We enter the grand hall of Mr. Imani’s mansion. The party is being held here. I couldn’t resist this man’s demand. In fact, I didn’t have the courage to.
I’ve tied my hair tightly into a bun on top of my head and put on a little makeup. I’m wearing a beautifully tailored cream-colored pantsuit with an ivory satin button-up shirt underneath.
I bite my lip nervously.
There’s no way Grandpa isn’t at this party.
Rasha walks beside me. He greets a few people, exchanging polite pleasantries. His hand settles on my waist, making my whole body tense. I glance at his serious face from the corner of my eye. Without a second thought, he introduces me to a few people.
Very casually, he uses the word **“my wife.”**
The sheer nonchalance with which he says it irritates me.
My eyes wander around t
