Sammie scrubbed his hands thoroughly, ensuring every trace of blood was gone. Satisfied, he reached for a towel and dried them. As he glanced up, his reflection in the mirror caught sight of his father entering the room. Their eyes met.
Dr. George approached the sink, washing his hands with a proud smile. "You did well out there," he said. "That was some fine work on the mother's stitches—precise, professional. I'm proud of you."
Sammie's jaw tightened. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice taut. "But knowing she was a sickle cell patient kept me on edge. The whole time, I kept thinking… what if she didn't make it?"
George let out a small sigh of relief. "You handled it like a pro, son. No one would've guessed you were nervous. You remind me of myself."
Sammie turned sharply. "Proud of me? Of course, you are. I do exactly what you want, even when it wrecks my personal life."
George rolled his eyes. "I secured two prime properties in Canary Wharf thanks to the Famine family. You think I'd just toss their daughter aside? If you were in my position, you'd do the same."
Sammie scoffed. "Would you trade a person for a business deal? My soul? My life?"
Before George could respond, a nurse burst in. "Doctor, there's a situation outside. Someone's demanding to see you."
They hurried out to find Sydney, his face twisted with fury, struggling against the security guards. His eyes burned with unshed tears.
"My sister gave you everything—her love, her trust," he spat. "And you threw it all away! You're nothing but a heartless bastard. I swear, you'll pay for this."
Sammie refused to meet his gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Sydney let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, you don't? You think money changes who you are? We all remember how your pathetic family used to beg for food in Tower Hamlets Square. Now that your luck's turned, you think you can treat my sister like trash?" His voice shook with rage. "You'll regret this—your whole family will."
With a final string of curses, Sydney stormed off. Sammie's legs wobbled beneath him, but his father grabbed his arm, steadying him.
"Don't let him make you feel guilty. You did nothing wrong."
Sammie yanked his arm free, storming back into the hospital without another word.
***
Paula Famine stabbed her fork into a chip, irritation evident in every bite. "That lunatic could've actually hit Sammie. And what kind of hospital allows threats like that without calling the police?"
Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Paula, can we just eat? You've been ranting all night. It's not like Sammie would be this shaken if it were you."
The family dug into their mother's chips—fried with eggs, carrying a distinct flavour borrowed from their Kenyan neighbours. Even McDonald's couldn't compare.
Mr. Henry, barely touching his food, cleared his throat. "I heard you changed your wedding dress."
Paula exhaled sharply. "Mum insisted on a replica of Queen Elizabeth's gown."
Henry frowned. "Oh…"
Vanessa leaned forward. "It's bad enough we have to carry Mum's surname instead of yours. Now you let her override your choice without even consulting Dad? He's the head of this house!"
Melissa, irritated, tapped Vanessa's head with her fork. "You've got the nerve to call someone disrespectful? Take a look in the mirror."
Paula slammed her fork onto her plate. "Can we focus on the real issue here? Sammie was humiliated today, and you're all obsessing over my dress?"
Henry took a sip of coffee, his voice calm but firm. "Paula, just make sure Sammie truly loves you before you go through with this wedding. I only stayed in this marriage with your mother because I love her. Love may not fix everything, but it matters."
Paula scoffed. "Why does everyone keep questioning Sammie's love for me?"
Her family exchanged glances before answering in unison.
"Because you're blind to it."
***
Sophia barely stepped into the house before spotting her mother watching a film. Without hesitation, she confronted her.
"Mother, why do you keep postponing your surgery? I work myself to the bone so you can walk again, and this is how you repay me?"
Mrs. Jones blinked back tears. "Sophia, I can't justify spending that kind of money when I'm not even seventy percent sure I'll survive the procedure."
Sophia clenched her fists. "You have to do it! You're the only reason I keep pushing forward!"
"I'll do it when the time is right."
"The right time is now, Mother!"
Mrs. Jones sighed and wheeled herself toward her room, returning moments later with what looked like a pair of swim goggles. "This device helps detect sniper rifles. With your position as a bodyguard, you need it."
Sophia's eyes widened. "How on earth did you get this?"
"I used it back when I was still active," Mrs. Jones said softly, nostalgia creeping into her voice.
Sophia exhaled sharply. "You've never told me what you used to do. How did we have enough money for my private school, yet I struggled through university?"
Her mother pulled her into a tight embrace. "I know you're in a dangerous line of work, but please, promise me you'll always wear these whenever you step out."
Sophia kissed her forehead. "I promise, Mother."
Mrs. Jones smiled. "Are you staying over? I want to make your favourite hamburgers."
Sophia grinned. "Where are the boys?"
"At the sports centre."
They rushed to the kitchen, laughter filling the air as they prepared the meal together.
***
After church with Catarina, Sophia dressed quickly and made her way to the towering building—the same place where she'd had her first interview with Will Smith.
She took the elevator up, arriving at the boardroom only to be met with a shocking sight—nine bodyguards lay sprawled across the floor, groaning in pain. The only one still standing was Thomas.
Will Smith and his eldest son, Raymond, sat observing her reaction.
Will cleared his throat. "We were about to confirm Thomas as Raymond's personal bodyguard for the Manchester project. But now that you're here… let's see what you've got."
Sophia's gaze swept over the defeated guards. No doubt, Thomas had taken them all down before she arrived. There was no chance to analyse his weaknesses.
Her lips curled slightly. Fine. I'll just have to improvise.
She shrugged off her jacket, tying her hair into a knot. Every eye in the room was on her.
Thomas smirked, clearly underestimating her. He lunged, aiming to end the fight quickly. Sophia sidestepped with ease, letting him stumble forward.
Frustrated, he threw a heavy punch. She ducked, countering with a swift kick to his ribs. The solid impact left him momentarily stunned.
Raymond leaned forward, intrigued.
Thomas shook off the pain and launched into a flurry of attacks. Sophia dodged them all effortlessly, reading him like an open book. She struck low, destabilising his legs, and followed with a powerful spinning kick to his chest.
He crashed to the ground, gasping.
Silence filled the room.
Raymond's interest deepened as he observed her—she was different from any other candidate. She was strategic, controlled, unfazed.
As Thomas struggled to his feet, Sophia moved swiftly, locking him in a hold he couldn't escape. Within seconds, he was pinned.
Will Smith nodded, impressed.
Raymond clapped, his expression unreadable. "Looks like we've found our bodyguard."
Sophia bowed slightly, a knowing smile on her lips.
She had won. But she also knew—this was just the beginning.