If life was a lover, I think I must've broken his heart in my past existence. For here he was yet again, making me suffer for something I knew nothing about.

"Gracious Lord, Sofia Blake, you are clumsy. Better pray that you will be able to remove that stain before it forever mars my floors" my cruel witch of a stepmother, Alicia Blake hissed as she watched me from her lounging chair.

I hated her and this morning, I couldn't hate her more. She was well aware that I had an interview to get to. With not just any company, but the Wellington Fashion Empire. My dream place of employment and yet here I was wiping a cursed oil stain left by her devious feline.

Frisk, the evil creature sat beside the hinges of the table, licking his paws in obvious triumph as I glared at it.

For generations, the Wellingtons have reigned supreme. My ancestors wore their designs and I hope to do so one day… when I can afford their exorbitant prices.

Judging from the time hanging on the mantel, I was one minute late already. I had busted my ass off to get that interview and I wasn't going to lose it.

"Please ma, I'm already running late, can I do this when I get back" I made another attempt at pleading when the oil stain showed no hope of saving me time.

She paid me no heed as she slowly sipped her tea. Before I could try another plea, her just as cruel twin daughters came running to her,

"Mama, look what I found" Annabel sang, holding up the clothes I had selected to wear to the interview.

"Dear Sofy, wants to wow the Wellingtons and we can't let that happen, right mama? Mirabel said, fingering the lacy white shirt I had designed and sewn during my internship at Bogue.

It was a beautiful thing with flared sleeves like the petals of a rose and a pleated bodice. That design had fetched me accolades and millions of dollars which Alicia had confiscated.

It killed them knowing that no matter what they did to me, it didn't diminish my beauty or intellect.

Alicia Blake was known for her hats, she was a mogul herself wowing the world with designs mostly mine in hats, fascinators, berets, fedora, name it. She was good, but I was better. It often surprised people that with her looks, the widow refused to remarry even with prominent men falling at her feet.

Pretty with chestnut curly hair, eyes of the same hue, lips - thin lines of fuchsia, and a slim body that had fetched her popularity during her young age as a model.

Annabel and Mirabel were just like her, beautiful and cruel, with the same body figure and features.

In truth, she wasn't really my stepmom or maybe she was. My father, unbeknownst to me and my mother, had been the mastermind behind the 'Global Heist of 99'. The heist that had crippled the world finances for a week before his accomplices were arrested and most of the funds stolen were recovered.

I was just 8 when it happened, I had been watching the news with my mom when we saw the man we loved, labeled 'world most wanted criminal'. My father was rarely at home and we believed his absence was because of his work as a broker, whereas he had been a criminal.

A week later, the cops broke into our house. Mom had hidden me in the secret passage behind the wardrobe, but they had taken her. Our house was confiscated and they were to return to properly ransack everything. I had thought I would be discovered, but that night, my father came back and took me.

He brought me to Alicia, who was another lie he never told us about. She was also his wife, and people didn't know about it, just like they didn't know of me. Only my mom could they associate with him after finding their wedding photo online. Apparently as secluded as the wedding had been, a family member couldn't resist the temptation of posting a photo online.

My name was changed from Sofia Reed, to Sofia Blake, which was the name of Alicia's late husband before she met my dad. Wait, she had been cheating on her husband with my dad even when the poor guy had been alive, hence the twins whom everyone believes are Blakes whereas they are actually Reeds. Who knows, their dalliance might have been the main reason behind the poor man's demise.

It took months, but eventually Simon Reed, the Red Terror, was caught. He was sentenced to life imprisonment after confiscation of almost all his properties and accounts. Except the one he had gifted to Alicia for my upkeep and that of hers and the twins. Which after 14 years, no one has discovered.

I still don't know what happened to my mom, some say she was tortured till her death for the whereabouts of her husband which she claimed to have no clue of, others say she is still alive slowly rotting behind bars.

That's one of the reasons why I need this job, it may not be my dream position, but it was in my dream company and who knows, I might eventually rise to my dream position of a designer and a stylist. Which will earn me enough pay and reputation to solicit for the whereabouts of my mother without raising eyebrows. That's if these evil people don't ruin my chances.

"You are absolutely right, my precious. We really can't let that happen" Alicia crooned, the sound of ripping fabric filled the hall as she tore one of the flares on the right sleeve of the shirt.

"Please, please!" I could already feel the tears brimming in my eyes. But who was I kidding, that never stopped them before neither did it now.

My tears and pleas, instead motivated them as they shredded my shirt and skirt to as many pieces as their hands could allow. Wicked Mirabel like the rabid dog she was, even used her teeth when her hands no longer allowed her.

Dumping them in the pail of dirty water I was using to mop the floor, she added, a devilish smile on her lips,

"Come along girls, we have a business to run."

"Yes, mama", they trailed after her, throwing mocking looks as they passed.

Just when I thought they were gone, happy to abandon this fruitless chore for my interview. Alicia turned and as if reading my mind, she said standing in the open door, haloed by the morning sun;

"Don't even think of stepping an inch without restoring that tile to high shine. I would hate to pull up at your interview announcing exactly who you are. That you are alive and here today, it's only because of my name. Don't you ever, ever in your excuse of existence, forget that"

As silence settled around me, I was once again reminded that I never would've been in this situation if my mom hadn't fallen for a crook such as my father. Love ruined my life and it was still doing so. But as much as I dream about leaving this house, I would never do it if it involves love.

Just as Alicia had told me on that night in the ninth grade after I got my heart broken by Jake, the boy I had fallen head over heels for, but he had broken my heart by cheating on me with Mirabel of all persons;

"Love is stupid. Love is for fools and love will only hurt you"

That was the only night she treated me like I was a human being. She had held me and consoled me as my broken heart bled. Maybe she did it because her daughter was involved, or because she had wanted to break me more. I remember that was the night she told me that I was just like my mom, "a fool who falls for a bad guy and even after realizing that he isn't any good, remains with him because she loves him, but to what end - a broken heart and a shattered life."

I had been confused as to how that related with my mom, or perhaps I had been too heartbroken to care, but I read meaning into her words a few days later. My mom knew. She found out the type of person my dad was and because she loved him, she had stayed. And now, I was paying the price.

A lesson. That was what I learnt that night even though I think it's the last thing Alicia thought I would gain from her obscured confession.

Scrubbing the tile more ferociously, I repeated, gritting the words like I could crush them with my teeth;

"Love is stupid. Love is for fools…" wiping the tears blurring my vision, I finished,

" And indeed love will only hurt".

" Are you alright, Sir?" Lanke, my driver asked with that weird accent of his.

" Of course I'm not" I had wanted to snap, but Lanke was one of those few persons I've come to respect. He was a black, advancing into his late fifties. Three years into the job, putting up with my outbursts, insults and demeaning attitude, I respected him unlike those young blood who always bailed a few months from the job.

The longest anyone of them had stayed was a year and six months before deciding that my attitude wasn't worth the pay. I never expected that I would ever come to like Lanke, one, he was older and doesn't get me at times and two, he has a weird accent which he claimed was because he was a Yoruban.

A tribe according to him in West Africa, Nigeria to be precise.

The truth was that I'm far from alright. How could I be when each second, minute, hour and day, feels like a countdown leading to the inevitable. I may not take my situation seriously in the presence of others, but deep down I was scared shit of dying.

I watched him look at me again through the rear mirror, his face a contour of worried lines and reminded myself that I was Richard Wellington and I hate pity. Lanke knew of my condition and that alone should be enough to fire him, but for some unfathomable reasons, I just couldn't.

"Lanke, what have I told you about that look?" I asked, catching him off guard.

"Uhm… Sorry Sir, as a father myself I…"

"Just wipe it off your face and keep your eyes on the road" I interjected, not in the mood for his overly concern.

With a forced smile, he muttered, "Yes Sir".

A pang of guilt thrummed through me and before it could spread to my cold heart, my phone rang.

The number wasn't one I recognized and as I wasn't in the mood for dealing with strangers or fans. I allowed it to continue vibrating. The urge to get high and simply float on the clouds of ecstasy tugged with desperation in my mind as the phone kept ringing. But I couldn't even do that since I was with Lanke, and he hated seeing me smoke. It's times like this that I miss my younger employees, especially Trey, who always got the good stuff.

After the second ring, I was curious about the voicemail that came after. So I punched on the button.

"Hello" it began in a feminine voice I didn't recognize, I almost dismissed it as one of those girls I had moved on from, but somehow was still stuck in the dream of getting me back, when it continued;

"This is Beck from Falling Stars Hotel, if this is Richard Wellington then Sir, a certain friends of yours, hold on a minute, Sir what do you say it's your name again" I felt the pause as if in that moment she had been holding the phone away from her mouth, a voice I would recognize anywhere grumbled in the background, "Chad Ramsey".

The voice mail continued, " Okay , so Sir your friend Chad Ramsey has been here for a few days now and he has accumulated quite a debt. His credit card has been maxed and according to him, you are the only one who can help him, so if you get this message don't hesitate to come save your friend."

" Fuck!" I yelled after the beep at the end of the voice mail.

I heard Lanke utter a curse in his dialect and the car screeched to a halt. Without even waiting for a go ahead order, he revised the car and sped towards the location. I couldn't have liked him more than I did at that moment, the guy knew me and how I never play with those I care about.

"Pick up. Pick up" I agitatedly spoke over the dialing tone.

"Why are you calling this early?", Aaron Wald grumpily said after the fourth ring.

"Hey Wald, it's Chad again. He's been held at Falling Stars for accumulation of debt. I'm already on my way there, could you get your ass there?"

"For heaven's sake, we warned Chad about that girl and now you're seeing it. How low love can hit a man, anyway though I have someplace I need to be, but I will be there…" I think he had meant to say more before the voice in the background asked "Baby, where are you going? You promised that you would be mine all day"

"Oh get over yourself Ella or is it Bella… what's that your name again?"

"It's Keila, actually" I heard a girl say and Aaron fly as he zipped himself before continuing,

"I know I hit that thing right, but is it really enough to start calling me 'baby'. And I have to ask 'are you dumb or just stupid?', thinking that I, Aaron Wald, was going to actually stay here with you all day especially after I have had my fill of you last night. In case you didn't get the clue, I just said that because I wanted to get in there." A chuckle, then there was a kiss, probably he had kissed her on the forehead before adding "You were exceptional darling, but Aaron Wald is always on the hunt for better. I will wire some money to your account, let it be my parting gift. Bye Leila"

" But Baby… Aaron… Baby" and a door banged shut, fading away her voice.

"Same old Wald" I thought, smiling to myself as I hit the end-call button.

I loved my friends, we had met at high school and years later we remain solid. We were sometimes called 'The Heartbreak Trio" by a certain news column. Others called us "BP's" (Billionaire Playboys), that was until Chad who according to his name and its usage in the internet slang, seduction community and incel slang. He was very handsome and tall. The kind of man whom women find sexually attractive and he had reveled in such attention. Dating more girls than Aaron and I combined until he met Zara.

Zara was an Indian model we met at one of the fashion shows. She had a skin that glowed and dark hair so rich and long that it touched her bulging butts. I had liked her the first time I saw her, hell, we all liked her and like every other time we all liked one girl at the same time. The challenge to see which of us would sway her was instigated.

I have never lost such a challenge, in fact, Chad and Wald suspected at the beginning that I would win, considering my charm, influence and looks, though they never voiced such concerns.

Zara proved to be very difficult. She was the kind of girl who knew just how beautiful she was and she flaunted her assets like a whip. Lashing out at anyone who came close. After three months of no progress, we gave up or I thought we all did. As a billionaire with such rakish reputation I hated for the news or gossip columns to carry something like;

"Billionaire Playboy, Richard Wellington fails to sweep Zara Vishwamitra, the Indian goddess, off her feet"

Or,

"Zara Vishwamitra chooses her career over dalliance. Oops, Richard."

Apparently, Chad never did let her go, somehow he had fallen for her more than the 'like' category and I don't really know if it was the consistency or the genuineness, but he got Zara. He got the girl we had failed to get.

Their love story trended for weeks, with headlines like,

"Billionaire Playboy, Chad Ramsey is smitten"

"Love arrests the cold heart of Chad Ramsey in the form of Zara Vishwamitra"

"It's a new dawn—Zara & Chad"

They even had hashtags like - #Chadra #Zarhad among the rest.

It lasted three years before Zara broke his heart. I really don't remember what happened, but it was after they had traveled to India–yeah it was that serious. Our boy came back two weeks earlier than expected, all teary and gloomy.

I think it was something about Zara's parents and family members not finding him worthy of upholding their traditions and customs or was it Zara, herself?

It's been three weeks now and my boy still hasn't gotten over her. He had stuck with gambling, drinking and clubbing away from dawn till dusk. To the extent that his card has been maxed. Thankfully it was one.

The modern skyscraper silver façade building of the famous 'Falling Stars Hotel' appeared into view, shimmering like the night sky under the morning light, startling me back to the present.

As Lanke pulled over, I promised myself again, "never ever to give a girl or love such power and effect over me."

Putting on my dark shades because the last thing I needed was paparazzi, I alighted from the obsidian Mercedes Benz S-class S 580. Lanke flanked my side as we made our way to the entrance.

In haste as to not get discovered, I didn't stop to admire the dramatic, cantilevered roofline and the gleaming chrome-coated porte-cocheré that marked the hotel entrance.

That changed when I stood in the lobby. It wasn't my first time, but I couldn't help but admire the decor. The sight always has me tranced no matter how many times I see it. High-ceilinged with a vast crystal chandelier that refracted light into a kaleidoscope of colors, which appeared dark with my shades. The dark marble floors polished to high shine and the walls, painted with murals and scenes from Greek myths and clouds with cherubs spanning the endless blue.

Cream colored plush sofas were arranged in pairs each facing the other and divided by a circular marble table of the same hue.

Lanke stalked off to speak with one of the receptionists, and once again I was reminded that I needed a personal assistant. That was another job area people don't have the patience and humility for. The worst part of it was that these people need the pay and heaven knows I'm more than generous Yet they leave after a few months of employment, most times, days. It was a simple job, do all I tell you to do exactly how it's specified and never get on my nerves. But they always just have to ignore the last part. They always have to do something wrong.

"As I live and breathe, if it's not Raky

Richy"

By gods, how I abhorred that name and worse the voice uttering it. Muttering a curse, I turned to face Lindsey.

"Hello Lind" I said, masking a smile.

" You know I hate it when you call me that…"

" Likewise" I retorted before she could say more.

Waving off my statement, she continued in that squeaky voice I have come to hate,

"Anyway what brings you here, business or pleasure, you know I can always join you if it's the latter" she ran her manicured fingers down the length of my arm.

Something rose at my throat at the thought of doing anything with her again. When I met her that night at the 'Suns Arts Auction' staring at the painting of swirling colors on a dark background captioned 'Dream'. I had wanted nothing, but to fuck her until she saw all those colors and I did a few hours later. After a nice long conversation where she had given me the name "Raky Richy". But after, as I stared at her snoring beside me I just wasn't feeling her anymore.

Don't get me wrong, Lindsey was beautiful with short straight brown hair, gunmetal eyes- which had been what had attracted her to me. The way those colors of the painting created a mesmerizing art within her lashes. A full red lips and a petite body. But I remember feeling disgust as I watched her sprawled beside me.

When people stared at the person sleeping next to them especially after rouns of raw fuck, it's usually to memorize their beautiful features, but as I stared at her, I noticed that her nose was slightly crooked, freckles surrounded it, her lips weren't so perfect and from the slight opening between them, I saw that one of her front teeth was mismatched. I had asked myself why I didn't notice all these things before fucking her and for fear of noticing more, I remember dashing out of there at 2 am.

Holding her hand away from me, I gritted, "Nice seeing you, Lind, but I have to run along now"

She grabbed my hand as I made to leave, leaning close, she whispered nibbling at my ear,

" You know I haven't forgiven you for that stunt you pulled leaving me all alone in that hotel room or for ghosting and blocking me after on X, Facebook, hell blocking me everywhere, but gods have I missed you and that beast" in spite of myself I felt the beast in question reacting to her hot mint breath on my ear.

"Oops, looks like he missed me too" she moaned, biting harder as her palm rested on the bulge beyond my fly.

"Eh hehm" Lanke coughed from behind me.

Stepping away from Lindsey, "A pleasure to meet you, Lind" I brushed a kiss on her hand and followed Lanke.

"I will be expecting your call, Richy!" She called after me.

People stared, boy, was I glad she hadn't called me by my full name. It seemed none had recognized me yet. Holding my phone before the bulge, I quickened my steps.

"Sir, you look uncomfortable" Lanke joked as we followed a staff to the gold elevator.

" Not one more word, Lanke" I emphasized with a raised finger. He had kept his cool until the elevator dinged shut, that was when he burst into laughter. A deep throaty sound I rarely hear, and hella infectious cause I found myself laughing too.

Bright lights greeted us as we stepped out of the elevator to a sprawling open-plan living area with a baby grand piano and a fireplace.

"Money is good", I heard Lanke whistle as he took in the penthouse my friend lounged. The glass-enclosed balcony offered a 360 degrees view of the city. The bed that could house 6 hefty men comfortably. Artworks from contemporary times adorned the space, highlighted by the subtle glow of the crystal chandelier hanging above like shards of gold ice.

Everything was up to VIP standards, even the very floors we walked on, gold and dark ties spanned the space. Together with the lights, it was not just an enrapturing sight, it was comfy.

I could see why Chad chose this place. Except for the fact that he could have easily accessed any of his family hotels, this penthouse in Falling Stars offered comfort and relaxation that most other establishments couldn't rival.

"What is it, again? I told you guys that my friend is coming, can't you give a guy some peace?

Walking towards the sound of the voice, I saw my friend curled up by the side of the bed or what's left of him.

Chad's eyes were reddish and rimmed with a purplish tint. His face was swollen and had red blotches, his lips were a fading shade of fuchsia as if he was dehydrated. Simply put, he looked like shit.

"Hey Chad, it's Rich. I'm here" I squatted to his level as he raised his hands to my face as if he was finding it hard to believe it was really me.

"Richy, is it really you?" I answered with a nod, not trusting myself to say anything as tears brimmed at my eyes.

Another fact about me is that I tend to get very emotional at times. Maybe it's because of my heart condition, being weak and all. I always try to hide it, layer it all underneath rage, but it's there no matter how much I try to hide it.

The thing with hiding stuff is that the more you hide them, the better you become at doing it. Sniffing the tears back, I held my friend as his, flowed.

"I know you hate seeing me like this. Weak. Crying like a child and shit. It's pathetic, I know, but this shit is hard. I try to stay strong, to get her out of my mind. Even fuck other bitches, but she's always there, haunting me like a fucking ghost" he had said in between sobs.

Shushing him, I said, "It's alright, I may not understand what it feels like, but I've got you" aiming for some relief, I added, "just happy you didn't come with all your cards though, cause I won't say the same against your ass-whooping mama"

"Oh, shut up" I felt the quiver as he chuckled.

Truly, I hated seeing a grown-ass man reduced to a cry-baby, all for something as wack as love. And I know for damn sure that this will never ever be me any day, not in the future and most definitely not in another lifetime.

Tossing my phone with my left hand, I mouthed Lanke to call Aaron to see what's keeping him. Cause clearly I really needed extra hands on Chad's situation.