But Mabel sensed the shift like a predator smelling change.
That evening, she returned home and marched into the kitchen, arms folded.
“So it’s true,” she hissed. “Jeff values you so much that he brought your mother here.”
Angela kept her voice polite. “Good evening, Ma.”
Mabel sneered. “Save it. Let me tell you what I found out. You and your mother used… juju on him.”
Angela turned slowly, face calm but dangerous.
“Madam,” she said, low and steady, “be careful.”
Mabel scoffed, but her eyes flickered with fear. “Or what?”
Angela leaned in, not touching her, but close enough that Mabel could feel the warning.
“If you lie about my mother again,” Angela said, “you will regret it.”
Mabel backed away quickly, her courage dissolving.
She fled the kitchen, whispering to herself that Angela was fire.
And in his room, Papa James chuckled softly like a man who had been praying for someone brave.
Then Jeff returned.
Unannounced.
His training ended early, but he told no one.
On the way from the airport, a friend called him with a whisper heavy enough to break glass.
“Jeff… I saw Mabel at a hotel with another man. They looked too close.”
Jeff didn’t argue. He didn’t ask for details.
He only said, “Send me the address.”
He parked outside the hotel and waited, heart beating like it was angry.
Minutes later, the door opened.
Mabel stepped out, laughing, fixing her hair.
A man followed, hand on her waist, comfortable like this was not their first time.
Mabel’s laughter died when she saw Jeff.
“Jeff,” she stammered, “baby, I can explain.”
Jeff didn’t shout.
He didn’t create a scene.
He stared at her with a calm so cold it felt like a final door closing.
Then he got into his car and drove away.
By the time Mabel reached the mansion, her bags were already outside the gate.
Jeff came out slowly, face calm.
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