BLOODlines

11: Mrs. Adams first Plot

The days following Cherish’s confrontation with her mother were suffocating. Evelyn’s watchful presence hovered over every corner of the hospital ward. Nurses were instructed to report Cherish’s every movement, visitors were screened twice before entry, and her phone—once her lifeline to the world outside—was quietly confiscated.

Cherish felt like a prisoner.

Not because of her injuries, but because of her mother’s fear.

She stared out the hospital window at the city below, yearning for freedom, yearning for Frank. But her mother’s shadow was inescapable.

Meanwhile, Evelyn moved with the precision of a general preparing for war. Her daughter’s rebellion had shaken her more than she would ever admit, but she was not a woman to be outmaneuvered. She had survived too many battles in the cutthroat world of business and social politics to allow a mere boy to undo her.

Late one evening, Evelyn invited her trusted confidant, Mrs. Serena, into her study. The older woman, with sharp eyes and lips that rarely softened into a smile, had been Evelyn’s ally for years. She was the kind of friend who knew how to handle secrets—and bury them if necessary.

“She’s slipping away from me,” Evelyn confessed, pacing the room. “This boy—Frank—he’s not just a distraction. He’s a threat. He’s weaving himself into her heart, and if I don’t cut the cord now, she’ll choose him over everything.”

Mrs. Serena raised a brow. “Then you cut him out. Permanently. Boys like him vanish every day. Poor, invisible, forgettable. Your daughter will cry for a while, but she’ll get over it.”

Evelyn paused, her jaw tightening. “You mean…”

Mrs. Serena leaned forward. “I mean ruin him. Strip him of any dignity, any standing. Make him so undesirable, so tainted, that even Cherish won’t dare to see him again.”

The words settled like poison in Evelyn’s chest. She hated the cruelty of it, yet the thought of losing Cherish to Frank was unbearable.

Across town, Frank tried to push Cherish from his mind, but every attempt failed. He kept replaying the sight of her on his doorstep—pale, trembling, yet determined. Her words still echoed in his chest: Maybe it’s time I choose.

Ray noticed his nephew’s silence at dinner, the way his food lay untouched.

“You’re thinking about her again,” Ray said, his voice quiet but firm.

Frank dropped his fork. “She came to me, Uncle. She risked everything to see me. And now… now I’m the reason she’s suffering her mother’s wrath.”

Ray studied him for a long moment. “Frank, love isn’t easy. Especially love that crosses worlds like yours and hers. But you must ask yourself—what will you fight for? Her freedom, or your own safety?”

Frank’s hands tightened into fists. He didn’t answer.

Back in Evelyn’s world, the plot thickened.

The following morning, she sat at her desk, flipping through a file her driver had discreetly gathered. Inside were fragments of Frank’s life—where he lived, where he worked, even whispers of unpaid bills and his uncle’s failing business.

“Pathetic,” she muttered, though her lips curled into a smile. She saw her angle.

Later that day, Evelyn visited a well-connected journalist, a man who owed her more favors than he could count. She slid the file across his desk, her nails tapping against the folder.

“I want a piece printed,” she said smoothly. “Discreet but devastating. Paint him as reckless, unstable, unworthy. Dig deeper if you must—but I want him buried before my daughter can lift him up.”

The journalist hesitated. “And if it backfires? If your daughter sees through it?”

Evelyn’s eyes flashed. “Then I’ll take the next step. Believe me, I won’t stop until he is nothing but a shadow.”

That evening, Cherish confronted her mother again. She had overheard whispers among the nurses, fragments of Evelyn’s anger and secret dealings.

“You’re plotting something,” she accused, her voice trembling but strong.

Evelyn looked at her, calm as glass. “I’m protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” Cherish’s eyes filled with tears. “Or protecting your pride?”

Evelyn rose from her chair, her presence towering. “You are my only child. My legacy. And I will not let you throw yourself into ruin over a boy who has nothing to offer.”

Cherish’s voice broke, but her spirit didn’t. “Maybe I don’t want a legacy. Maybe I just want love.”

The silence that followed was shattering.

Evelyn’s eyes darkened. “Then you leave me no choice.”

Two days later, Frank’s world began to unravel.

The newspaper headline hit the streets:

“Local Youth Reckless Hero or Hidden Danger? Troubling Details Emerge.”

The article painted him as a drifter with no future, a burden to his uncle, a man unfit for any respectable woman. Half-truths and twisted facts wove together into a cruel tapestry.

Frank’s hands shook as he read it, rage and helplessness burning inside him. Neighbors who once smiled now looked at him with suspicion. Even his workplace called to “temporarily suspend” him until the matter “cleared.”

Ray slammed his fist on the table. “This isn’t coincidence. Someone’s behind this.”

Frank’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need to ask who. He already knew.

Evelyn Adams.

That night, Frank stood outside under the stars, the newspaper crushed in his fist. He swore quietly to himself, his voice rough with determination:

“If she wants a fight… then she’ll get one.”