Part-263

  "You know," Toya said after a while, breaking the silehis thing we’re doing, pretending to be a couple… it’s not going to get easier."

  James nodded, his eyes sing the darkereets ahead. "I know."

  "But at least now," she tinued, gng at him, "I know I t on you."

  Her words hung in the air, simple yet carrying a weight that James hadn’t expected. He g her, seeing a different side of Toya in that moment. For all her strength, she was still human, still vulnerable in ways he hadn’t fully uood until now.

  James squeezed her hand slightly, a silent promise that, fake retionship or not, he had her back.

  "Let’s just make it through this together," he said quietly, and Toya nodded in agreement.

  Together, they disappeared into the night, leaving the chaos of the mall behind them—but knowing full well that the real battle was still ahead.

  Rakib leaned against the gss railing of the mall's upper level, watg the se unfold below him. From his vantage point, he could see everything—the chaos, the brief skirmish, and most importantly, James. The way James had effortlessly dispatched the gang of hoodlums, like they were nothing more than flies to be swatted away, left Rakib simmering in silent fury. He ched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he watched James calmly grab Toya’s hand and lead her away from the se.

  James had been nothing short of spectacur in the fight, moving with a grad precision that Rakib had rarely seen. It was as if he had stepped straight out of some aovie, and the sheer ease with which he hahe situatio a bitter taste in Rakib’s mouth. He despised people like James—strong, posed, and petent. People who had the o stand up to him.

  As Rakib watched them leave, hand in hand, his expression darkened even further. A twisted smirk formed on his lips, though his eyes reflected nothing but anger. He khe dispy wasn’t for anyone else—it was for him. James and Toya were putting on a show, making sure Rakib saw them together, hand in hand, rubbing salt into his already wounded pride.

  “Pathetic,” Rakib muttered under his breath. But deep down, it stung more than he cared to admit.

  Without an the chaos below, Rakib turned and walked briskly down the hallway. His destination rivate room led within the mall—a room that beloo his father, Yacob. After all, Yacob owhe entire mall, and Rakib himself was its director, a position that granted him access to certain… privileges. The title, however, felt more like an oral o was his father who truly held the reins of power. Yet, Rakib knew how to use his position for his own purposes.

  As he reached the private suite, Rakib pushed the door open, stepping into the sleek, dimly lit space. The room exuded wealth, with leather seating, fine paintings, and a polished oak desk that domihe ter. It was one of the many symbols of his father’s influence. Rakib colpsed into a chair, rubbing his temple in frustration, trying to shake off the sting of humiliation from earlier.