LATIFA, HIS EX-WIFE'S GHOST

Episode 11 (RED HAIRS)

Chapter 11

LATIFA POV

My heels marched out of my Lamborghini, the sound clattering loudly on the marble floors. The soft air soothes my white skin. Tugged along the hem of my dress, but I didn't flinch. Not tonight. Tonight, I was untouchable.

Back.

Finally… back.

The moment the doors had opened at that party, and the whispers exploded around me.

"Is that Joyce?"

Something inside me had breathed again. For so long, I wasn't hidden behind drugs or trauma or darkness.

I was Latifa Del Luna.

And I had just burned their lies; gracefully, in heels, with a smile.

I pushed open the penthouse doors. Silence. Scent of orchids. I walked in like I owned the world, because tonight, I almost did.

I dropped the diamond clutch on the table. Unpinned my earrings. Unzipped the dress. And looked at myself in the mirror.

Red lips. Frosty eyes. Steel posture.

But underneath all that… I could still feel how Zack looked at me.

He knew. Or at least, some part of him did.

He looked at me like he was reaching for a ghost he couldn't remember. Like he saw Joyce, buried under silk and secrets.

I smiled.

He was right.

I was back.

And this time, I wasn't here to beg for love.

I was here to take back everything.

I didn't turn on the lights as I walked into the penthouse.

The moonlight pouring in through the tall windows was enough. It was caught by the shimmer of my gown, the glitter still clinging to my skin, and the wild elation still bubbling up through my chest.

I had done it.

They didn't see Joyce. They saw Latifa Del Luna.

Distant. Mysterious. Terrifying. Tasty for blood.

I released my stilotue from my tired feet. Falling into the arms of the coach calling for me. My hand reached out for the remote, switching on the security feed. All the camera angles. All the reactions. I watched it again. Lady Joan choking on her champagne, the Prime Minister's doll flaunting that ridiculous ring, and Zack… immobilized.

He knew.

"Your entrance was brutal," came a voice from behind me.

I turned.

Miriam stepped in, wrapping a shawl over her shoulders. Her eyes searched for me, proud and amused.

"I counted at least five people who nearly fainted," she said, falling onto the other couch.

"Only five?" I scoffed.

She laughed, but only briefly. "You saw him."

My smile dimmed.

"Yes," I said.

"And?"

"He hasn't healed. Not even a little bit. He looked at me like…." I paused, my voice dropping, "...like I never died."

Miriam's eyebrow jumped. "That can be dangerous."

I leaned back, folding my arms. "I want it to be."

There was a silence between us, heavy with what we both knew. The past wasn't dead. It lived with every pulse of that party.

"He'll look into it," she said quietly.

"Let him," I softly said. "I did not rise from the ashes to hide myself."

Miriam poured the wine.

A good vintage wine, red, almost black in the subdued light. The kind we saved for moments that tasted of victory.

We raised our glasses, their ring echoing through the quiet room like a vow.

"To resurrection," I said.

"To vengeance," Miriam answered.

The doorbell rang.

We exchanged a glance.

Miriam moved first, her actions cautious but unhurried. She returned seconds later with a man in a charcoal suit and a sly smile. His gaze swept over me with something like acknowledgment…. though he said nothing.

"Elian," I greeted.

"Elian Saro, at your service," he said with a small bow, then drew out a small, engraved box. "I thought tonight called for more than wine."

Miriam's eyebrow went up. "You always bring something exotic."

Elian Saro. Miriam's most trusted business associate and partner in crime.

He opened the box. Two hand-rolled cigars and a folded sheet of paper.

"For the woman who brought the dead back to life," he said, eyes glinting. "Your entrance was… poetic."

I laughed, accepting the cigar but not lighting it. "You watched?"

He smiled. "We all did. I was at the party, enjoying your show"

He sat back in the chair opposite me, poured himself a glass. "The Empire felt a change tonight. They believed they interred a lamb. But a lioness entered."

The flames of the wine mixed with adrenaline, and the laughter, mine, Miriam's, even Elian's, rose into the night like an anthem.

Tonight, we revelled.

Tomorrow, war will begin.

A hum sliced through the laughter.

We stilled.

Miriam moved first, going to the security panel. Her fingertips grazed the controls, and the screen sprang to life with a fuzzy picture of the front gate.

There he was.

Zack.

Hanging in the shadows like a man torn between valor and regret. Pacing back and forth as if doubting or not to ring the bell. His eyes fixed on the door as if it would vanish if he blinked

"Elian," Miriam said softly, "mute the music."

He did.

I stepped closer, glass still in hand, heart tightening in my chest. He didn't ring the bell. Hadn't tried. He just stood there; haunted, uncertain.

I could see even through the screen.

"He came", Miriam murmured

"I knew he would", I said, swirling my wine glass.

The man who cheated on me… was now chasing my ghost.

"He looks lost," Elian murmured.

"No," I said softly. "He's starting to see."

Miriam glanced at me. "Do you want to speak to him?"

I tilted my head.

Then, slowly, I smiled.

"Not yet."

I turned away from the screen, the music resumed in the background.

Let him wait. Let him wonder. Let the truth crawl beneath his skin until he couldn't breathe without it.

For the dead don't come back without a storm.

And

I was the storm

The music resumed, louder this time; masking the noise of his arrival at the gate.

I turned away from the monitor.

"He can wait," I said.

Miriam lifted her glass again and clinked it against mine. "To a perfect entrance."

Elian poured another round, grinning. "To fear, confusion, and power."

I sipped slowly, the tension melting beneath the warm buzz in my veins.

Then Miriam bent in close, her voice low and sly. "So… Engr. Dona. Did he bite?"

A smile teased my lips.

"He bit" I told her. "Hook. Line. Sinker."

She laughed; sharp and knowing. "Poor thing didn't know he was with his worst nightmare."

I tilted my head. "Not a ghost, Miriam. A storm."

And the storm was only just beginning.

The moon smiles into the grand hall, through the high exotic windows. The ethereal glow was soothing. The polished floors shimmering, giving a soft, metallic radiance.

The house was quiet now. The laughter had stopped, the music muted long before. But the distant ticking of the hallway clock remained…. steady, like a heartbeat I hadn't trusted in years.

I slunked down the hallway, my silk nightgown rubbbing against me like a memory. My fingers encircled the door handle. I gently opened the door.

His room engulfed me with peaceful fragrance.

There he was.

My son.

His side curled up, his small fists under his cheek, the blanket rising and falling with every peaceful breath. The dark tangles of his hair flipped over his closed eyes, soft and unkempt. So peaceful. So unaware of the war that raged around him; of the secrets in his blood.

Shattered all over again.

I slipped in closer, my bare feet steady but calm on the plush carpet. I knelt beside the bed, vulnerable. My shaky fingers. Brushing his red hair back from his face. My throat tightened as I gazed at him; Zack's eyes. My chin. A face he didn't know he possessed.

Those red hair. The ones I longed to bare.

Zacks red hair.

And Zack… Zack was unaware he had a son.

He didn't know the cost I'd paid. The nights of bleeding in silence. The days of wishing to give up. The years of carrying the agony of being erased, betrayed, and forsaken; and still I fought. Fought to live. Fought to keep this little boy alive before me.

A tiny tear streaks down my cheek.

I stepped closer, leaping gently to the bed. My hand caressed his cheek.

Tears welled in my eyes.

Years. Of pain. Of hiding. Of living.

Recollections came surging in.

The hospital.

Doctors.

Telling me that the fetus was weak. That the trauma, too great. That releasing him would save my life.

But Miriam resisted. "We don't let go. We fight."

She had brought doctors in, pulled strings, even risked her own life just to keep us alive. Just to give me this moment.

He had grown up so fast, and yet… Zack never knew. His family never knew.

"Forgive your mother, son." I whispered, my voice trembling. "I had to protect you. That was all I could do.".

My boy stirred but didn't wake. My hand is not letting go of his chest. The feelings. Seeing my son, feeling the pulse of the life I'd struggled so hard to preserve.

"You are my glow," I whispered. "My reason. My strength."

I bent down, placing a kiss on his forehead.

One day, the truth would be known.

But not yet.

For now, I stayed in the shadows, holding the biggest secret of all.

My son.

My heart.

My revenge.

I sat beside him, brushing the curl from his forehead. My chest tightened.

My eyes burned.

"If I get you alive," Miriam had breathed in that recovery room darkness, "you get me mine back. We set her world ablaze. Together."

Lady Joan.

The mention alone caused her jaw to lock.

She'd stripped her off all of it ; her peaceful home, her name, her love.

"I'll make them pay," I whispered. "For you. For me. For Miriam. For everything we lost."

I leaned down, kissed his forehead, and stood.

My war had only just begun.

And this time, I wasn't alone.

Zack.

My mind wonders back to him.

I smoothed my son's blanket to his chin, sat on the floor, and let the tears fall freely. My arms wrapped around myself, but my eyes never left him.

We would have been a perfect family together. But, the world fought against us.

The world thought they'd killed me. But tonight reminded me; Latifa Del Luna didn't just survive.

She returned.

And she had a son worth burning the world for.