ZURI: Salvatore

FIVE YEARS LATER

The loud ringing from my phone interrupts the moment with my daughter, and I want nothing more than to ignore it, but curiosity gets the better of me. I hastily grab my phone and glance at the caller ID.

Cora's name flashes on the screen. My best friend knows better than to call during my sacred baking time.

I answer with a hint of annoyance, "Is it urgent?"

"Well, erm..." Cora's pause sends a shiver down my spine before she says, "Your ex-husband... the one who died four years ago... He's suddenly—"

I hang up, my body shaking uncontrollably as I fumble through my phone to check the trending headlines.

My eyes widen in horror at the screen.

"LORENZO SALVATORE, BUSINESS MAGNATE & BILLIONAIRE, SET TO WED ONE OF SOCIETY'S HEIRESS ALEXANDRA VAN DER MEER"

"The hell?" I whisper, staring at the picture beneath the headline.

There he stood, my supposedly deceased ex-husband, beside my business rival, Alexandra Van Der Meer, a hint of a smile etched on his chiseled face.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as my heart races. "He's alive... he's alive."

Bloody hell! Lorenzo looks different! More rugged, older, and devastatingly attractive. A pang of possessiveness hits me; he looks mine!

After our divorce, I obsessively tracked his movements for a year. But when he supposedly died in that accident with his foster parents four years ago, I was consumed by grief. Only my daughter kept me sane.

But wait. Salvatore?

I freeze, my eyes scanning more of the headline again.

"SHOCKING TWIST: FORMER CELEBRITY CHEF LORENZO ROSSI, PRESUMED DEAD SINCE FOUR YEARS AGO, FOUND ALIVE AND REVEALED AS MISSING SALVATORE HEIR. LORENZO RECLAIMS TITLE, STATUS AMONG GLOBAL ELITE."

Tears stream down my face as I drop my phone onto the cushion. I bury my face in the soft fabric, overwhelmed. "He's alive. He's really alive."

Zolani's concerned voice breaks the spell. "Mummy?"

I open my eyes to find her standing before me, worry carved on her adorable face.

"Mummy, you're crying," she says, her lips pursed, her eyes welling up with unshed tears.

"Oh no, sweetie." I pull her onto my lap, embracing her tightly. "Mummy's okay. I'm just very happy right now."

She looks up at me with curious eyes. "What makes Mummy happy?" she asks, her voice innocent. "Did you dream about Daddy again?"

I can't help but laugh, touched that she truly understands what makes me happy. I smile, kissing her cheek. "Something like that, baby."

Should I reveal that her father is actually alive? How will she react?

"Come on, sweetie. Let's get back to our afternoon baking session." I smile, and we head back to the kitchen, where the sweet aroma of sugar and flour wraps us, and the soft hum of the mixer hovers.

"Mommy, can I add more sprinkles?" Zolani asks, her large amber eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Of course, sweetie," I reply, handing over the container.

As my four-year-old daughter expertly mixes sprinkles into the batter, my worries fade away.

Being with Zolani, surrounded by flour-dusted countertops and sweet aromas during our baking sessions, is a safe haven from life's stress and drama.

Just us, no distractions. No nagging parents, no greedy relatives, no computer screens, no troublesome work proposals. Only Zolani's flour-smudged face that lights up my world.

"Now, let's follow the recipe carefully," I say, picking up the cookbook written by the "late Chef Lorenzo Rossi".

Late... or so I thought.

Our divorce was peaceful, a mutual decision, but the what-ifs still haunted me. I spent four years blaming myself for letting him go, convinced that if I'd only held on, he'd still be mine, still be alive.

But... Lorenzo's alive. And not just alive – he's one of the most powerful people in the world.

"Yess!!" Zolani giggles, mixing the batter faster.

"Add a pinch of salt," I instruct.

She adds exactly a pinch, then looks up at me, beaming. "Did I do it right?"

"You did it perfectly, my love," I assure her, gently dusting the flour from her curly black hair. "Time to put it in the oven."

Zolani cocks her head curiously, popping a sprinkle into her mouth. "How long will it take, Mummy?"

I take a breath to respond, but a guard walks in, his head bowed in respect. "Ms. King,"

I shoot him a displeased glance. "I didn't request your presence."

Zolani's frown mirrors mine. She knows interruptions are rare and only happens when something's urgent.

"Your parents are here, Ms. King," the guard announces, before departing nervously.

Zolani grips my arm tightly. "Mummy," she whines.

"I'll be with you soon, baby," I whisper, planting a kiss on her forehead. She nods slowly, then suddenly jumps off my lap and dashes out of the kitchen, fleeing to the haven of her own space.

I rise from my seat and stroll into the sitting room, where I take a seat, watching my parents stride in with effortless elegance and confidence, as if they own the place. I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes in displeasure.

"Unwanted guests are coming in," My father, Elias King, loosens his tie, his pale eyes weighed down by disappointment and equal displeasure.

"Zuri, how can you just sit there?" my mother, Hanna King asks, her midnight black eyes flashing with disgust. "Haven't you seen the news?"

"I just saw it, Mum," I reply gruffly, crossing my legs. "I'm still processing."

"Processing?" My father's face falls, his small wrinkles deepening as he frowns. He settles into the cushion opposite me.

"Zuri, you don't understand the gravity of this." he says, his voice stern as usual. "When you married Lorenzo, he was a nobody. But now, he's the first born son of one of the world's most influential families. Pure royalty! They've shaped the world as we know it, holding unparalleled ancient wealth and knowledge."

"What do you two want from me?" I rise to my feet, scoffing in utter disbelief. "Twenty minutes ago, I was still convinced my ex-husband was dead and gone forever. Now, you're telling me he's alive, from a powerful ruling family, and you expect me to... what? Grovel?"

My mother's face contorts in offense. She strides towards me, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. Ambition burns in her midnight eyes as she clutches my shoulder.

"We want you to reclaim your rightful place," she says, her voice low and demanding. "Surpass the Van Der Meers by securing a marriage into the Rassias family. Think of the power, the influence, the legacy, Zuri."