Chapter 8: Not a Mere Collision
Frances arrived at her company in Macedonia, and the welcome was more than warm—it was overwhelming.
The staff, dressed in their finest, had lined up outside the glass-front building with excited smiles. Some clapped, some offered flowers, and others simply bowed in respect. The head of HR stepped forward with a bouquet of white lilies—Frances' favorite.
"Welcome, ma'am," he said with a wide smile. "We have been eagerly awaiting your presence."
Frances smiled, deeply touched. Her steps were calm and graceful, but every heel-click she made on the marble floor echoed power. This was hers—her empire. No matter what storms had tried to drown her, she had made it back.
"I hope everything has been handled well in my absence," she said as she entered the office that had been prepared for her, the glass door shutting gently behind her as her PA followed swiftly.
Bianca nodded. "Yes, ma'am. We've kept everything as you want it."
Frances looked around—same paintings, same view of the city skyline, same scent of lavender in the air, just like her office in Lichfield, England. But she had changed. And so had the air around her.
Meanwhile, at Raymond's office…
Joel entered the room without knocking. He knew better than to wait when it came to urgent matters.
"Boss," he said, standing tall in front of Raymond's desk. "She's back permanently. Confirmed. She's already at her company now."
Raymond didn't even look up. He was running his thumb along the edge of a sleek dagger on his table. Its silver gleam reflected the low lighting in the room.
"I know," Raymond said flatly.
Joel hesitated, then added, "Should I take a step? I can alert the troops. Maybe send her a message?"
That made Raymond look up. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no anger—just calculation.
"Inform the others. Let them know Frances is not to be touched… yet."
Joel nodded, tapping his phone before stepping out of the room.
Outside, he made the necessary calls to the other members of the Stafford mafia network. One message went out loud and clear:
Frances is back. Watch her. But don't touch.
Not unless Raymond says otherwise.
Elsewhere…
In a quieter part of Macedonia, Paris stood outside a modest townhouse, nervously wringing her fingers.
She hadn't told anyone yet—not even her younger brother—but she was planning to leave the country. The past had become too loud. Too close. She needed to escape before it swallowed her again.
She knocked, then opened the door with the spare key and stepped in.
The house was neat and smelled faintly of roasted coffee beans. Her brother wasn't home yet, but she wanted to wait. She needed to tell him face to face. She sat on the couch, legs bouncing, glancing at the clock every few minutes.
"Please come soon," she thought. "Before I lose my nerve."
Frances was driving herself home that evening. She needed the quiet. The steady rhythm of the road, the hum of the tires, the soft music playing through the speakers—everything felt like a balm after such a long day.
The sun had begun to set, casting a warm orange hue across the windshield.
She exhaled slowly.
Maybe everything will finally settle now.
Suddenly—
BANG!
Her car jolted violently. She slammed the brakes. Her seatbelt caught her in a sharp jerk, and her heart thundered in her chest.
The vehicle came to a screeching halt.
She blinked, dazed, trying to process what had just happened. Smoke hissed faintly from the front of her car.
"What the hell…"
She quickly unbuckled and stepped out.
As she stepped out, what she saw was so frightening that she jolted back suddenly, just to steady herself. But the next thing that came to her was even more shocking.
Her breath caught.
She froze.
It was a little boy, not more than three years old. His face looked pale as he struggled to get up from the ground.
Frances quickly rushed to him to help him up.
"Where's your mother?" she asked as she lifted his fallen bicycle.
"Mama went to work, so I came out here to play."
"Alright. Are you hurt in any way?" She knelt and checked his body.
"No, ma. You stopped on time."
Indeed, the boy had been shocked when he saw her car about to hit him. The car was tall, and the little boy could not be seen easily by Frances.
"But you are too young to play outside on your own. If your mama goes to work, you should stay indoors and wait for her to return," Frances scolded him as if he were her child.
He reminded her of her lovely son in Lichfield. She knew he must have missed her too.
"And why aren't you at school? Children like you should be studying even after class," she said, looking at him fondly.
"No," the little boy shook his head.
"What?"
"Mama said there is no money, but she promised she would do it for me." He smiled proudly.
"Give me your mama's contact. I'll take you home," she said.
She lifted the cute boy into her car and placed his bicycle in the boot.
Frances took him home and promised to call his mother as soon as she was free.
"Momma!"
A cute little boy jumped in excitement as he saw his mother on the screen.
"My love, how are you doing?" Frances' smile blossomed.
"I miss you so much, muah." Luce kissed the screen.
"And mummy misses you so much. Do you believe?" she asked excitedly.
"Yes, yes, yes!" He jumped again in joy.
"I want to come and meet Momma. Is Uncle Nicole bringing me tomorrow? Will I see you?" he asked eagerly.
Her son would be three years old soon, and she wanted to celebrate with him. But she never wanted him in Macedonia anytime soon.
"No, Luce. Momma will always come to see you, so don't worry. I'll come with lots of goodies for my baby," she said, smiling.
"Really?" Luce exclaimed.
"Yes."
"I'll wait then. Rest well, Momma," he said, waving.
"What an obedient child you are. Sweet dreams, baby," she replied, waving back before ending the call.
Frances breathed a long sigh.
It felt like she could not erase the past from her mind.
Then, that night came back to her—the night before Raymond had proposed the marriage contract.
That night, she was resting in bed after dinner with him and his elder sister.
Suddenly, the door opened.
At first, she thought it was someone else.
But when the person came closer, she saw it was Raymond.
He was drunk.
Or was he hypnotized?
After dinner, she had heard from his assistant, Sky, that they would attend an event. She had overheard it while passing his study.
"You've got a silky, clean body… why am I drawn to you?" Raymond said as he pulled off his clothes.
It was as if he wasn't in his right senses.
"No, stop. What are you doing?" she cried, trying to run away.
He grabbed her.
"I've never felt aroused with a woman before. Just bear with me tonight. I'll pay you," he said.
"No, Mr. Stafford. Stop, please. This isn't what you promised me!" she yelled.
Fear gripped her tightly.
She felt lost.
Helpless.
Raymond pushed her onto the bed. His hot breath spread over her face. He pulled her lips to his and captured them.
The room was soundproof. The maids had gone to rest.
No one heard her.
Frances gave up pleading. She was enveloped by his presence and sank into his embrace.
The night passed quickly.
Morning came.
She woke up to an empty bed.
"Where has he gone?" she whispered. "Does he even remember what he did to me?"