Mabel sat in the familiar confines of Roseville restaurant, her senses enveloped by the rich aromas of diverse dishes and the cheerful sounds of laughter mingling together. The vibrant atmosphere brought forth a wave of nostalgia, as she couldn't help but recall the last time she had shared this space with Ben. It had been an unexpected encounter at the supermarket just across the street, where the hustle and bustle of grocery shopping had momentarily faded into the background.

She vividly remembered how Ben, eager and a bit nervous, had approached her with a question that revealed his genuine interest in her friend Shelley. "Why is Shelley so wary of men?" he had inquired, the curiosity evident in his eyes. It was during that very moment that Mabel realized he was drawn to Shelley, despite her friend's icy demeanour toward him. With a mix of reluctance and responsibility, Mabel found herself sharing a fragment of Shelley's past, a secret that weighed heavily on her heart. She felt uncomfortable divulging even that small detail, carefully omitting the more painful aspects of the story that were not hers to tell. In doing so, she was acutely aware that she was breaking a promise made to Shelley—a promise to protect her friend’s history. Even now, that secret remained safely tucked away, and Mabel intended to keep it that way.

As she nestled into the well-worn booth by the window—the same spot where they had shared that fateful conversation—she felt a twinge of apprehension. Today, she was waiting for Mr Ben Adam, a rendezvous she had arranged under the pretence of needing legal advice, as she had promised Shelley. When she had called Ben, a hint of worry had crept into his voice. “What’s this about?” he had asked cautiously. Mabel had begged him to meet in person first, insisting that it would be easier to explain over a cup of coffee rather than over the phone.

With a chilled Alvaro drink lingering on her lips, she focused her thoughts on how to frame the conversation that lay ahead. Just then, the sound of footsteps broke her concentration. Ben arrived, breathless and slightly dishevelled, as he slid into the chair across from her.

“I’m so sorry for being late,” he said, running a hand through his hair, which fell out of place. “I had to drop someone home before making my way here.” His smile, warm and genuine, momentarily eased her nerves, even as uncertainty about the conversation's direction loomed ahead.

***

Sarah stood in the middle of her elegantly decorated living room, the soft glow of the chandelier casting a warm light on her silk, sparkling black dress. The fabric hugged her figure perfectly and featured a daring high slit that added a touch of drama to her appearance. She paced back and forth, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished hardwood floor, clearly anxious. Just a few minutes prior, she had received a call from one of the country’s most prominent fashion designers, inviting her to a lavish party he was hosting to celebrate his 20th year in the fashion industry.

This invitation felt like a serendipitous stroke of luck for Sarah. For years, she had tried to gain a foothold in the fashion world, especially dreaming of a chance to meet this designer and showcase her unique boutique. The potential to pitch her ideas and perhaps even secure a collaboration with someone of his caliber was an opportunity she dared to dream about. However, there was a hitch that overshadowed the excitement of the moment. This exclusive event required attendees to bring a male partner, a stipulation that left Sarah feeling both frustrated and desperate—she didn’t have a date.

As she pondered her predicament, a light bulb flickered in her mind. She grabbed her phone, her heart racing with the urgency of the situation, and dialled the first number that came to mind. The phone rang several times, each beep amplifying her anxiety until it went to voicemail. Determined, she tried again, her thoughts racing through potential alternatives as she waited. Just as she was about to give up hope, she heard a voice on the other end.

"Hello!" a male voice greeted her, accompanied by a yawn that hinted at an interrupted nap.

"David!" she exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. "Thank God you picked up. Listen, I know this is a big ask, especially on such short notice, but I really have no one else to turn to."

She took a deep breath, hoping that he would understand the gravity of her request. "Would you be willing to be my plus one at this fashion party I'm invited to? It’s a significant event, and I can’t afford to miss it. My whole business hinges on making a good impression there."

Silence loomed on the line as she held her breath, fingers crossed, waiting for David’s response.

"Sure... but I have to warn you," he finally replied, his tone casual but tinged with reluctance, "I don’t own any black tie or tuxedo for fancy events like the ones you get invited to."

Relief washed over Sarah; his initial acceptance was a hopeful sign. "That won't be a problem at all, David. Just send me your address, and I’ll have someone deliver a tuxedo to you right away."

"Okay! Sending it now… and sent!"

A notification pinged on Sarah's phone, confirming the arrival of the address. "Got it. Your tuxedo is on its way," she replied, her excitement building momentum. "Oh, and David, please be ready by 4 PM because I’ll be picking you up."

"What?! That gives me only 20 minutes to get ready!" he protested, the disbelief evident in his voice. Just then, the call dropped, leaving his final complaint hanging in the air as Sarah couldn’t help but smile. The chaos of the evening was just beginning, but she felt invigorated—this could be the opportunity she had been waiting for.

                               _

Ben signalled for the waiter to come over, a subtle wave of his hand drawing the server's attention.

“You called, sir?” the waiter approached with a polite nod.

“Yes, I did. I’ll have what she’s having,” Ben replied, glancing at Mabel’s drink.

“Of course. Coming right up, sir,” the waiter said before retreating.

Once the waiter had left, Ben turned his focus to Mabel. There was an intensity in the air, a charged moment as he regarded her.

“Mabel, you requested an audience with me,” he began, his voice even but curious. “I’d like to understand what kind of legal issues have you gotten yourself into.”

Mabel leaned back slightly, her expression serious. “Before we start, I want to make it clear: I didn’t go looking for trouble. It finds me instead,” she said with a hint of weariness.

Ben raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her proclamation. “Well, I am all ears. Please, go ahead.”

With a cautious glance around the bustling restaurant, Mabel leaned forward, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’ve already met my son, James,” she stated, and Ben nodded in recognition.

“Just recently, I had a run-in with his father, Frederick, at my workplace. He showed up with his wife, who, by the way, has been unable to conceive for the past six years despite all their efforts.”

A darkened shadow crossed Mabel's face. “For the last five years since I had James, Frederick never once reached out to me. Not once. He knew I was pregnant, he knew about James, and yet he completely abandoned us. He provided no support, no acknowledgement of his son’s existence.”

Mabel paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “Then, just yesterday, out of the blue, he ambushed me at work, demanding rights to James. He thinks he can just waltz in and claim him after all these years. I can’t let that happen. I don’t want him anywhere near my son. We don’t need his help now. That’s why I called you. I need to know if there’s any way to ensure he doesn’t gain custody of James if he attempts to and if you could recommend a formidable lawyer who can help me secure my rights as a mother.”

As silence enveloped the table, the waiter returned to drop off their drinks, interrupting the tension. Once he left, Ben took a thoughtful sip of his drink before speaking again.

“I need the name of James’ father and any connections he might have,” Ben said, his tone shifting to one of determination.

“His name is Frederick Kelvin Arthur,” Mabel replied, her voice low yet firm.

Ben’s eyes widened in realization. “You mean THE Frederick Kelvin Arthur, the prominent businessman married to the philanthropist Matilda Arthur?” Mabel nodded her expression a mix of concern and frustration.

“Wow,” Ben exclaimed, a dramatic whistle escaping his lips. “This escalates your case to an entirely different level. You must tell me everything about the history between you two, from the very beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”

Mabel let out a heavy sigh, the weight of her experiences evident in her eyes. “Then I suggest we order something much stronger than this,” she said, gesturing toward her drink, ready to delve into the complex web of her past.

                                _

A/N: Hey everyone! I just have to share this little quirk of mine: whenever my mind bubbles over with ideas, I can't help but jot them down. Once I’ve crafted a full chapter, it’s like holding a beach ball underwater – I find it nearly impossible to keep it to myself for even a few days before sharing it with you all. This ongoing battle with my impatience has pushed me to release this new chapter today, even though I just published one yesterday! I hope you'll enjoy what I've come up with and that it lives up to your expectations. Dive in and happy reading!