Chapter Twelve

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Adamma brushed a lock of hair back from her face, her fingers lifting her cup of tea to her lips while her eyes travelled absently to the pictures on the album that lay open before her on her laps. Her eyes fell on her mother's picture and the look of disinterest that had blanketed her face fled, to be replaced by a narrow-eyed stare on the page.

Poor woman, she thought to herself as she allowed herself to stroke the smooth surface of the page where her mother was frozen forever. It was at times like this, when she allowed herself to take a look into the past and moan about things which might have been, that she sprawled in total devastation and misery. She wished that her mother was there to share in her fame and fortune, and also be there to proffer advise to her on what to do about her tumultuous marriage to a man who did not care about her. Her mother would have known what to do to bring Obi firmly to heel and make him repent from his treatment of her.

Blinking back tears of pain and sorrow, Adamma allowed her mind to dwell on the events that had preceded the death of her parents. She knew that her parents had been barred from getting married to each other due to certain customs of their people, but they'd told her that they were going to rectify it, that nothing would halt them from getting married to each other. And then they'd set off for their home, to go and do something about the bar that kept them from being legally termed man and wife, but they'd never returned from that trip. At least they'd been happy with each other, she thought. The joy they had known in each other's company had blazed forth with such transparent honesty that Adamma could almost envy them. But that part of her history was dead to her, and she did not have the key to unlock the answers to the myriad of questions she had.

She sighed deeply to shake off the unwelcome memories that had assailed her senses, and then she laid down her cup of tea and walked into the room she'd designed as her study, intending to attend to more cheerful topics.

Switching on the laptop computer that occupied the tabletop, she reclined in her swivel chair while she let her eyes wander to the picture of her estranged husband that was on top of the table. She was sorry that she was giving him the cold shoulder, blocking whatever access he had to her, but she felt that it was a necessity that could not be ignored; at least not until she cleared her mind and decided on a new course of action to follow.

Damn, how she loathed him for his arrogance! When he'd approached her at the Hilton club and had wanted to devour her with his kisses so that she'd follow him home, she'd erroneously labored under the misapprehension that he would profess his love for her and then she'd forgive all his sins and they'd live happily ever after, but she'd been disappointed because all he wanted was to have her in his bed. And then she made her decision and went on a crusade that totally halted him from ever coming into whatever contact with her again. She'd burned all his notes, she'd never opened any of his emails, and she'd instructed her guards never to let him into her house. He had to become truly repentant and really desire her to come back before she'd ever give him the light of day again.

The computer booted on, and then she logged in to the Internet and entered into her email account with her password. Her eyes scanned the messages in her inbox, and she discovered that she had a new message. Clicking on the message, she waited while the server connected her to the message, and then she frowned as her eyes looked at the one word that popped up on the screen like an obscene monster.

Whore . . .

A lump of cold steel dropped into her bowels as the meaning of the word sank into her mind, and she was almost paralyzed as she stared at it. An unthinkable dread, an icy fear and unparalleled shock engulfed her mind as hot tears misted her vision. Who could have sent her such a horrible message? That was the question she swept around in her mind as she trembled at the memory the word evoked.

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