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CHAPTER FIVE

“Sarah, that boy feels like a weapon formed against me, but he won’t succeed,” Abby declares, gulping down water like she’s been stranded in a desert.

Sarah throws her head back, laughing. “He’s really gotten to you! He didn’t even offer you water?”

Abby groans. “Oh my goodness, Sarah. He flirted with me the entire time! I asked if he wanted to rededicate his life to God, and you know what he said? ‘Will that make you date me?’”

She shakes her head, exasperated. “Is he trying to commit his life to God or me?”

Sarah wipes away a tear, still laughing. “You two need your own reality show.”

Abby shakes her head. “He’s everything a woman should avoid: drinks too much, sleeps around, full of himself, and smokes like a chimney. His mom must’ve been a saint not to disown him.”

Sarah’s laughter fades, replaced by a thoughtful sigh.

“It’s not easy to turn your back on your child, no matter what they do.”

Abby exhales, reaching for a more comfortable outfit. “He’s so hard-hearted.” She pauses, her expression softening. “Maybe I should start praying for him.”

Sarah nods. “That’s probably the best thing. Only the Holy Spirit can turn that boy around.”

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CHAPTER FOUR

Abby finishes her morning devotion with Sarah, then gathers her things, ready to face another day at Mrs. Scott’s home.

As she approaches the gate, the security guard recognizes her and waves her in without hesitation.

She hesitates for a moment before knocking on the front door, whispering a silent prayer. Lord, let today be better. Give me patience.

The door swings open, and the familiar scent of smoke wraps around her like an unwelcome guest.

Abby reaches for her nose mask, slipping it on as Bayanni leans against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re back, sweetheart?” His voice drips with amusement. “Left last time like you weren’t planning to return.”

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CHAPTER THREE

Sarah bursts into laughter, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Abby, who mirrors her posture.

“So, the ‘kid’ you expected turned out to be a grown man?” She laughs again, shaking her head.

Abby huffs, grabbing a handful of potato chips. “As if that wasn’t bad enough. That man smokes like a chimney! It’s like he’s rehearsing for hell on earth.”

Sarah slaps a hand over her mouth, but another laugh escapes. Abby, unfazed, crunches down on a chip. “And get this, when I asked him if he believes in God and Jesus as our Savior, do you know what he said?”

Sarah leans in, eyes wide. “What?”

Abby rolls her eyes, lowering her voice to mimic Bayanni’s deep, teasing tone. “‘Yes, and do you believe I can make you moan?’”

Sarah nearly chokes on her chips, sputtering into a coughing fit.

Abby shoves a cup of water into her hands. “What’s so funny?”

Sarah wipes tears from her eyes, still giggling. “You’ve met a bigger match this time.”

Abby scowls. “It’s not funny! I was dressed modestly! Why does he think I’m like those girls he flirts with?” She exhales sharply, shaking her head.

“Anyway, I called Mrs. Scott on my way home and told her I’m not interested in counseling her son. I thought he was a teenager.”

Sarah finally catches her breath. “And?”

“She said we should talk tomorrow after church.” Abby pops another chip into her mouth, chewing a little too aggressively.

Sarah smirks. “Well, we’ll see how that goes.”

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CHAPTER TWO

“Bayanni!” Samantha’s voice cuts through the quiet of the house.

At the top of the stairs, Bayanni appears, shirtless, hair wild from sleep, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. He takes a slow drag, eyes half-lidded, then exhales a thick cloud of smoke as he saunters down.

Samantha coughs, waving her hand in front of her face. “How many times have I told you not to smoke in the house?”

He smirks. “Then get a nose cover, Mom.” Another puff.

Another lazy swirl of smoke.

She glares at him, hands on her hips. “Sometimes I wish I had another child after you.”

Bayanni shrugs, unfazed. “Why’d you call me?”

“A lady is coming this weekend to counsel you,” she says, arms crossing like a shield. “And you better behave.”

His brow lifts. “A lady, huh?”

“And what’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” He leans against the wall, taking another drag. “Just wondering if she’s pretty.”

Samantha exhales sharply. “One might think you’re an exhaust pipe with the way you smoke! And she’s not the type of woman you’re used to. She’s beautiful, yes, but with grace and modesty.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No woman has ever resisted my charm.”

Samantha’s eyes narrow. “You’re in for a surprise.” She steps closer, voice low but firm. “If you try anything inappropriate, I swear I’ll have you arrested. This time, I mean it.”

Bayanni tilts his head, exuding confidence. “She’ll come to me on her own.”

Samantha lets out an exasperated sigh, turns on her heel, and disappears into her room, leaving him with his cigarette and an ego too big for the house.

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CHAPTER ONE

“Bayanni Scott!” Samantha’s voice cuts through the stifling air.

She stands in the doorway, taking in the disaster before her: empty bottles littered across the floor, cigarette butts crushed into the carpet, broken glass glinting under dim lighting. The stench of alcohol, sweat, and stale smoke clings to the walls.

She exhales sharply, pressing the button on the wall. The heavy curtains glide open, flooding the room with morning light and revealing the city skyline beyond.

“Bayanni, I know you can hear me. Get up, we need to talk!”

A groggy figure stirs in the massive bed. Bayanni drags a hand over his face and blinks at her.

“What is it, Mom?” His voice is hoarse, sluggish.

Samantha steps closer, her expression carved with disappointment. “Look around,” she says, sweeping a hand over the wreckage.

“The place reeks of smoke and alcohol. Your so-called friends trashed the house, and there’s vomit in the living room.”

Bayanni leans back against the headboard, unfazed. “Call the housekeeper. She’ll clean it up.”

Samantha’s lips press into a thin line. “She quit,” she says, crossing her arms. “Said you nearly assaulted her while I was away.”

Bayanni scoffs. “She was the one throwing herself at me. You should just hire someone else.”

Samantha sits at the edge of his bed, the weight of years of disappointment settling on her shoulders.

At twenty-eight, this is what he’s become: a man who drinks, gambles, fornicates, and surrounds himself with empty pleasures.

“You refuse to work. You refuse to change,” she says, shaking her head. “Every time I come back, it’s the same; chaos, smoke, alcohol, filth.”

Bayanni exhales, rolling his eyes. “Mom, you’re stressing over nothing. It’s going to shorten your lifespan.”

She shakes her head. “No, Bayanni. I won’t end up like your father. God forbid!”

His jaw tightens, anger flashing in his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I killed him?”

Samantha pushes to her feet, her gaze unwavering.

“I just want you to wake up. You should be running the company, not me. I’m tired, and I’m retiring soon. You need to pull yourself together.”

Without another word, she turns and strides out.

Bayanni watches her go, his chest burning. She knows how much those words cut him, yet she keeps saying them like he’s the reason his father is dead, like it’s his fault.

Maybe even God thinks so too.

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