“Who was that?” Obina asked as they drove off.
Mirabel hissed again.
“Nobody,” she said, her tone final.
When they finally arrived at the mansion, Mirabel was stunned by how huge and grand it looked. Bodyguards were stationed everywhere, and she said to herself:
“So this is what that stupid girl would have been enjoying. Thank God I was smart enough. This is my last bus stop.”
As she walked in with Obina, maids were already lined up to welcome them.
While they were in the dining room with Pa James, Obina’s father, he sensed the false energy coming from Mirabel. He watched her closely as she ate, trying hard to act posh, though it was obvious she was forcing it.
“Welcome, Amanda,” Pa James said with a polite smile.
“Thank you, sir,” Mirabel replied with a bright grin. “Thank you, sir.”
“So, my son told me how he met you,” Pa James continued. “Is there anything you would like us to give you as a gift?”
Mirabel’s heart leaped.
Ah, this is billionaire style.
Her greed flared instantly.
“I would love a Hermès Birkin,” she said quickly. “And a Chanel handbag as well, with matching shoes.”
She went on and on, adding how she wanted to go to Dubai for her next holiday.
Pa James stared at her calmly, the way he always did when something displeased him.
She is not fit for my son, he thought. She is a pretender and a gold digger.
Obina felt uncomfortable. Yet this was the same woman who had chatted with him deep into the night, making him laugh and giggle the way his mother used to, and he loved her.
Later that night, Pa James called Obina for a private meeting.
“She is not fit to be your wife,” he said bluntly.
Obina sighed.
