Keifer's POV
Warehouse showdown reeked of rust and deceit — Angelo's lawyers in shadows, bodycams rolling. Mama dissolved in hysterics, Curtis preened smug, Kaizer spidered in the corner, eyes predatory. Tension crackled like live wire.
"You've ruined everything!" Jay-Jay detonated, voice echoing off concrete. "Fake dad, threats, lies — for what? Curtis Enterprises scraps?" Curtis leaned back, smirking: "Sign over shares, play nice. Or Kaizer drops your 'truths.'"
Kaizer slunk forward: "Hospital nights, queen. I pulled you from flatline. He watched." Fabricated filth — I'd held her hand through every code blue. Rage surged; fist slammed a crate, splinters flying. Security stiffened, Angelo's hand on my shoulder: "Evidence first."
Jay-Jay rose, unyielding: "Truth outs. Cameras caught your forgeries, Kaizer's flights, Mama's hacks. Courts wait." She flung the forged files at their feet. Mama wailed collapse, Curtis blustered, Kaizer vanished into gloom.
We extracted clean — cops swarmed post-recording. Victory tasted ash. Fractures spiderwebbed: Serina's calls cooled ("Need space, anak"), Aunty Gemma's texts doubted ("Blood ties matter?"). Section E frayed — Felix brooding, Calix distant, Rakki exhausted.
Ring weighed heavy in my pocket, proposal dust. Jay-Jay leaned into me on the drive home, drained. "We survive this too."
Drama crested. Bonds bent, not snapped.
Not yet.