C8 The Interview

Five years later.

I had not seen Alexander Knight in five years.

Not since the day he threw divorce papers at me and told me our contract was over. Not since the day I walked out of his glass mansion in Eldoret with one suitcase and a broken heart.

He didn't know I was two weeks pregnant that day.

He didn't know now that he had a son.

"Mama, do I look okay?" Leo tugged at my hand. He was five years old now, with curly black hair and those same cold grey eyes I had tried so hard to forget. My secret son. My everything.

We were standing outside Braeburn International School in Nairobi. The most expensive kindergarten interview in the country. If Leo got in, his future was set. If not...

"You look perfect, baby," I whispered, kneeling down to fix his little blue tie. He looked so much like him. Every day it hurt and healed me at the same time.

"Are you nervous?" he asked me. He was so smart for five.

"A little. But as long as you're with me, I'm brave."

We walked into the reception. It was all marble and glass, just like Alexander's office. Rich parents everywhere. I felt small in my second-hand dress. I had spent all my writing money from Moboreader and NovelCat on Leo's school application fee. $200. That was our food for a month.

"Mrs. Amara?" The receptionist smiled politely. "For the 10 AM scholarship interview?"

"Yes. Sarah Amara and Leo Amara."

She checked her list, and her smile faded a little. "Oh. I'm sorry, the scholarship slot was... cancelled this morning. A donor took over. You can still interview for the full-paying slot — that's $10,000 per term."

$10,000. I felt my knees weaken. I didn't have $100 in my account.

"Cancelled? But I got a confirmation email yesterday—"

"I'm sorry. The board decided—"

And then the main double doors behind her opened, and the entire lobby went silent.

I knew that silence. I knew what it meant. It meant a king had entered.

Alexander Knight walked in.

He was not the same man I had left. He was harder. Colder. His black suit was perfect, his face was chiseled like stone, his grey eyes were dead. He was 32 now, and he looked like a man who owned half of Kenya. Which he did.

He was surrounded by assistants, lawyers, the school director herself bowing to him.

He was the new donor. He was the reason my scholarship was cancelled.

Our eyes met across the marble lobby.

For a second — just one second — his dead eyes flickered. Shock. Recognition. Pain. He stopped walking.

Leo, who was holding my hand, looked up at the tall man and frowned. "Mama, why is that man staring at us?"

Alexander's gaze dropped from me... to Leo.

To the little boy with his exact face. His exact eyes. His exact stubborn chin.

I saw his breath catch. I saw his lawyer whisper, "Mr. Knight? Are you okay?"

He ignored his lawyer. He took slow, deliberate steps towards us. Each step echoed.

Sarah, run, my brain screamed. Run!

But my legs wouldn't move.

He stopped one foot in front of us. He looked down at Leo. Leo looked up at him, not scared, curious.

"What's your name, little man?" Alexander asked, his voice low. That voice I had heard in my dreams for five years.

Leo puffed out his chest. "I'm Leo Amara. I'm five. Who are you?"

"Leo..." Alexander repeated, and his voice broke. "How old did you say you were? Five?"

"Five and two months!" Leo said proudly. "Mama says I'm very big!"

Five years and two months. That was exactly... exactly nine months after our anniversary night. After the contract was broken.

Alexander's eyes shot to mine. They were no longer dead. They were burning. Angry. Hurt. Accusing.

"Sarah," he said, just my name, but it felt like a storm.

I grabbed Leo's hand tighter. "Alexander."

The school director rushed over, beaming. "Mr. Knight! Perfect timing! This is one of our scholarship applicants, Ms. Sarah Amara and her son—"

"Her son?" Alexander cut her off, never looking away from me. "What is his second name?"

I swallowed. "Amara. Leo Amara. Like me."

"Amara," he said. "Not Knight?"

Leo looked confused. "Mama, what's happening? Do you know this man?"

Before I could answer, Alexander knelt down. He knelt down in his $5,000 suit on the dirty lobby floor so he was eye level with my son. With OUR son.

"Do you have a dad, Leo?" he asked softly.

Leo's face fell. "No. Mama says my dad went to heaven. But I think she is lying. I think my dad just didn't want us."

My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Leo had never said that before.

I started crying, right there in the lobby. Five years of holding it together broke.

Alexander looked up at me from the floor, still kneeling, and his eyes were full of tears too. But his voice was ice.

"You told my son I was dead?" he whispered, so only I could hear. "You told him I didn't want him? Sarah, how could you? How COULD YOU hide my child from me for five years?"

"I didn't— I thought— You divorced me! You said you never wanted a family!"

"I said I never wanted a family with YOU?" he laughed, a terrible, broken laugh. "Sarah, you were my wife! You were my contract, yes, but you were—"

He didn't finish. Because Leo, who had been watching us with big eyes, suddenly reached out and touched Alexander's face with his small hand.

"You have eyes like me," Leo whispered. "Are you... are you my dad?"

The entire lobby was watching. Phones were out, recording. The richest man in Kenya kneeling in front of a poor woman and her child.

Alexander didn't answer Leo. He stood up slowly, picked up Leo in his arms — my son, who never let strangers touch him, who went willingly into the arms of his father — and looked at me with a look that promised both heaven and hell.

"Sarah Amara," he said loudly, so the whole school could hear. "You have 24 hours to pack your things and come back to my mansion. With my son. Or I will file for full custody tomorrow morning. And I promise you, I have enough lawyers to take him away from you forever."

He turned and walked away, carrying my son towards the exit, towards his black Bentley.

Leo was not crying. He was looking at me over Alexander's shoulder, confused.

"Mama? Are we going with him?"

I had two choices. Let him take my son and follow, or cause a scene and lose everything.

I ran after them, my second-hand shoes echoing on the marble, as the receptionist shouted, "Ma'am, your interview—!"

The interview was over. My new life was just beginning. And I had just realized the most terrible truth of all —

I was still in love with my ex-husband.

And he now knew I had stolen the most precious thing from him.

What would he do to me now that he had all the power again?