Daughter of the Buried Truth

Chapter Two: The Vow

Ashraf touched his bleeding lip and smiled darkly.

"That girl thinks she's untouchable."

He lifted his head, eyes burning.

"Wallahi... I'll break her walls one by one. I'll win her heart, marry her, and then drag out every secret she's hiding."

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Filled with fear and trembling, she lifted her head to look at him. From all indications, Daddy had realized her weakness concerning Junior, and that alone terrified her. Her heart was beating fast.

She slowly raised her head again for the second time, only to see deep regret written on his face because of what he had said.

Suddenly, from behind Daddy, she heard the voice of a mature woman saying:

"Alhamdulillah! At last, for once in my life, I finally have something to hold onto. Alhaji, what exactly is between you and this girl?

She came into our lives and destroyed my happiness. She separated you from me. Every day I live in fear, thinking this child is your son."

She pointed straight at Junior, who was clinging tightly to Daddy.

Daddy quickly cut her off and said sharply:

"Enough!"

He turned to Nuratu, who stood motionless like a statue, frozen to the spot, and said:

"Let's go."

She quietly followed behind him, her strength completely gone, as if something had cracked inside her.

Later, she sat on the carpet in a luxurious, palace-like living room, the kind fit for royalty, having just finished her prayer. The housemaids arranged different kinds of food and drinks before her.

"Nuratu."

Daddy's voice reached her, soft, gentle, filled with concern.

Weakly, she raised her eyes to him. His gaze rested on her as he said:

"Never allow people to see your weakness. They will use it to destroy you."

She nodded in understanding.

"Eat," he added.

She obeyed, though her mouth was dry, her throat tight, and her stomach heavy. She had no idea how she would swallow anything.

Still, because she was strong, she forced herself to sip some tea first, then slowly took a few bites of food. It tasted like medicine, bitter, heavy, unwanted.

Daddy kept watching her closely. He knew everything she had gone through. He knew every movement she made, every breath, every change in her expression.

Only when he was sure she had eaten almost half did he say:

"You recognized him, didn't you?"

She nodded gently. "Yes."

He studied her again, then said:

"Today is the first time you've ever seen him in person, right?"

"Yes."

He inhaled deeply.

"I know you, Nuratu. I know who you are. I want you to stay strong. I don't want trouble. Just be patient. Do you hear me?"

Without looking at him, she murmured:

"Insha Allah, I will."

Her mind drifted back to the scene. What troubled her the most was Mummy's unexpected outburst. She had never spoken to her like that before.

Now she understood the pressure Mummy and her family, and even Daddy's relatives, had been putting on her, even though none of them had ever directly accused her until today.

As if Daddy sensed her thoughts, he adjusted his sitting position, crossed one leg over the other, and said:

"Don't worry. Their suspicion is not new to me. You are the one hearing it for the first time. But it won't harm us, and it won't force us to reveal our secret, not until the time Allah has written."

She finally looked at his face, his expression firm. Junior was still resting quietly against him.

Before she could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps made her turn toward the door.

Ashraf stormed in angrily. He pointed at her and shouted:

"Wallahi, if I had known you were the one tormenting my mother, I wouldn't have spared you earlier. I would have run you over with my car and killed both you and that useless..."

A sharp slap, followed by a punch, cut him off.

Daddy had hit him.

Everyone froze.

Ashraf looked up in disbelief, meeting Daddy's eyes. There was no remorse there.

"Daddy, I'm bleeding!"

Daddy replied calmly:

"Good. And you'll see worse if you ever speak to her like that again."

He picked up the car keys used to pick Ashraf from the airport, tossed them at him, and said:

"Go and move that car you blocked the way with. And make sure you do it yourself. You already know what disobedience means."

Ashraf knew Daddy's temperament too well. Silently, he picked up the keys. Covering his bleeding mouth, he glared at her with hatred.

"Now I'm certain about everything they told me about you. Wait for me."

She gave him a wicked smile and looked away. She didn't enjoy seeing him hurt, but she had no choice, not if she wanted her plans to work.

After he left, Junior returned to her, resting on her lap. She stroked his face and whispered in her heart:

"Of course they will suspect me and Daddy. You looks too much like him. But Allah knows the truth, and He will be the One to save me."

Daddy interrupted her thoughts, handing her the key of a brand-new car.

"Take this whenever you want to go out. And you know I don't like people thanking me."

She simply nodded.

He continued:

"Can we talk about the business?"

She smiled and nodded again.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you wouldn't be calm enough for that right now."

She gave him a soft, confident smile.

"Daddy, this is Nuratu."

Daddy laughed, relaxing.

"Iron Lady," he called her, his usual nickname when he was in a good mood.

"You are extremely confident."

They both laughed as if nothing had happened minutes ago.

Then she pulled her laptop out of her bag, excitement returning to her face.

Meanwhile, on Ashraf's side of the story, after completing the task Daddy forced on him, he went straight to his bathroom and let cold water run over his head, hoping it would calm the storm inside him.

His heart was full of anger, shame, confusion, and wounded pride all battling at once.

He lifted his face again; his eyes were red, even though the cold water continued pouring down. His mind replayed every effort Daddy had made to shape him into a responsible man, someone worthy of handling his empire, someone disciplined enough to lead.

But back then, Ashraf was at the peak of youthful arrogance: wealth, looks, friends, and wild freedom had blinded him. He rebelled. He disrespected his own father.

He chased pleasure, ignored responsibility, and allowed his mother to spoil him under the excuse of "he's still young."

He clenched his jaw as memories stung him.

Daddy had suffered for him, poured years of discipline, money, sacrifices, and sleepless nights into him.

Yet he threw it all away.

He looked up at the mirror fixed to the bathroom wall. He stared at the swelling on his lip from Daddy's punch. His anger rose again.

He glared at his reflection and muttered:

"I'm not too young to run anything, Daddy... So how can a girl I'm sure is younger than me be ahead of me? Impossible."

With a burst of rage, he punched the mirror, shattering it.

A knock came instantly on the bathroom door.

"When you're done, come out. We need to talk."

It was Mummy's voice.

He later sat at the edge of a massive, luxurious bed. The room felt heavy, silent, suffocating.

Mummy placed her hand gently on his shoulder and said:

"This is only a fraction of what I've been going through because of that girl. I have no peace, Ashraf."

She sighed deeply and continued:

"For five years, five whole years, ever since she came into Alhaji's life, I've been facing trials. You were away because of your health, but even after you got better, he refused to let you return to help him in business.

I begged him, pleaded, reasoned with him, but all he told me was, 'He is still a boy; he is not ready yet.'"

Mummy shook her head in frustration.

"You're 35 now. He should have handed responsibilities to you, but instead he pushed everyone aside. my relatives, his relatives, people who have worked with him for years. He paid them off and dismissed them."

She leaned forward and said bitterly:

"All because of her. He trusts her. He depends on her. He listens only to her. I swear, sometimes I think she knows more about his businesses than he does."

She paused.

"I have tried every method to separate them. Nothing worked."

She stood, took a step, then turned back to him.

"But what scares me most is this: my lawyers found evidence that Alhaji bought several major properties and companies under her child's name."

In shock, Ashraf jumped to his feet, eyes wide.

"What?!"

She nodded with a painful certainty.

He stepped closer, gripping her arms.

"When did you find out about this? Why didn't you tell me?"

His voice shook with anger.

"Is he... is he married to her?"

His voice dropped lower, confused and disturbed.

"Mummy, are you sure they're not married?"

With a soothing tone, she reassured him:

"No. He didn't marry her. I checked. If Alhaji wanted to marry her, he would tell me. He is a straightforward man. And my investigations confirmed it: he did not marry her."

She took his hands and made him sit again.

"I even went as far as arranging a secret DNA test between Alhaji and that child. Three separate doctors confirmed: he is not the father."

She exhaled painfully.

"Five years ago, Alhaji brought her into my house in London. She was two months pregnant. He claimed she was his friend's daughter, and I took care of her until she delivered, in my presence.

But later, he changed the story and said she was not related to him at all."

She rubbed her forehead in frustration.

"I have spied on them for years, but I still don't understand what connects them."

Ashraf's chest tightened. He inhaled sharply, anger turning into a dangerous calm.

He faced Mummy, eyes red with fury.

"What pains me the most is that he treats her more importantly than you," he said.

"But don't worry, Mummy. I know exactly how to deal with them."

He rose and began walking toward the door.

Mummy hurried after him and grabbed his hand.

"What are you planning to do? I don't want you to anger your father again. Whatever we do must be with wisdom. They are both very smart, especially her."

A dark smile appeared on his face.

He touched his swollen lip and said:

"I see. She's fearless... bold... strategic. She's used to fighting her way through life. I saw it in her eyes."

He turned to Mummy:

"But I'll exploit her weakness as a woman. I'll uncover whatever secret they're hiding. And I'll tear them apart."

Mummy asked quickly:

"How?"

His smile deepened, cold, victorious.

"Love... and marriage."

He stepped closer.

"I'll win her heart. And you know I will."

Mummy nodded, pleased.

He continued:

"Once she falls for me, I'll bring up marriage. That's when I'll finally understand their relationship. If Daddy has any feelings for her, or if there's something between them, his jealousy will expose everything."

He brushed past Mummy toward the door.

"...She'll learn that: a man is always above a woman. One way or another."

And he walked out.

Mummy smiled softly with satisfaction and returned to sit at the edge of her bed. Deep down, she had always known that the path Ashraf had chosen would lead to success, because she understood her son completely.

She knew he was the kind of man women naturally gravitated toward, the man they liked instantly. She had seen how they fought over him, how they raised their voices, and even spent their money, all in their desperate attempts to win his attention.

Even she had endured pressure from her friends' daughters, her relatives' daughters, and even women of high status who openly showed how much they loved him.

It took a lot of effort and firmness before she was able to calm things down. But most of them only became quiet not because they gave up, but because he had been out of the country for many years.

With all these calculations that Mummy and Ashraf were making, clearly none of them knew who Nuratu Abdussalam Wada truly was.

They only looked at her from the surface. In their minds, she was weak when it came to love, someone they could use and push to the ground.

They didn't know she was far beyond that level, that where she lifted her foot from was where they were trying to plant theirs.

That was why they had never succeeded against her until now, and truly, I don't think they ever will. In fact, they might be the ones to end up defeated.