Chapter Three: Struggles and Confrontation
James, looking confused and cornered, got down from the bed, hoping to make a run for it. But Nora's sister was already guarding the door.
"Don't give me that nonsense," Hannah said sharply. "Do you think I'm that easy to fool? You know the rules of this family. Whether you like it or not, he's going to marry you. From today on, he's our son-in-law."
"What? Son-in-law? Just like that?" James thought to himself in shock. This must be a dream. Please let me wake up.
"Shut your mouth!" Hannah barked. "You say you didn't do anything, yet your trousers are on the floor and you were lying on her bed. Aren't these your trousers?" She pointed to the pair the housemaids had thrown aside.
James stood speechless.
"But Mum—" Nora tried to protest.
"I'm done talking. Young man, you're coming with me and the driver now. I don't want to hear a word."
James picked up his trousers and dressed. He had no home of his own, and at least this meant he had a place to stay—temporarily.
When they reached the parked car, the driver opened the back seat for Hannah. She gestured for James to enter from the other side. He slid in silently, and then she followed.
The driver started the engine and sped off.
During the ride, Hannah turned toward James. "Mister man, what's your name?"
"My name is James," he replied quietly.
"And what do you do for a living? Where do you live?"
James's heart pounded. He couldn't afford to lie. If they found out later, things could get worse. He hesitated.
"James, or whatever your name is! Don't you have a mouth? I asked you questions, and you're keeping quiet. What's wrong with you?" she snapped.
"Nothing, ma. I was just… thinking about what happened earlier."
"Listen carefully. I don't like repeating myself. I'll ask one more time: what do you do for a living, and where do you live?"
"I… I clean houses."
"What!" Hannah's eyes widened. "That explains your hesitation. I'm disappointed in my daughter—letting someone like you into her life. And where do you live?"
"I live in an orphanage," James admitted. "Sometimes I sleep at my workplace or with friends."
"So you're an orphan?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
"Yes, ma."
Hannah shook her head. "I don't even know how you got involved with my daughter. But since you're here, and if you plan to stay, you'll earn your place. You'll clean and cook before leaving for your job—every day."
"Yes, ma," James replied, resigned. He knew this meant early mornings and late nights, but at least he had a roof over his head.
When they arrived at the house, Nora didn't say a word to him. She ate quietly, then disappeared into her bedroom.
James tried to follow her, hoping for a conversation, but she stopped him at the door and pointed to a vacant room. Without protest, he entered and slept there until morning.
At dawn, James woke up early. Without waiting for instructions, he swept the compound, mopped the floors, and cooked breakfast before preparing for work. He believed that if he kept proving himself, they might one day allow him to marry Nora.
After James finished cooking, he set the table and began to eat. Nora didn't lift a finger around the house—she simply woke up, took her bath, ate the food James had prepared, and got ready for work without even thanking him.
As James was halfway through his meal, he glanced at the clock and panicked. He was running late. Leaving the rest of the food untouched, he rushed to get ready and headed out.
Earlier that week, James had already complained to Hannah. "Ma, I can't do all the house chores and still get to work on time. It's too much."
But Hannah was unyielding. "Any day you don't complete what I ask before leaving, you won't eat at all. That's my rule." Her tone made it clear she wasn't joking.
James didn't have any money to buy food, so he had no choice. Every morning, he woke up early to clean, mop, and cook just to earn his breakfast.
He hopped onto his bike and rode off, checking the time anxiously. But as he reached the main road, the engine sputtered and died. His heart sank. He didn't have enough money for public transport—not even a cheap cab.
He spent the next several minutes struggling to repair it with his limited tools. By the time the bike finally roared back to life, he was already an hour behind schedule. Still, he pressed on, hoping for understanding when he arrived.
When James finally reached his workplace, a colleague told him the boss wanted to see him.
He walked to the office and knocked gently before opening the door. "Good morning, sir," he greeted, trying to keep his voice calm.
"What's good about it?" his boss snapped. "Why are you just arriving?"
"My bike broke down on the way, sir. It developed a mechanical issue," James explained, hoping for sympathy.
"Are you serious? And you couldn't get a cab? You think that's a valid excuse?" the boss shouted, his face contorted with rage. "You're fired!"
James froze. "Sir… at least pay me what you owe. That's three months' salary."
"Which salary?" his boss scoffed. "You're lucky I even let you work here this long. Call the police if you want—I'm not giving you a penny."
James clenched his fists. "You must be joking. How can you refuse to pay me after I worked for months?"
"I said get out of my office before I beat you up myself!" the boss roared.
James slammed his hand on the table in frustration. "I won't leave until I get what I've earned!"
Alarmed, the boss—whose name was Gift—grabbed her phone and called security. "I need five guards in my office now," she barked.
Moments later, the guards arrived one after another.
As the first guard entered and saw James yelling, he rushed at him. But James reacted quickly—he grabbed Gift and, in the struggle, shoved her. She stumbled and accidentally crashed into the charging guard, and both of them fell to the floor.