Chapter 56 NO ONE MESSES WITH MY CHILDREN

Chapter 56 NO ONE MESSES WITH MY CHILDREN
Althea’s POV

If there is one thing you should never underestimate, it’s a rich American mother with connections.

Especially when that mother is Isabella.

And especially when you mess with her future son-in-law.

Rowan waited until I unlocked my apartment door before driving off last night, I watched his car disappear down the street, then stepped inside, my head spinning.

The silence in my apartment felt loud.

I dropped my bag on the couch and just stood there.

What he told me tonight? It wasn’t gossip. It wasn’t drama.

It was murder dressed up as coincidence.

My hands were shaking when I picked up my phone.

I called my mom.

She answered on the second ring.

“Althea? Why are you calling this late?”

“Mom,” I said, pacing. “I need you to listen carefully.”

There was a pause. The serious kind.

“What happened?”

“It’s JC,” I said. “She didn’t just ruin a wedding. She killed Rowan’s father.”

Silence.

The air on the other end shifted.

“Explain,” she said calmly.

So I did. The fake house fire. The hospital visit. The ventilator. The forged signature. The rushed burial. The new identity.

By the time I finished, my chest felt tight.

“Are you certain?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And she is still doing business in this city?”

“Yes.”

Another pause.

Then her voice changed.

Cool. Controlled.

“Go inside. Lock your doors. I will handle it.”

“Mom—”

“No one plays with my children,” she said quietly. “And no one walks free after that.”

The call ended.

I stared at my phone.

Something told me tomorrow would not be normal.

And I was right.

I didn’t even know what was about to happen that morning. I just knew I woke up feeling lighter.

Not because everything was okay.

But because the truth was finally out.

Rowan had told me everything the night before. About JC. About his dad. About the fake house fire. About the hospital. About the plug being pulled. About the betrayal. About the humiliation at the altar.

I barely slept.

Not because I doubted him.

But because I was trying to process how someone could be that wicked.

Like… how do you plan something like that and still sleep at night?

I was in the living room, scrolling through my phone absentmindedly, when my mom walked in.

Isabella.

Dressed like she was going to a board meeting with destiny itself.

Her makeup was soft but sharp. Her perfume filled the room. Her heels? Deadly.

She looked at me once.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

She nodded.

Then she said something that made me sit up straight.

“Good. Because today, we end this.”

I blinked. “End what?”

She gave me that look.

The one that says, you’re still young, let mummy handle it.

“Jane.”

She never called her JC.

She always called her Jane.

And the way she said it? Like it tasted bitter in her mouth.

By 10:00 AM, I finally understood what she meant.
My mom doesn’t fight. She erases.
She started with a phone call. Then another. Then another. She went down the list: florists, caterers, event planners, venue owners, photographers, makeup artists, decorators, and banks. She even called the owner of the luxury apartment complex where JC’s office was located.
I was sitting across from her in the dining room, just watching. She wasn’t yelling or being emotional—she was calm. And honestly? That calm is what scared me the most.
“Good morning, Mrs. Adeyemi,” she said sweetly into the phone. “Yes, I’m calling about Jane’s upcoming contracts.”
There was a pause.
“I’m afraid you may want to reconsider doing business with her,” she continued. Another pause. “She is a financial liability... and there are criminal matters involved.”
Her voice was smooth, controlled, and polite—but lethal. She didn’t even need to explain the details. In our city, Isabella’s word is law.
By the afternoon, the fallout began. JC’s calls stopped being returned. Two vendors canceled their contracts immediately. One venue withdrew. A caterer demanded full upfront payment before they’d even move a finger. Then, the biggest hit: her office lease was terminated. Just like that. Apparently, the building owner “re-evaluated risk exposure.”
Translation: My mother made a call.
By evening, word on the street was that her luxury car was being repossessed. Something about the bank “reviewing her credit structure.” I didn’t ask how. I didn’t want to know.
Theo called me, whispering dramatically. “Bestie, what did your mother DO?”
I tried not to smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie! The entire city is shaking. JC’s name is trending in business circles, and people are calling her a straight-up scam.”
I swallowed. A small part of me felt satisfied, but another part felt uncomfortable. “Is it too much?” I asked quietly.
Theo paused before saying something that stuck with me. “Babe. She tried to end Rowan’s father’s life and framed it. This isn't just 'small beef.' This is a full-on villain origin story.”
He wasn’t wrong.
By nightfall, the mission was complete. JC was officially blacklisted—not with loud drama, but in that silent, powerful way only elite circles understand. It’s the kind of exile where the calls stop, the doors close quietly, and your name becomes a warning.
Rowan came over that evening looking totally confused. “What happened today?”
I shrugged lightly. “My mom made some calls.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Oh.” He sat beside me on the couch. “Althea… I didn’t ask for this. She deserves consequences, but this…”
“This is my mother protecting her own,” I replied.
He looked at me for a long time before pulling me closer. “I don’t like revenge,” he murmured, “but I won’t lie… I don’t feel bad.”
I rested my head on his chest as silence settled between us. It wasn't heavy; it was just thoughtful.
Later that night, I got a text from an unknown number:
You think you’ve won? This isn’t over.

I stared at the screen. There was no name, but I knew. Jane. JC. Whoever she was pretending to be today. My heart didn't race and I didn't panic. Instead, I felt steady. For the first time, I wasn't scared of her. She wasn't operating in the shadows anymore—everyone knew the truth.
I showed Rowan the message. His jaw tightened. “She won’t touch you,” he said firmly.
“I’m not scared,” I replied. And I meant it.
Villains thrive in secrecy and manipulation, but once the light hits them, they shrink. JC wanted power, status, and to marry into influence. Instead, she became a cautionary tale.
Before bed, my mom knocked on my door. She rarely does that; usually, she just walks in.
“Are you okay?” she asked, studying my face. “You must understand something, Althea. When someone tries to destroy your family, you don’t simply forgive and move on. You make sure they can never try again.”
Her voice wasn’t angry; it was protective. “I didn’t destroy her,” she continued. “I simply removed her access.”
That was cold, but true. She didn’t lie or fabricate crimes—she just revealed the truth. In our society, reputation is currency. Once that currency crashes, it’s game over.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
She softened slightly. “No one plays with my child.” Then she left.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, realizing that love isn’t just cute dates and soft kisses. Sometimes love is messy and reveals ugly truths.
Rowan had carried the weight of his father's death alone for years while JC walked around freely, rebranding herself and building a career like nothing happened. That kind of evil confidence is terrifying. But now? She had no stage, no audience, and no backing. Just silence—and silence is loud.
The next morning, the social circles were buzzing with rumors: “She’s unreliable.” “She’s dangerous.” “She forged documents.” My mom didn't start the rumors; she didn't need to. Once doubt is planted, people finish the story themselves.
I didn't feel guilty. She wasn't a victim. She orchestrated the death of a man in a coma all for an obsession. That’s not romance; it’s psychotic.
Rowan called me that afternoon. “Jane left the city. She packed up, cleared out the office, and left no forwarding address.”
I went quiet. Just like that?
“She won’t stay where she has no power,” he added.
I looked out the window at the clear, calm sky. “Do you think this is over?”
Rowan paused. “I hope so.”
His voice didn't sound convinced, and neither was I. Villains don't always disappear—sometimes they just retreat and come back smarter. I wrapped my arms around myself. For now, we won. For now, my family was safe.
But something deep inside whispered: this story isn’t finished yet.
And I knew it, because this wedding might be my worst nightmare