Melissa stood at the edge of the 26th floor, her reflection merging with the skyline outside the glass walls of Botho Global Holdings. The city pulsed below like a living thing cars, money, secrets. And she was about to bend it all in her favor.
She wasn't Naledi, the scared girl abandoned with a baby on the way.
She was Melissa Kgomotso, reborn, upgraded, and armed with the one weapon no man ever saw coming:
Herself.
MAX BOTHO'S OFFICE
Max looked up from a mountain of paperwork, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly when she stepped in. He wasn't used to anyone storming his domain like they belonged there.
But she did.
In a tight, sculpted blazer that hugged her bump like armor, Melissa walked in like a queen in heels. Her hair was in a high puff, face beat to perfection, lips lined in fire.
Max stood, ever the gentleman billionaire with a storm in his gaze.
"You're early."
"I'm never late," she replied. "Especially not when power's in the room."
Max gestured to the leather chair opposite him. "Have a seat."
Melissa sat but not like a guest. She leaned back like she owned the damn chair.
"Let's be honest," she said, opening her Prada folder. "You think I'm just some girl you knocked up after too much whiskey. But this baby? It's your future. And I'm not walking away with just a check."
Max raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you want?"
Melissa slid a single page across the table. Max picked it up, read, then let out a slow, dangerous laugh.
"Fifteen percent? Of Botho Global?" he said. "Are you insane?"
"No," Melissa said. "I'm finally awake."
He dropped the paper on the desk. "You think being pregnant with my child gives you power?"
"I think carrying your heir makes me a shareholder," she countered. "And if you don't want me holding a press conference tomorrow about how this company was built on broken promises, I suggest we talk civilly."
Max stepped around the desk, stopping directly in front of her. She rose to meet him. Eye to eye. Heart to heart.
"Who are you?" he whispered. "You weren't like this before."
"I died," she said. "Then I woke up. Better."
He stared at her, jaw clenched, jawline sharp as a blade. And then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed her.
Fierce. Possessive. A kiss that tasted like fury, confusion, and undeniable hunger.
She kissed him back. Her hands threaded through his hair, her body melting into his until she pulled away first.
"Consider that a teaser," she whispered. "Next time, you'll have to earn it."
LATER MELISSA'S APARTMENT
The air smelled like lavender and quiet ambition. Melissa sat cross-legged on her couch, laptop open, mapping out her rise.
If Max wanted to control her, he'd need more than a DNA test and deep pockets. She was building her own brand:
"Boss Bump": A line of maternity wear for women who refuse to shrink.
"Pregnant, Petty & Paid": Her new podcast.
Sponsorships. Influencer deals. A book deal in progress.
She was going to turn motherhood into a market.
And Max? He'd either invest… or regret it.
Her phone buzzed. Unknown Number: We need to talk. Privately!
She smirked.
"Let the games begin."
SOMEWHERE IN THE DARK
Avery Khumo sipped a neat cognac while reviewing surveillance photos. Melissa entering Max's office. Max watching her leave with his tie loosened and his control unraveled.
"She's a problem," Avery said to his assistant. "A very attractive, very disruptive problem."
"Should we dig up dirt?"
"No," he replied. "Let's wait. Let her rise. Then we tear her down. Publicly."
His lips curled into a smile.
"Or better yet… make her choose. Loyalty to Max? Or power with me?"
NEXT DAY , BOTHO GLOBAL CAFETERIA
Melissa walked in like a headline in motion.
All white. All power. Her bump a statement, not a weakness. She grabbed a smoothie and claimed a table in the middle of the room. The whispers began.
"She's the one."
"Max's… thing."
"Pregnant and proud. Bold."
Then came Keitumetse ex-friend, serial social climber, dressed in envy and designer knock-offs.
"Well, well," Keitumetse said, sliding into a chair uninvited. "You really think this little baby stunt makes you royalty?"
Melissa didn't even blink. "I don't need a crown, darling. I birth kings."
Laughter from a nearby table.
Keitumetse's jaw ticked. "Max will never make you one of us."
Melissa stood up slowly, towering. "I'm not trying to be one of you. I'm creating a whole new table. And trust me you're not invited."
The room buzzed. Cameras clicked. Someone updated their gossip blog in real time.
Melissa walked away, head high, heart racing.
She was getting used to this.
The fire. The fight. The fame.
Max watched the viral video of Melissa's cafeteria mic-drop. His jaw flexed.
"She's... unhinged," said his head of PR. "She's a genius," Max muttered under his breath.
His phone buzzed again. This time, a message from his mother:
"That woman you're ignoring is more Botho than half your board. Stop being stupid."
He closed the phone. Turned to the window and smiled