Adamma donned on the emerald-green gown she had been slated to wear for the party she was going to attend that evening. It was being hosted in the honor of the outgoing German ambassador to Nigeria, and she was one of the lucky invitees to the party_ Dan had told her that the man was enamored of her music, and so she'd had no way to beg off the party without appearing rude to him. She knew that her rakish husband would attend; they were even supposed to go together, but he'd called her at the last minute, telling her to go on ahead, that he was being delayed at the office. She darkly wondered if the delay was being caused by one of those women who were so in love with him. I must be getting old, she thought wryly.
When the chauffeur-driven car arrived at Almanac's, she alighted from the car and then, without the need to proffer her invitation card to the security men who manned the gate, she was led right inside, past some of the guests who had to suffer the indignity of waiting in a long queue for their names to be sorted out. She headed straight for the ambassador after she had invariably halted in her strides and exchanged pleasantries with their hostess, a crossover classical opera singer.
The man was extremely pleased to see her and he personally expressed his gratitude that she had agreed to come. And then she found herself being drawn into conversations with some of the nearest guests with whom she was acquainted with, and even though the room was packed with well-scented bodies who buzzed with aimless conversation, she managed to plaster a look of interest on her face. As she listened to their host rattle on about the snake delicacies he'd sampled on his visit to the North, she found herself searching around the room for her traitorous husband whom she knew invariably would attend; she had to be with him so that she'd give the other people around the impression that she was a happily married woman. Her quest to win her husband over to her side and make him see her differently had already begun.
And surely, he attended. From his vantage point on the dark, unlighted terrace, Obi was watching the men and the women in the room, talking their hearts out. He hated the fact that he was being forced to put in attendance at such an affair and had tried to beg off, but his mother would never hear of such cowardice or rudeness on his part, so he'd donned on the green tuxedo he'd ordered earlier that day and had driven out to come and pay his respects to the ambassador. The dizzy spell that had been caused by the arrival of his wife had not yet worn off and he was still reeling inwardly from its effects. Her arrival in that gown had made the entire party hold their breath, and he was forced to grudgingly admit to himself that she was true physical perfection.
Obi approached her as she was deep in conversation with an American woman whose raven black hair, bright blue eyes and alabaster skin contrasted with her all-white ensemble, making her look almost angelic and divine in the sea of green that was all around them.
As the woman bestowed a charming smile on him and excused herself, sauntering off in the quest of other characters, Obi smiled at his wife who looked outrageously calm as she stared at him with those luminous eyes that always had the capacity to burn holes right through him.
'So, you've decided to entangle as much men as you can into your web of seduction,' he remarked, watching with satisfaction as her shoulders sagged. 'Surely, you do know how to make use of your gifts of feminine allure.' But before she could make a reply, he hurried on, raising one hand to forestall her from saying anything. He said soothingly, 'My dear girl, please let's not fight or quarrel here. Let us call a truce, at least for now, giving the assemblage the impression that we're hopelessly in love with each other.'
That we're hopelessly in love with each other . . .
Those words, uttered with such flippancy, burned through Adamma and stung her senses like a legion of vengeful scorpions. Her emotions were sent into a tunnel of sharp pain which she hadn't anticipated in any way. She asked herself: why would Obi single himself out to be the source of her doom? Why would he choose to single-handedly extinguish the light in her eyes with just one devastating sentence?
She knew that this man did not love her; the reprehensible creature was seemingly incapable of showing such a selfless emotion, but couldn't he try, however slowly, to lessen the burden he'd inflicted upon her by chaining her down to a loveless union that would horrify even the most insane of women. It was now as clear as crystals that she was merely a name in his list of women, singled out specifically for making him look respectable in the eyes of the society. And was this the man she had been harboring such hopes for? Was this the man she was planning to bend so he could love her? And he was a womanizer_ at least that was what she felt in her heart. And there was nothing on earth to make her believe that he was not getting it from those leggy women that thronged through the hallowed halls of his establishments.
'Obi!'
That husky, well-modulated voice which was meant for the bedroom jolted the singer back to the reality of her surroundings and she turned, fastening her eyes at the intruder who was making her way over to them with a sway of curvy hips. Adamma stared at a head of acrylic hair that shone with its faux gloss; she stared at the beautiful face which appeared a bit older than her own, and sensuous lips that curved in a sexy smile. The woman cast the barest of icy smiles in her direction before she turned her attention to Obi. She seemed to have come to animated life at the sight of the magnate.
'Darling!' the woman gushed, and then she swept herself into his arms to be given a warm kiss that nearly sent Adamma over the edge and had her eyes deadening with anger. But, to the shock and the secret surprise of the singer, her husband held the wench off with a hand while he gave her what his wife had already termed his businessman smile.
'I've been looking everywhere for you, and then here you are. I just returned from Holland with some goodies I know you'll love, and as you know, this party is just boring. So why don't we make arrangements to excuse ourselves and get the hell out of here? It's been so long! Look at you_ how dashing you look! So, if this woman will excuse us?' The woman's brown contact lenses flashed at the singer with a hint of anger and cold triumph.
'Oh, but of course,' he replied, choosing that golden moment to get back at his wife for the way she teased him with her body. She had really punished him, pushing him over the edge, and then leaving him to be thoroughly frustrated and horny with desire for her. He had promised to get back at her, to punish her for what she'd been doing to him with her body, and now seemed like the best time to fulfill that promise, and so he curled one arm around the woman's waist and smiled adoringly into her face. He knew that his mother would be so proud of him because of the fact that he was a magnificent actor. He would dump the bitch who had dared to act so oblivious to his wife as if she was nobody and then get back with his wife.
Stupid Della, the one who knew as much as the next woman that he was now married to the singer but had chosen to ignore that fact now.
'But Obi_' Adamma began, stunned at the deliberate rudeness of her husband. Tears glistened in her eyes.
'As it happens,' Obi snapped, faux repressive coldness in every line, 'Della and I have a lot to catch up on because we've missed out a lot on each other's lives.' There, he had done it. He knew that what he had done was reprehensible, but he just couldn't resist the jab. And the look on her face: priceless.
Obi led the woman away, while Adamma stood there, her fists balled with fury, her eyes glaring after their departing bodies. She was furious with Obi for daring to throw such an insult at her, and she knew he was doing it for revenge at her for some imaginary sins she'd committed. And there, witnessing all that had transpired was Lady Smith, a gossip columnist for Who's On Board magazine. Adamma wished the ground would crack open and swallow her up. To her, Obi was such a wicked, cruel, and remorseless sadist, choosing such a public place to shame her and pour ridicule upon her. The utter sense of desolation she felt knew no bounds.
Holding her head high so as to give the impression of unconcern, Adamma turned around to walk away, and then she stopped short. Obi was standing at the far end of the room, leaning against a wall, and the woman_ Della_ had her hand in his pocket, and they were talking in hushed tones. Adamma could see Obi close his eyes and tilt his head back: she knew that look; it was his look of rapturous pleasure, one he often adopted whenever she was licking at his body with her tongue and he was enjoying it so much. Now, she needed no binoculars to look closely so she would know that the woman had her hand fondling his cock.
She nearly snapped, and black rage seized her mind. Whirling round so she wouldn't go over to them and crack the woman's skull open, Adamma collided with Dan, the very last man she'd expected to see there, but before he could register his shock at her murderous expression, she grabbed his wrist in a viselike grip and hissed in a low voice, 'Take me away from here before I commit murder! The bastard has done it again! The filthy, bloody devil! I hate him, Dan! I hate him!'
Without giving her astonished listener the time to recover from his shock, she turned and marched him out of the room, and she was aware of the compassionate eyes of the hostess glued to her back; obviously, the poor woman had seen what had transpired. They walked to Dan's white Acura, and when the silent man with her unlocked the car doors, she got into the front seat and trembled with rage, and from her lips came the sounds of unspeakable anguish.
Dan slid in beside her, and in the faint lights that wafted in from the house, she could see that he looked worried. 'I'm sorry,' he said.
'Just drive!' Adamma hissed, and then, as the car slid out of the premises, she burst into tears. 'Just take me away from here; do not take me home because I have no home. Take me to your apartment.'
Dan looked sideways at her. 'I know your husband has not been the best of spouses to you, and I'm very sorry about it. But please do not tell me that you hate him, because you don't. You've always looked so happy to me, and you've got that glow in your eyes; and now, you're possessive of him and jealous of the fact that another woman is jerking him off in public_ I saw what you were fleeing from, and I could have killed that bastard. But what good would it have done? It'd have spoiled the party, and then your name would be dragged into the pages of the newspapers. And I know you don't want that because you're in love with him.'
Adamma threw him a scathing glare, and then she burst out into bitter laughter. 'You idiot,' she snapped. 'I would rather be dead and buried than be in love with that bastard.' And then she looked at the loyal man who was seated beside her, and she felt a pang of regret and sorrow that she had not gotten herself attached to him. It was plainly obvious that he was in love with her; he had been from the very moment he'd set his eyes on her, and yet he'd never moved to take advantage of her. He was so different from the arrogant devil she'd married, and she knew he was hurt that he hadn't gotten her to himself. But he'd unreasonably delayed, and he hadn't even touched her beyond the occasional kiss and the heat that was always mirrored in his eyes whenever he looked at her.
'Pull over,' she ordered, and he did so, turning off the ignition and then twisting round in his seat to look at her. She continued, fuelled on by a sense of anger and rebellion. 'I know you've always loved me_'
'And I always will,' he replied.
'Well, I also know you've fantasized about me a lot_ I can see that look in your eyes.'
Dan squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, obviously at a loss for an appropriate response to the succinct observation. 'Well, a man has got to indulge his fantasies once in a while.'
Her chest heaving at the direction her traitorous thoughts had veered into, her cheeks became suffused with warmth, and she was swimming in an ocean of ecstasy, like a man who'd had too much beer to drink. All her senses were tuned in to the music she was playing to herself; it was the music of rebellion against the man who had sworn to ill-treat her. And she'd decided to play the same game he was playing; the idea of infidelity was growing in her mind, warming her, preparing her for her next line of action.
She leaned forward, breathing heavily, her fingers working into the chest of this man who had done so much for her, and yet she'd failed to pay him back properly, as a woman should. She brought her lips forward, engulfing him in a cloud of her perfume, and before he could protest at the inappropriate and scandalous nature of their position, her lips touched his. She felt him gasp, and then he seemed to relax, his rigid posture on the seat relaxing. He was reaching forward to her, his fingers touching her neck, brushing against the top curves of her breasts, and she was moving forward, their bodies joining with a primal need that blocked out all thoughts.
Suddenly, he broke away and stared at her, disbelief written on his face.
'Are you for real?' he demanded.
'Dan, make love to me,' she whispered in that low, sultry voice that had made many men in the past flip with desire and forget whatever inhibitions they had and taking her; it was the voice that chained her husband down to her bed and had him fulfilling whatever favors she'd demanded. 'Show me how much you love me.'
And her fingers were brushing against his chest, moving down to his crotch where she felt a hardness that strained against the fabric of his trousers.
Dan shook his head as if to clear it, and then he groaned loudly and buried his face in his palms. 'My darling,' he said, raising his head to look at her. You're not in your right senses. Do you know what you're trying to do? Are you trying to fuck me just so you can be even with your husband?'
Lost in the sheer seduction of what she was doing, she pouted indifferently, 'So what? Look here, Dan, my husband drove me into this and so why not have a little fun while I have the chance? And I am not changing my mind because of your qualms and your sense of morality. If you're not interested in me, then fine; there are more than a million men who would die just so they can have me. So, my darling, you can either accept me or you can refuse; that won't stop me from going on to the next place I can find and getting myself a cheap fuck.' She reached for him once again but he shoved her hands away.
'You're definitely mad!' he snapped. 'You've become insane, and not only that; you've also turned stupid. Now let me advice you, dear. For the sake of your dead parents and your sister, and everything you hold sacred in this world, do not jump into something you'll definitely regret. What would people think of you? They'll be disgusted at you.'
Her eyes misted once again, and she started to cry because of the condemnation that had been washed over her. Her sobs racked her body, and she realized that Dan was right; what would people think of her? What would her family think of her wherever they were? And it was at that moment that it dawned on her that she lacked the coldness and the detachment to carry on with her plan of infidelity against her husband in spite of the fact that he was a cruel beast; she'd just have stripped Dan naked, and then she'd come to her senses and he'd be extremely angry with her for being such a tease; a cock-teaser. How could she possibly break her marriage vows to Obi? She couldn't.
But then, it came to her that her husband would never try to make such a fool of himself in the eyes of the public. Perhaps, there was another explanation for the fact that the woman had her hand in his pocket while he had that pretentious smile on his lips. She knew him well enough at least to know that he was not the type of man that would make a public fool of her in the glare of the public. Now, she felt really ashamed of what she had tried to do.
'I'm sorry,' she said through her tears, her body shaking with tears. 'It's just that Obi has dealt me such a cruel blow_ the natural instinct is for me to fight back at him. And now I can't even . . .' She burst out into a huge sound that was part silly tears and part laughter.
Dan's features softened; he heaved a deep sigh and then gathered the sobbing-laughing woman into his arms. 'That's it, my dear,' he said, stroking her back gently as if she was a kid, soothing her. He pressed a kiss to her fragrant hair. 'If only you'd listened to Amanda when she advised you, then you won't be having these problems. I had wanted to interfere then but I didn't because I had the feeling you knew what you were doing. Besides that, he's the father of your kids and it was only fair for the children to stay with their biological father. But now, I wish I had been faster.'
Adamma drew away from him, strangely reassured by his words. She pulled out a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. She was horrified that her makeup was ruined, and then she burst out laughing at the twisted sense of irony she felt. 'My husband has ruined me,' she said on a lighter note. 'He's punishing me for keeping his children away from him.'
Dan started the car. 'You need to rest, my dear,' he said, easing the car back into the Mainland traffic. He put on the stereo, and the duet between the Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli, and Sarah Brightman, Time to Say Goodbye, filled the car's interior. And then, he was driving her home silently, and they were both lost in their own thoughts.
When they arrived at Obiekwe residence, with the opulent grounds lighted up like some Christmas tree in a fairy tale, Dan declined to follow her into the house. He walked her to the front brass doors which were lighted up with white light that spilled out into the garden and the long, curved driveway which was lined with a wonderful array of trees, and then he talked to her for a few minutes.
When he turned to go, Adamma was filled with a deep sense of loss, and, on an impulse, she hugged him and kissed him on the lips, and he pulled away, slightly embarrassed. But she was not annoyed; he was shy in an appealing way, and she was now almost sorry that she hadn't taken to him to bed all the time they'd been together. If she had, she knew she would have entangled him firmly around her little finger, and he would have married her, and then Obi would not have dared to walk into her life. Then that would have taught the bastard a lesson.
She then turned and walked into the house after she'd watched him put the car in reverse and drive away from the opulent grounds. She walked past the foyer, kicking off her sandals as she did so, and then, wearily, she made her way towards the huge, downstairs living room which was decorated more like a palace than a private sanctuary. She now felt she hated this house and everything in it; there were servants everywhere to attend to every need, though she often refused to let them wait on her because she remembered her own humble beginnings and the suffering that went with it; she insisted on preparing the meals herself, though the cook was filled with horror, insisting that she was the mistress of the house and so had to do nothing but be waited upon. But since she was the mistress of the house, there was nothing the kind cook could do other than to pander to her wishes.
They'd struck on a compromise. 'Fine,' Adamma had told the woman. 'We'll do the cooking together, but I will be the person to prepare my husband's meals.' And they had stuck to that routine and a firm friendship had developed between the two women. She helped out in the house chores in the early hours of the mornings before she dived into her gym for her fitness routines; she treated everybody like an equal, her fame and fortune notwithstanding, and the servants loved her for it. But now, she had become weary of it all; she was tired of being trapped in this opulent prison and being ignored by the only man who should have made her a happy woman.
It was like being trapped in a golden cage. Beautiful and stunning, yes, but she was still a prisoner in it because there seemed to be no escape from it.
She walked into the living room, her eyes wearily taking in the ridiculously expensive furniture and oil paintings whose price would feed a hundred hungry children comfortably for three years. Her mother-in-law, Hope, was reclining on a sofa, perusing through a voluminous John Irving work. She seemed unaware of the presence of the younger woman, so Adamma leaned against the doorframe and watched her, a pang of longing whispering through her.
Hope was more than a mother-in-law to her, and through the several months they had been together in the same house, they had become firm friends, and she had gotten to rely on the woman as a trusted companion and confidant, a mother she'd never really had. They had gone for numerous shopping trips together and had giggled like young teenagers as they made their selections; Hope had been there to take very good care of her grandchildren when Adamma had gone on a three-week continent-wide tour, thrilling thousands of fans who were there to watch her perform her act, and when she had returned to Lagos, performing at the Lagos stadium to an audience twenty thousand strong, Hope had been there with the kids, cheering her on as she'd performed a belle dancing gig with two talented teenagers who had gone on the tour with her, the three of them dressed in long skirts and shimmering bras; the Lagos township stadium had been the last lap of her tour. Afterwards, all of them had gone for a nice picnic at the Lekki beach where Hope insisted she wear a revealing bikini, and she'd been the sensation of the beach in the bikini; Hope took a motherly pride in her daughter-in-law.
Later that evening, as they were having dinner, Hope had said to Obi, 'You've landed quite a catch. Your wife was marvelous; please don't let her slip through your fingers.'
And he had merely grunted a response, and that night he had made love to her with a wild passion that made it so obvious that he was hungry for her. He'd fucked her all night long, and, the following day, he'd taken her out and had plied her with gifts. But she was not deceived; his gifts to her were the gifts of a master to his slave_ and in this case, his sex slave.
As if she'd sensed her presence, Hope looked up from her book, and a frosty look came into her eyes. She gave Adamma a cold, assessing glance. 'Hello, my dear,' she said in a surprisingly cold voice which nearly made Adamma to reel back as if she'd been hit physically. 'I was waiting up for you and my son to return, and now, you're here. I want us to talk.'
Adamma nodded, but she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that whatever Hope wanted to talk about would be unfavorable to her. She braced herself and then sank tiredly into a chair. 'I'm listening, Hope.'
'Let me start with a question: who was that man that was hugging you and looking as if he wanted to eat you outside?' But before her daughter-in-law could reply, she raised one slim hand and stopped her. 'Let me answer that. I know he's been your manager for a decade, but who is he, really? What's he to you? Is he just what everyone think he is? Is he your lover?'
Adamma was flabbergasted. 'What is this?' she asked, annoyance taking over her mind. 'Are trying you trying to accuse me? Are you trying to start a quarrel?'
'Wait; I have not finished.' Hope's voice sounded like a whiplash. 'You weren't supposed to have come returned home by this time, and I have no doubt that my son is the reason why you fled from that party. News travels extremely fast in the circles I move around in; a friend had already called me and told me what had happened between you and Obi. He was smiling at another woman right before your eyes, yes?'
Adamma's chest heaved with apprehension at what was going to happen, and she had no doubt that Hope's 'friend' was Lady Smith. She said calmly, 'So you know what your son is doing to me. You know everything, Hope.'
'Yes,' the older woman blurted out, her head tilting up so she could get a better view of Adamma. Her face was a mask of annoyance and disapproval.
'Well, what do you think of it?' Adamma demanded.
Hope crossed one leg over the other and regarded her daughter-in-law coldly. 'You deserve it, you little bitch. As much as I find it distressing that my son is not faithful to his significant other, I'll say that you deserve it. You put on your mask of innocence, but you're a devil underneath all that shocking beauty of yours. You are just like a powerful seductress, and you ensnared my son at a whorehouse which had the cloak of being a club where you worked as a whore over a decade ago!'
Adamma gasped and then reeled backwards into her chair as if the other woman had struck her physically. The impact of the older woman's icy words was overwhelming, and the pain she felt was excruciating. No, this cannot be happening to me, she thought in anguish, tears blurring her vision. No. Please no.
Hope's eyes shone with cold triumph. 'You thought I would never find out?' she fired on, her voice hard, her expression deadpan. 'I hate you, Adamma. You've done quite a lot, and I hate you for it. Nothing happens that I do not find out, and so if I hadn't decided to have your past investigated, then I would still be here, feeling sorry for a wretched whore who preys on the fantasies of men. How could you not have told me? How could you have hidden that fact from me even though you knew I would have understood?'
Adamma was now crying in anguish. She put her head in her arms and wept because she was afraid she'd lost a friend, and she pulled herself together and looked up. 'I can explain,' she said quietly, though she sounded heart-broken. 'I had no choice then; it was forced on me. I had never wanted to do anything so depraved, but I'd had no choice. You have to believe me!'
The anger, contempt, and hatred in Hope's eyes were unmistakable. 'It was forced on you by whom? You sit there, bedeviled by jealousy and burning with spite against my son for his infidelity, but you were and still are, a whore, a hooker! And even now, right before you came in here, you were hugging and fondling a man right in front of my house, the both of you looking ready to jump into bed and do something to each other. You are worse than a despicable animal; you are a beast and a filthy scumbag.'
Horror coursed through Adamma at Hope's fiery condemnation of her. 'Hope!' she cried in a choked voice. 'You must listen to me! I had no choice! It was either I got my ass into the streets or die, so I had to choose between the two evils. I could not just drop dead for the sake of morality.'
'But you could have at least had some dignity about the matter,' Hope pouted, a smile appearing on her lips. 'You, know, you're such a talented actress; your acting skills are flawless. Now, please stop playing the innocent, wounded wife and leave Obi to enjoy his life. He is a man; he's got normal sex urges, so he's free to go and seek his pleasures anywhere.'
For a moment, shock held Adamma still, and then she slid to the floor in a near state of collapse. 'How can you say such a thing?' she cried in disbelief. 'You're his mother; you're supposed to be angry with him for his actions.'
A thin smile appeared on the woman's lips and then disappeared. 'Of course I am his mother and should be suitably horrified at his behavior. But in this case, I won't be; I am solidly behind him to do whatever he wants. And you're not even smart_ can't you even ask me why I now hate you?'
Through her tears, Adamma remembered it was true, and so she asked, 'Why?'
Hope waved as if was inconsequential. 'There are many reasons. First: you were a whore, and yet you never trusted me enough to try and confide in me even though you knew I would understand. Secondly: you're as unfaithful as you accuse my son of being_ perhaps even more so_ yet you shower accusations and abuses on him, painting him as the villain in your marriage. And thirdly: you flirt with a lot of men_ your beauty, fame, and your chosen career has made it impossible for the men not to notice you_ but yet you're filled with jealousy whenever Obi looks at another woman. And the forth and classical reason . . .'
Here she broke off, and she fixed Adamma with a look of such intense anger and clear, unadulterated hatred that made the younger woman to feel utterly wretched and cast, bereft of her clothing, into an icy wilderness. Through her misery and the impending doom that hung over her like the storm clouds, her mind dwelt on possible reasons why this woman would show off display such a frightening display of contempt and hatred for her. And then, her mind wondered why the woman had decided to go and unearth the sordid details of her past life.
Hope's icy voice jerked her back to the present with the force of a physical slap to her face. 'There was this woman who destroyed my happiness several years ago, even before I met and married Obi's father. She was more beautiful than I was; she was more gifted and talented_ of course the children of Lucifer are often very stunning to behold, and she was younger than me. But she was a snake; a man had wanted to marry me, but she thrust herself in-between us and destroyed our union. She got him to herself, but I knew she'd never make him happy in any way; there was something bad about her, a bad aura that spelt doom. She got pregnant and then she gave birth to a baby; you. That man and that woman were your parents.'
All color drained away from Adamma's face as she clutched at her chest because of the utter shock Hope's declaration had caused. Breathing was now a task she performed with difficulty as she stared at Hope with rounded eyes of disbelief. Could the woman's words be mere lies or could they have the ring of truth? She believed the former because she couldn't believe her mother to be capable of doing such a despicable thing.
'You are a liar, Hope!' she spat out, though her throat felt as if it was clogged up with bones. Her tears were now gone for good as she got ready to defend the honor of the woman who had given birth to her. The suffering look of the abused wife was gone, to be replaced by anger.
'Oh, believe what you wish to believe,' Hope said pleasantly. 'However, it's the simple truth, and if you're interested, then I can show you a photo of them I've kept over the years.'
And she extracted a photo from within the pages of the book she'd been reading and leaned forward to give it to Adamma. As the latter studied the faces that were frozen permanently on that page, her face fell. It was of a young couple; and the man looked solid and strong, a man in the prime of his life, and the young woman standing beside him, her face wreathed in smiles, was stunningly beautiful, with a shock of black hair that was upswept and away from her face. They were unmistakably her dead parents, and tears slid down her cheeks anew as she stared at them.
'I couldn't believe it at first,' Hope continued flatly. 'There was something about you that drew my mind irresistibly to my past enemies; there was something about that woman that lay in your eyes; her face was like yours, and the body_ there was the same grace of movement, the same sensuality that would make a mountain goat lose its foothold. So, I decided to investigate and lay my mind to rest, and then I found out everything about you. You were a whore; a famous singer; the daughter of the worst enemy I've ever had; the mother of my grandchildren; my friend . . . what a formidable combination. And I would like for you to understand that I know more about your family history than you do, more than you'll ever know about who you are.'
'Hope . . .' and words failed Adamma with which to express the chaotic emotions that were whirling around in her. The heartbreak she felt was more excruciating than any pain she'd ever felt before in her entire life. Here it was right in front of her eyes; Hope had given her the proof of whom and what she was. It was all laid down before her eyes.
'Now, my dear,' Hope said in arch tones, smiling; but there was no truth and humor in that smile. 'Ruining you would be the perfect revenge I can exert on you for what your parents did to me many years ago. They broke my heart mercilessly, and to be sincere, the natural impulse is for me to exert my revenge; to pay them back. Unfortunately, that's no longer possible; meeting you, knowing you, and even loving you right back from all those bygone years when you'd appeared on the screens, has lessened, and even deadened my desire for revenge. But I can't stay with you anymore under the same roof, not after knowing what I now know about you. So, go to the master bedroom you share with my son, pack your bags, and then get out of here. Feel free to take your children with you_ I have the feeling that you'll need them now more than ever.'
Shocked, Adamma shook her head. 'But this is also my house; this is my home,' she protested. 'This is my husband's house.'
'And your husband does not care for you or want you anymore,' Hope amended stubbornly. 'And this is my house, not Obi's. Please do not try to fight me or argue about this; you'll regret it. I'd like to have a bowl of cereal right now, and I'd invite you to join me, but of course you'll want to pack your bags. So, I'll say goodbye to you, and good luck; you need it now_ we all do.' She stood and turned towards the direction of the kitchen.
Without another word, Adamma turned and also left the utter monstrosity of a living room behind her, heading for the bedroom she'd shared with Obi so she could pack her bags and leave the house behind. She threw the door open, stood irresolutely in the middle of the room as she considered whether to call Obi and tell him what his mother had done; she decided against it. Moving into the room, she began to throw open her trunks and the wardrobe; shoes were thrown to the floor in a haste; haute couture were thrown unceremoniously onto the floor. She then began to pack, and as she did so, she wept in despair, and from her mouth came the sounds of unspeakable despair and agony; she was on the fringe of breaking down finally.
At last, she'd become trapped, and there no visible route of escape. She found it utterly unbelievable that Hope would venture to go and investigate her past, seeking for ways to pull her down, and the fact that the woman had coerced her into agreeing to leave her matrimonial home was incomprehensible to her mind. And the woman had even used her past life against her, wielding it like a weapon.
And where did the woman expect her to go to?
She'd go to her house, the house she'd bought with her own finances and turned into a lovely home for herself and her kids. Fortunately, even after she'd moved into her matrimonial home after her wedding, she'd hired a housekeeper who cleaned the house twice a week. And the house had been a safe haven to her; it was a place she escaped to whenever she needed to think or work on new lyrics for her albums or tried to escape from the headaches she was suffering at the hands of Obi_ sometimes she even spent days in that house, locked indoors. And now, she was returning back to the same house she'd left over a year ago.
But the shame and scandal her removal from her matrimonial home would cause would serve as fodder for malignant gossip which could last for several months. Ah, at last, Obi had succeeded; if his intention had been to punish her silence about their kids even though she'd known how to contact him, then he'd succeeded; her ruin would serve his purpose perfectly because her dignity and sanity had fled from her. There would be headlines everywhere!
Sinking down to the floor as her emotions finally got the better of her; she gave in to a fresh flood of tears which racked her body with its intensity. Why had she agreed to Obi's marriage proposal, which had finally crumbled apart after just more than a year of their making their vows to each other? She had seen through him; she'd seen him for the monster he truly was, and yet she'd agreed to marry him so that her children would have a home and bask in the love of their father. And she'd tried to make the marriage work; it had been a sham from the very beginning, but she'd tried. She had worshipped his body whenever, however, and wherever he'd needed her; she'd cooked his meals and washed his clothes and ironed them herself with meticulous care even though there had been a plethora of servants to do so; she had really tried to make the marriage work out for them. And what had she gained in return for her sacrifices; her efforts? What ultimate price was she paying for his treatment of her?
He'd ruined her beyond redemption. He had scrubbed her public image in the dust and made her a laughingstock of her critics.
She stood up, shook her head to clear it, and then she continued to pack. Twenty minutes later, after she'd walked up and down the staircase to her car which she'd parked in front of the driveway, lugging heavy trunks to the car but not breaking a sweat because she was quite strong due to her physical torture of her body every morning, she threw in the last of her trunks into the car and headed for the kids' room to wake them up. It grieved her to think that they would be so disappointed at the prospect of being separated from their father at such a time in their lives. But she couldn't just leave them here, could she? And so they were coming with her.
Walking into the room, Adamma crossed over to the bed where Helen lay, sleeping peacefully with the innocence of a child. She gently shook the girl free from the bonds of sleep and smiled when Helen's eyelids fluttered open and the girl stared up at her mother.
Adamma's heart twisted with agony at the thought of what she was about to do to her beloved kids. 'Get up, honey,' she said gently in a strangled voice, her fingers reaching forward to stroke the girl's hair. 'We're leaving.'
'Leaving?' Helen echoed and her eyes wide with disbelief. She frowned, and her mother knew that the intelligent girl was trying to work out the facts in her mind. 'But where are we going? Why now?'
Adamma drew in a ragged breath and tried to smile, but she was sure it came out as a grimace. 'Your dad doesn't love me and your grandmother has asked me to pack my things and leave; you know I cannot leave here without you and your brother. So let's wake him up so we can leave, ok?'
All sleep seemed to ooze out of Helen's face and the girl sat up, now very alert. She looked thoughtful; she was trying to figure out why her father would act so monstrously; she was that intelligent. 'Mummy, are you sure of what you're saying?' she demanded. 'But daddy won't be so cruel to the extent of sending you_ us_ packing right now. It is so unfair to all of us. But, I'm not quite surprised that you've told me what you just told me; I always knew there was something bad about him because you've never been happy around him. He treats you so unfairly; I often noticed it.'
The girl threw back the bedcovers and flew to her feet just as her mother turned around towards the wardrobe. As Adamma began to throw the clothes inside it out on the recently discarded bed, Helen hastened towards the other side of the room to her brother's bed where he lay under the bedcovers, sleeping peacefully. As Helen impatiently shook her brother awake, Adamma had to ponder what feelings were bottled up inside that young body: perhaps rage, resentment, anger . . . Adamma didn't blame her; the girl had the right to feel that way.
Ian woke up, and as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he grumbled, 'Helen, why don't you just leave me alone? I want to sleep.'
She waved him to silence with a queenly authority she'd perfected over the years. 'We're leaving,' she retorted. 'Dad doesn't love us, and so we're leaving here right away. We thought he was the best thing that could have happened to us, but now, he's sending us away from here.'
'But he can't do that,' Ian protested, turning wide eyes of disbelief on his mother so she could counter the statement. 'He promised to take me out for shopping tomorrow and come and see my play after school.'
Helen laughed. 'And he also promised to take me to my dancing practice so he'd cheer me on to victory. But then pigs wear wigs, and he's always making promises to us. So please snap out of your confusion and move your ass out of that bed before I take a switch to your hide!'
Ian frowned at her angrily. 'You can't do that!' he exclaimed. 'And I love my daddy! This is all a mistake, and he'll make everything right again; you'll see.'
Helen laughed at him in scorn. 'So you love the man who is responsible for making our mother so sad? Can't you see that she's been crying? Oh, how stupid and utterly silly you are! You are so blind! Now, will you get out of that bed or do you want me to force you out of it?'
Adamma whirled round like a dervish and thundered at the sparring twins to shut up and obey her instructions, and they immediately obeyed her, their verbal exchange subsiding into glares that promised that the topic would be revisited by them once again. And then Adamma mellowed instantly at them_ it wasn't their fault that the world had gone upside down.
She felt cold fury well up within her at Obi, the man who had made her life miserable. It ignited her temper that he was the person who would come between her kids and make them fight about him; Helen condemned him with a fury that belied her age, while Ian tenaciously clung to the belief that his father could do no wrong to them and would never dismiss them from his life.
But he has dismissed them from his life, Adamma thought bitterly and disconsolately to herself, a wave of feral anger and jealousy coursing through her. Her fists clenching of their own accord, she straightened up as her mind dwelt on the unsavory images of Obi reclining back in a sofa somewhere while a gorgeous woman attended to his body and they laughed at her and taunted her memory; that woman was Della. Could the sadistic man be as cruel as that? Didn't he realize what a beautiful, intelligent woman he'd married? Was he blinded by his lust for the fairer sex and his rage against her that he couldn't sit down and think about what he had_ what other men would go to the ends of the earth to have?
She hated him; hated his guts and his daring for doing what he was doing to her!
As that thought dropped, unbidden, into her mind, she realized, with a sickening jolt, that she did not hate him in any way. She loved him; she had always loved him in spite of the fact that he was cruel to her and had sadistic tendencies which made him to punish her with such dedication, that she often thought if her life with him had any meaning at all.
She was in love with her husband, and this sudden realization of her true feelings for Obi nearly rocked her off her feet and she had to clutch at the table for support. It hit her with the crushing force of a sledge hammer. That explained why she'd always hung on to their marriage; that was why she let him take her whenever and wherever he wanted to take her. And that was what explained the feelings of jealousy she always felt; the anger that was lodged firmly in her chest; the bitterness; the pain and feelings of desolation . . . it was because he had not returned her love for him or appreciated her sacrifices . . . because he was indifferent to her and seemed oblivious to her charms as a woman except when they were out in the glare and censorious eyes of the public . . .
But now, even with that knowledge she now had of her for a man who treated her worse than he'd treat a criminal, she knew that she could not stay on here and expect Obi to treat her with any modicum of respect. Staying on here would be tantamount to subjecting herself to a new unbreakable bondage, and it was not something she expected to bear with meekness; it'd drive her crazy. She wouldn't want the man she loved to hold such sway over her and toy with her, subjecting her to the cruelty of his actions. How he would hurt her if he ever found out that she was in love with him.
No . . . never again. Hope's dismissal and condemnation was the last straw; she had to go, and there was nothing to keep her here again. Her mind was definitely made up.
She turned to her children, and she appeared strangely calm. She said, 'We have to go, my darlings. But do not worry; you have not seen the last of your father, and neither have I.'
The real battle was about to begin. She knew it; she was sure of it.