the door and pulled it open to step out into the reception area, she almost collided directly with someone walking in.
Tammy stood in the doorway.
She was dressed in a sharp, beautiful emerald-green corporate jumpsuit, her hair neatly packed, her face looking pale but entirely composed.
She had her car keys in her hand, having driven straight from her apartment to see her man just as she had promised Valerie.
Chloe stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes instantly scanning Tammy from her hair down to her shoes.
A sharp, venomous light sparked in Chloe’s eyes as recognition set in. She tilted her head, a wicked, amused smile spreading across her face.
“Ohhh,” Chloe purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she stepped closer to Tammy, forcing her to stand her ground in the doorway.
“The famous new girlfriend. I’ve seen you in his IG story. Look at you.”
Tammy didn’t flinch. She stood tall, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sultry, aggressive presence of the woman in front of her.
She could feel the heavy, vibrating tension coming from inside Setto’s office.
“Hello,” Chloe smiled sneeringly, extending a manicured hand that Tammy didn’t even bother to look at.
“I’m Chloe. His wife. Orrr... former wife, and the mother of his child. It’s so nice to meet you. I just came to catch up on some very important... family matters.”
Tammy kept her face completely unreadable, but her eyes locked onto Chloe with a cold, unshakeable stability that completely refused to be intimidated.
“See you later, sweetie,” Chloe whispered, her smile widening at the silence.
She looked past Tammy’s shoulder, throwing a mock, airy kiss into the office toward Setto, who was currently standing behind his desk, fuming, his face dark with a terrifying rage.
“Three days, Setto!” Chloe called out loudly, before brushing past Tammy with a heavy scent of expensive perfume, her heels clicking rapidly as she disappeared into the VIP elevator lobby.
Tammy stood alone in the doorway, the echo of Chloe’s words hanging in the air.
She slowly turned her head, her clear, deep eyes looking into the office, where Setto stood looking like a wounded lion, his entire world collapsing from all sides.
Hehehehehehehehehe.. I don’t even know what to say.
Pray for this ship oo.
Kindly like, comment and restack.
Madam Chloe, you better fly or teleport even back to Europe oh.
From the title, I already know the child's mother is back and I haven't even read it yet. Oh Chim😭