Veil of Vows

Thirty Days

The envelope slipped from Amina's trembling hands and landed softly on the polished floor.

For a long moment, she simply stared at it.

Thirty days.

Thirty days to repay a debt that was larger than she could even begin to imagine.

Thirty days before the only home she'd ever known belonged to someone else.

A loud laugh drifted in from a neighboring house.

Children were playing football on the street.

A radio blasted an old gospel song.

Life outside continued as though nothing had changed.

But inside the Bello home, the world had just stopped.

She bent down slowly, picked up the letter, and forced herself to read every word again.

Perhaps she'd misunderstood.

Perhaps there was another page.

Another option.

Another chance.

There wasn't.

The bank had been patient after her father's passing, but business was business. If no repayment plan was made within thirty days, the property would be repossessed and sold.

The paper crumpled in her hand.

She leaned against the wall, fighting the tears threatening to fall.

Not now.

She couldn't fall apart now.

Idris was upstairs.

He still believed she could fix everything.

She couldn't let him see how terrified she really was.

Taking a deep breath, she folded the letter neatly and tucked it back into its envelope just as Idris walked into the hallway.

"Who's at the door?"

She forced a smile.

"Just someone delivering documents."

He frowned.

"You've been getting a lot of those lately."

"Unfortunately."

He looked at her for a second longer.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

It was the biggest lie she'd told all week.

Idris didn't look convinced, but he let it go.

"I'm hungry."

"Perfect."

She smiled, grateful for the change of subject.

"I was just about to cook."

Dinner was simple.

Rice.

Stew.

Fried eggs.

Usually, Mr. Bello would have teased them for calling fried eggs a complete meal.

"One day I'll teach both of you how to cook properly," he used to say.

Neither of them mentioned him that evening.

Some memories hurt too much to touch.

Halfway through dinner, Idris broke the silence.

"I've been thinking."

Amina looked up.

"About what?"

"I could stop school."

The spoon slipped from her hand.

"What?"

"I could work."

"No."

"You haven't even heard me out."

"I don't need to."

"But—"

"No, Idris."

Her voice came out sharper than she intended.

He stared at her.

She softened immediately.

"I'm sorry."

He looked down at his plate.

"I just don't want you doing everything alone."

"I know."

"You've barely slept."

"I know."

"You keep pretending you're okay."

She smiled sadly.

"And you're pretending not to notice."

He chuckled quietly.

"I got that from you."

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

"Listen to me."

He nodded.

"You are finishing school."

"But—"

"No arguments."

"What if we lose the house?"

"We'll deal with that if it happens."

"And if it does?"

"We'll still have each other."

Her voice was steady.

Stronger than she felt.

"Home isn't just a building."

Idris swallowed hard.

"It's us."

For the first time since their father's funeral, he smiled.

A real smile.

Small.

But real.

The next morning began before sunrise.

Amina had made herself a promise.

If no one was willing to hire her...

She would make them notice her.

By seven o'clock, she had already emailed her résumé to twelve companies.

By eight, she was standing outside another pharmaceutical company, hoping for a walk-in interview.

The receptionist looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry."

Again.

"We're not recruiting."

"Could you keep my résumé?"

"Of course."

The same answer.

Different building.

Different person.

Same disappointment.

By lunchtime, she'd visited four more companies.

Her shoes were beginning to hurt.

She'd skipped breakfast to save money.

Even buying a bottle of water felt like an unnecessary expense now.

She sat on a bench outside a shopping complex and watched people rushing in and out carrying expensive shopping bags.

A little girl skipped past holding an ice cream almost as big as her face.

Her father laughed as she accidentally got chocolate on his sleeve.

Amina looked away.

Not because she envied them.

But because she missed moments like that.

Simple moments.

Normal moments.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

She hesitated before answering.

"Hello?"

"Miss Amina Bello?"

"Speaking."

"My name is Cynthia from Horizon Pharmaceuticals."

Her heart skipped.

One of the companies she'd emailed.

"We've reviewed your résumé."

She sat up straighter.

"Yes?"

"We'd like to invite you for an interview tomorrow morning at ten."

For a second...

She couldn't speak.

Finally.

Finally.

"Miss Bello?"

"Yes!"

She laughed through unexpected tears.

"I'm here."

"We'll email the details shortly."

"Thank you."

She ended the call and covered her mouth.

After days of rejection...

Someone had finally said yes.

It wasn't a job yet.

But it was a chance.

She looked up at the bright afternoon sky.

"Dad..."

she whispered.

"I won't waste it."

At the same time...

On the thirty-second floor of Ashford Holdings, Kael Ashford stood before the glass wall of his office, one hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored trousers.

The city stretched beneath him.

His assistant, Noah Carter, entered carrying another folder.

"The bank sent the final notice."

Kael didn't turn around.

"I expected they would."

"They'll repossess the house in thirty days."

Silence.

"They've also started interviewing."

"For?"

"The daughter."

Kael finally looked over his shoulder.

"Interviewing?"

"Horizon Pharmaceuticals called her this afternoon."

A flicker of something crossed Kael's face.

"So she hasn't given up."

"No."

"Interesting."

Noah studied him carefully.

"You've never shown this much interest in someone before."

Kael's expression returned to its usual calm.

"I'm interested in the situation."

Noah almost smiled.

"If you say so."

Kael ignored the comment.

"What about the investigation?"

"We're still looking into her father's company."

"And?"

"There are inconsistencies."

"What kind?"

"It doesn't look like he borrowed all that money willingly."

Kael's eyes narrowed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying..."

Noah placed another file on the desk.

"...someone may have set him up."

The room fell silent.

Kael slowly opened the file.

Several pages.

Financial records.

Transfers.

Signatures.

One signature didn't match the others.

His gaze lingered on it.

"Keep digging."

"Already am."

"And Noah..."

"Yes?"

"Don't let anyone know we're looking into this."

Noah nodded.

"Understood."

As the office door closed, Kael looked once more at the photograph clipped to Amina's file.

He wasn't in the habit of involving himself in strangers' lives.

He built businesses.

He solved problems.

He moved on.

So why couldn't he shake the feeling that the story of Amina Bello and her father was far from what it appeared?

That evening, Amina ironed her only navy blazer three times.

She checked her documents.

Her certificates.

Her identification card.

Her résumé.

Everything was carefully arranged in a brown folder.

She placed it on her bedside table before lying down.

Tomorrow could change everything.

She needed this job.

Not just because of the house.

Not just because of the debt.

But because it would be the first step toward rebuilding the life her father had dreamed for her.

As sleep finally claimed her, she had no idea that someone else, in another part of the city, had already begun uncovering secrets that would change both of their lives forever.

And neither of them knew that tomorrow's interview would not go as planned.