BENEATH THE LIES

cracks in the foundation

Micheal ’s POV

The room was buzzing with laughter and conversations, but all I could hear was the ticking of my watch. Every second that passed felt like a countdown to disaster. I needed this deal to go smoothly, but things were unraveling too quickly.

Mr. Ethan ’s voice droned on beside me, discussing numbers and logistics, but my mind was elsewhere. I glanced at Amara, standing across the room, her back to me as she surveyed the crowd. She looked as poised as ever, a perfect trophy wife. But I knew better. I could feel her slipping away, piece by piece.

She knew something—how much, I wasn’t sure yet. But the way she had been watching me lately, the questions she asked…she wasn’t as naïve as I’d hoped. I needed to get ahead of this before she did something stupid.

“…Micheal , are you even listening?” Mr. Ethan ’s sharp tone cut through my thoughts.

I blinked and forced a smile. “Of course, Mr Ethan. You were saying the shipment should arrive next week?”

He narrowed his eyes at me, clearly unconvinced by my attempt at focus. “That’s right. But there’s been some trouble at the port. Our contacts are saying the authorities have been sniffing around.”

I clenched my jaw. The last thing I needed was more attention from the authorities. “I’ll handle it,” I said, my voice tight. “We’ll make sure the shipment goes through without any issues.”

Mr. Ethan stared at me for a moment, as if weighing my words. “See that you do,” he finally said, his tone cold. “I don’t have patience for mistakes, Micheal .”

I nodded, but inside, I was fuming. The pressure was mounting from all sides Mr Ethan, the shipment, and now June. I needed control, and fast.

As I turned away from Mr. Ethan , I saw Clinton standing near the bar, watching me with that same smug expression he always wore. Something about him set me on edge, though I couldn’t put my finger on it. He’d been working with Banjo for a few months now, but I didn’t trust him. He was too smooth, too confident. And lately, he’d been getting a little too close to June for my liking.

I walked over to the bar, my jaw tight. “Clinton,” I said coolly as I approached. “Enjoying the party?”

He glanced at me, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Always, Micheal . You throw quite the event.”

I nodded, though his words did nothing to ease the tension in my chest. “What were you talking to June About earlier?”

His smile widened, but his eyes remained cold. “Just making conversation,” he said casually, taking a sip of his drink. “She’s quite the woman, isn’t she?”

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “She’s my wife,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.

Clinton raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my reaction. “Relax, Micheal . I was just being friendly. No harm in that, right?”

I didn’t respond, my eyes narrowing at him. Something about the way he said it made me feel like he was testing me, pushing me to see how far I’d go. I couldn’t afford to lose my temper—not here, not now. But the thought of him talking to June, planting who-knows-what ideas in her head, made my blood boil.

Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving Clinton at the bar. I needed to clear my head. The walls of the gala felt like they were closing in on me, the noise too loud, the people too close. I made my way outside, breathing in the cool night air.

The garden was quiet, a perfect escape from the chaos inside. I walked down the stone path, my thoughts racing. This deal was supposed to be my ticket to freedom, a way out of the mess I’d found myself in. But now everything felt uncertain. The authorities were getting too close, Banjo was growing impatient, and June…she was the wildcard I couldn’t control.

I stopped by the fountain, staring at the rippling water. I needed a plan. Something to keep everything from falling apart. But what? June had been asking too many questions lately, poking around in places she didn’t belong. I had tried to distract her, keep her focused on George and the house, but it wasn’t working. She was too smart for her own good.

I ran a hand through my hair, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I loved her, I really did, but I couldn’t let her ruin everything I had built. If she found out the truth about the business, about what I’d been doing behind her back…no, I couldn’t let that happen.

I’d have to find a way to keep her in line. To make sure she didn’t get too close to the truth. But how?

As I stood there, lost in thought, I heard footsteps approaching. I turned and saw June walking down the path toward me, her expression unreadable. My heart skipped a beat. Had she heard something? Did she know?

“Micheal ,” she said softly as she reached me. Her voice was calm, but I could see the tension in her eyes.

“What is it, June?” I asked, trying to keep my tone steady.

She hesitated for a moment, as if choosing her words carefully. “I’ve been thinking,” she began slowly. “About us. About everything.”

My chest tightened. This wasn’t good. “What do you mean?”

She looked down at the ground, her fingers twisting nervously in front of her. “Things haven’t been the same between us, Micheal . I feel like you’re…distant. Like you’re hiding something from me.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. She was too close. I needed to throw her off, make her doubt herself. “June,” I said, taking a step closer to her. “You’re imagining things. I’ve been stressed with work, that’s all. You know how much this deal means to me.”

She didn’t look convinced, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. “I don’t know, Micheal . I just…I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

I forced a laugh, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “Come on, June. You’re overthinking this. I love you. You know that.”

She glanced up at me, her eyes searching mine. For a moment, I thought she might let it go. But then she spoke again, her voice quiet but firm.

“I want the truth, Micheal .”

The air between us felt heavy, charged with unspoken tension. I stared at her, my mind scrambling for an answer, but before I could respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a message from Mr. Ethan .

Call me. We have a problem.

My heart sank. Not now. Not tonight.

“I have to take this,” I said quickly, stepping away from her. “We’ll talk later.”

Before she could protest, I turned and walked back toward the house, my mind spinning. The truth was, I didn’t know how much longer I could keep up this charade. The lies were piling up, and eventually, something would give. I just had to make sure it wasn’t me.