CHAPTER 2: Her Anger

"Are you sure she's all right?" asked a man to Marshal, who sat slumped in the work chair, his head bowed low.

"She should be, John. But I... I can't keep doing this. Selena ought to be able to move past the trauma and forgive me," Marshal replied, his voice thick with guilt.

"Getting over trauma isn't as easy as flipping a switch, Marshal Pembroke. It's going to take time. She's under immense pressure—what she went through is nothing short of harrowing. She was pregnant out of wedlock, shunned by those around her, despite doing nothing wrong," Johnny added solemnly. "I heard her own father threw her out."

Marshal exhaled a deep, weary sigh. "If only I had a time machine. I'd undo everything that happened that night."

"Stop daydreaming. What's done is done, Marshal," Johnny cut in, thrusting a sandwich towards him. "Your job now is to make something decent out of the mess. Turn that ruined porridge into something that won't rot overnight."

Another of Marshal's friends chimed in, "I'm truly sorry for what you've both been through. But instead of cursing the stars for that night, we need to work together to fix this. The kidnapping and the illegal insemination—those are crimes, Marshal. It's a gross violation of both your rights and Selena's."

"It's easy for you to say, Yohannes," Marshal muttered, massaging his temples. "But look at me now. No one believes a word I say. Not even my own parents. They still think I laid a finger on her."

"Well, parents are like that," Johnny scoffed. "Maybe deep down they know you didn't touch her, but they probably believe you were the one who orchestrated the whole thing—the abduction, the insemination... all of it."

"I'm not mad enough to hurt someone like that—especially not someone I don't even love," Marshal murmured bitterly.

"You don't love Selena at all?" Yohannes turned to him, eyes narrowed.

Marshal hesitated. "I don't know. I don't love her, but I feel... responsible—for the baby, for the weight of the pain she's carrying." He dragged his hands down his face, as though hoping to scrape the anguish from his skin.

He was searching—for answers in the dark, for a trace of clarity in the chaos. He was looking for a single drop of grace, a speck of dew that might fall upon the desert he'd become.

But once again, he found nothing.

And he knew then—he wouldn't find it alone.

"Marshal, you need a break too. Eat the sandwich—I know you haven't had breakfast, have you?" Johnny glanced at the sandwich sitting on the table in front of Marshal.

"Thanks, John. Once I get paid, I'll pay back all the money I borrowed from you," Marshal whispered.

Being expelled from university the day after the incident spread around campus wasn't the only blow Marshal had to endure. His parents had cut off all financial support, and even his last bit of savings had gone towards renting a tiny flat on Esk Street, London. A place that was worlds away from the luxury he once knew. That £1,000 flat didn't come close to his family's mansion in Holland Park.

His life had turned completely upside down. If it weren't for Johnny lending him money, he wouldn't even be able to take Selena to her psychologist appointments after each ultrasound.

"God… sometimes I feel so sorry for Selena. You know, I heard her family's not well-off. Her sister's been working part-time since middle school. I can't imagine how hard things must've been for her," Yohanes said quietly.

"How do you know that?" Johnny asked, eyeing Yohanes, who was still buried in paperwork.

"What, you didn't know? Her sister used to be in my cooking class," Yohanes looked up.

"Alright, that's enough. Can we stop going on about it? I know this whole thing is probably harder on her. I feel awful for her too," Marshal muttered, clearly frustrated.

"But you don't love Selena, do you? So where exactly is this relationship going, Marshal?" Yohanes asked, his tone a little sharper than before.

"Hey, instead of arguing like this, why don't we focus on the matter at hand? Yohanes, you suggested earlier that we report this to the police, didn't you? That's not going to work—we don't have enough evidence to back us up. But don't worry, mate. I'll handle it. I'll hire a private detective for you," Johnny added, already reaching for his phone as though to make the call.

"John, stop," Marshal said hastily, setting down his half-eaten sandwich and grabbing Johnny's arm to halt him. "I don't know how I'll ever repay your kindness." His voice was tight, a mixture of gratitude and frustration.

"I'm helping you because I owe you a debt that I could never repay, Marshal," Johnny replied with a sigh, his tone quieter now, laced with sincerity.

Marshal shook his head, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

"But I can't—don't you see? I don't know how I'm supposed to repay you for this, John. I'm not even a Pembroke anymore. They've cast me out. The only reason I'm even allowed to stay is as a low-level employee with a pittance of a wage." His voice cracked slightly at the end, his emotions spilling over.

Johnny opened his mouth to respond, but Yohanes stepped forward, his presence commanding just enough authority to calm the rising tension in the room. "Marshal, take a breath. Don't lose yourself. We're not going to stand by and let this injustice continue. We're with you, every step of the way."

Before anyone could say more, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. A group of security guards burst into the room, their faces pale and their breathing laboured as though they'd run the entire length of the estate. Their panicked expressions immediately drew everyone's attention.

"What's going on?" Johnny demanded sharply, his voice cutting through the air as he turned to face them.

One of the guards, still catching his breath, managed to blurt out, "Sir! There's a crazy woman causing chaos in the lobby. She's demanding to see Mr Pembroke."

"Who is it?" Marshal asked, stepping forward, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I'm not entirely sure, sir," the guard admitted, still struggling to compose himself. "But she's gone mad—she's smashing things. A few of Miss Pembroke's favourite vases have already been destroyed."

"Sounds like it could be Selena," Yohanes said quietly, stepping up beside Marshal. "You'd better go and see her."

Marshal's chest tightened at the mention of her name. Without hesitation, he nodded and strode past the guards, determination etched into his features. Whatever chaos awaited him in the lobby, he had a sinking feeling that Selena was at the heart of it—and he knew he couldn't ignore her, no matter how difficult the confrontation might be.

"Sel—stop!" Marshal shouted as he stormed into the main lobby, his voice echoing through the chaos that had unfolded there. The scene was a disaster—shattered vases and overturned furniture bore witness to the sheer ferocity of the woman's rampage.

But as Marshal's eyes locked onto her, he froze. It wasn't Selena. It was Yvonne Ravenshire—his fiancée.

"Yvonne?" Marshal's voice was a mixture of shock and confusion. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Me?!" Yvonne snapped, whirling around to face him, her chest heaving with anger. "I'm here to see you, Marshal! What else would I be doing? How dare you ignore my messages, my calls! What's wrong with you?"

"I don't have a phone anymore, Yvonne!" Marshal shot back, his voice sharp but controlled. "And in case you've forgotten, I already told you—our engagement is off. It's over. I'm no longer part of the Pembroke family. You don't need to chase after me."

Yvonne let out a bitter laugh, her perfectly manicured finger pointed accusingly at him. "What rubbish are you spouting, hmm? You've chosen to throw away everything? You'd rather live in poverty with that woman?" The venom in her voice was unmistakable.

Marshal's jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "Selena is pregnant with my child, Yvonne," he said, his tone firm but calm.

Yvonne's expression twisted into something almost feral. "You have money, Marshal," she hissed, taking a step closer to him, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. "You can make it all go away. You could have it taken care of in a single night. Why ruin your life over this?"

Marshal's stomach churned at her words. He stared at her, his disbelief evident in the way his brows furrowed and his lips tightened. "I can't believe you. Do you even hear yourself? Selena is carrying my child. My child, Yvonne. This isn't something you can sweep under the rug or make disappear with money. This is my responsibility."

Yvonne's face contorted with rage, and for a moment, Marshal almost thought she might lash out again. But instead, she took a shaky breath, her eyes narrowing as she levelled him with a cold, calculated glare.

"You're a fool, Marshal Pembroke," she spat, her voice dripping with disdain. "Throwing away everything we had, everything you could have had, for the sake of her. You'll regret this. Mark my words."