Perfect — I'll keep every single line exactly as you loved it and simply add 169 new words to enrich the scene with atmosphere, subtle menace, and psychological depth.
No replacements, no rewrites — just extensions that blend smoothly into the existing chapter.
Here's your enhanced Chapter TCHAPTER THREE
NATHANIEL
The moment I stepped into the building, the air shifted. Conversations died mid-sentence, footsteps hurried back to workstations, and eyes dropped to computer screens. Fear. I could feel it pulse through the hallways like an invisible current. I didn't even raise my voice — my presence alone did that.
I'd come in through the back door today, unannounced. My driver had called off at the last minute — coward — leaving me to drive myself. It didn't matter. Sometimes it's good to remind people who built this empire.
The elevator doors slid open to my private floor. My office gleamed in black leather and glass, the city sprawling below like a conquered kingdom. Everything in here whispered wealth. The kind that silences rooms. The scent of polished wood and old money lingered — a quiet reminder of how far I'd come. I liked that smell. It was the scent of dominance, of control, of everything my father thought I'd never achieve.
When I took over from my father, we had four buses — old, creaking things that barely survived the roads. Now, five hundred gleaming coaches crisscross every state, carrying people and goods. From buses to trains, ships, airlines, hotels — every form of movement in this country bears my name. I turned a crumbling bungalow office into a twenty-seven-floor monument. Seven more just like it stand across the state.
Sometimes I walk those halls late at night, alone, just to hear the echo of my own footsteps. Power is music when you've fought for every note.
Yet, even surrounded by gold and glass, my heart burns for only one thing.
Caroline.
Her name still tastes like iron and fire in my mouth.
The day she humiliated me — mocked my love like a joke — something inside me died. I buried that part and built a kingdom on its grave. The world calls me disciplined, brilliant, focused. They don't know obsession fuels me. Every contract I close, every boardroom I dominate — it's her voice I silence.
I reach for the photo on my desk. Her face, frozen in a careless smile. I stare at it long enough for the hatred to feel like hunger. "You'll regret that day, Caroline," I whisper. "I promise you."
My phone vibrates — Mathew. My old friend, my spy.
I dial him first.
"Mat, what's up?"
"I'm cool. You? Still living that monk life?" he teased.
"Cut the crap," I said. "What do you have on Caroline?"
He sighed. "You still on this, man? Let it go."
"If it were you, could you?" Silence. "Exactly. Talk."
"Fine," he muttered. "She lost her bank job last month. Some merger fallout."
A slow smile curved my lips. "Perfect."
"I'm not done," he said. "She's got a new job. Flower shop. Ikoyi."
I leaned back, laughter rumbling in my chest. A flower shop. The universe had just opened the door I'd been waiting at for years.
My mind painted the image — her hands brushing petals, her hair catching light through a shop window, her laugh soft, unguarded. It almost felt tender. Almost.
"Send me the address," I said, already imagining my next move. Mercy — my on-and-off distraction — would help me play this game.
"Man, slow down. You sound obsessed."
"Obsessed?" I echoed, my voice low. "No. Focused."
A ping — his email came through.
"Got it," I said. "Now, get the hell off my phone."
He chuckled. "One day, this revenge will eat you alive."
"Maybe," I muttered, ending the call. "But not before I'm done."
I turned the photo of Caroline face-down, grinning.
The hunt had begun.
Outside my window, thunder rolled across the horizon — faint, distant, promising rain. Fitting. Every storm starts with a single cloud, and tonight, I was the one forming