Chapter 1
Reet Mathebula was 22
Final year at Waterford University. No boyfriend. No scandals.
And the second daughter of the Mathebula family.
Her mother was Doreen Mathebula. The second wife.
Doreen came from wealth family. Her father left her a company, a house, and cars when he died.
That’s when she met Hector Mathebula.
He told her he was divorced. He told her he loved her.
But his love had a price tag.
Doreen fell for it. Hard.
They married in secret when she was 4 months pregnant with Reet.
After the wedding, Hector changed.
The sweet words stopped. The lies started.
When Reet was 1 month old, Doreen found out the truth.
Hector was already married to Lucy. And Lucy already had a daughter, Miller.
Doreen confronted him. She said she would file for divorce. She said she would tell everyone.
Two weeks later, Doreen died in a car accident.
"Accident."
After the funeral, everything Doreen owned was transferred to Hector’s name.
The company. The house. The cars. All of it.
Lucy took in baby Reet.
Not out of love. Out of image.
In public, Lucy played the saint who "took in her husband’s mistake."
Behind closed doors, she called Reet "that woman’s child" and told Reet her mother was a homewrecker, a liar, and the reason the family suffered. Reet believed worst of her money
Years passed.
The company started failing. The debt piled up. Creditors called every day.
Lucy couldn’t stand the thought of being poor again.
So she made a deal with Morris Brown, a 45 years old with two wives. Who has royal blood through his mother. He was obsessed with Reet. He said he would pay off all the Mathebula debt if they gave Reet to him as his third wife.
Hector said no at first. Reet was his daughter, even though he never loved Doreen.
Lucy knew he wouldn’t agree easily.
So she paid a man R50,000. A fake prophet to lie that Reet was cursed
At Present Day. Waterford Graveyard.
The wind was cold.
Reet knelt in front of the only grave that never got flowers.
The grass was overgrown. The name was fading.
Doreen Mathebula. 1978 - 2000. Died in car accident .
Her clothes were wet. From rain. From tears.
“I hate you,” she whispered. Her voice cracked.
“I hate you for what you did. Why am I being punished for your actions?”
The tears came harder now.
Her mind folded back. To 3 nights ago.
The dining room. The smell of wine and desperation.
Lucy standing at the head of the table with a Bible.
Prophet Samuel in white robes, pointing right at her.
“The reason all of this is happening is because of her.
This girl was born from sin. Her mother was dirt. The blood of betrayal runs through her veins.
The only way to break the curse is marriage. To a man with royal blood.”.
Everyone believed him.
Because Lucy paid him to say it.
Reet knew who the "man with royal blood" was.
Morris Brown. 45 years old. Two wives.
Obsessed with her. He’d been watching her since she turned 18.
He promised Lucy he’d pay off all their debt if he could have Reet as his third wife.
And Lucy... Lucy didn’t want to go back to poverty.
She’d tasted money for 20 years. She’d rather sell Reet than lose it.
And Hector.
Her father.
Greedy. Weak.
He agreed.
He who killed Reet’s mother to take her inheritance... was now selling Reet to save it.
Reet was crying so hard she couldn’t breathe.
“Why me, Mom? Why me?”
Footsteps behind her. Slow. Deliberate.
Miller.
Red dress. White heels. Even at a graveyard she looked like she was going to a party.
“I don’t blame you for hating her,” Miller said, stopping a few steps away.
“I would hate her too.”
Reet didn’t turn around.
Miller continued, voice sweet and sharp like glass.
“She was so loose. Couldn’t keep her legs closed. And now look at you. Cursed. Because of her.”
Reet was used to this. 20 years of it.
Whenever Reet tried to defend Doreen, Lucy would shut her down.
_“My daughter won’t have peace because of that woman’s daughter.”_
Miller stepped closer. Her shadow fell over Doreen’s grave.
“The worst part?” Miller smiled. “You’re going to marry that old man. The one with two wives. And there’s nothing you can do to change it.”
She said it like it was good news.
Like she was enjoying watching Reet bleed.
They were half-sisters. Same father.
But Miller treated Reet like she wasn’t family at all.
Miller hated Reet the same way Lucy hated Doreen.
With jealousy. With venom.
Because Reet was prettier. Smarter. And Hector, despite everything, was still her blood too.
The only one who loved Reet was Wendy. 17. Lucy’s youngest. Her half-sister as well.
But Wendy was just a child. And children didn’t get a vote.
Reet finally stood up. Her legs were shaking.
Arguing with Miller was pointless. Miller was right about one thing.
There was nothing Reet could do.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand.
Didn’t look at Miller.
Didn’t look at the grave.
She just walked back home.
To the house that was supposed to be her mother’s.
To the family that was selling her.
To a marriage that was supposed to "break the curse."
Behind her, Miller laughed softly.
That Evening. The Mathebula Mansion.
Reet stayed in her room the whole day.
From morning until sunset.
She didn’t eat. She didn’t cry out loud. She just sat.
On her bed. Staring at the wall. Staring at her mother’s photo.
She cared about her future.
She was 20. She had never been in a relationship.
She didn’t even know what love felt like.
And tomorrow she was going to be married to an old man with two wives.
Tomorrow was going to be a new chapter of her life.
One she didn’t choose.
No one checked on her.
No one asked how she was doing. How she felt.
Their only focus was the debt. The money. The "curse."
Except Wendy.
A soft knock. 5pm.
“Reet? It’s me.”
Wendy slipped in with a plate of food. Rice and chicken.
Her eyes were red. “Please eat. Even a little bit.”
Reet looked at her little half-sister and shook her head.
“I want to be alone, Wendy.” Her voice was hoarse.
Wendy nodded. She didn’t argue. She just set the plate down.
“I’ll come check on you later, okay?”
Then she left. Quietly.
Hours passed.
Reet’s throat was dry.
Around 9pm she finally stood up. She needed water.
She walked down the hall barefoot. The house was quiet.
Until she got to the kitchen.
Laughter.
Lucy’s laugh. High and victorious.
Miller’s laugh. Low and cruel.
Reet stopped. Her heart pounded. She peeked around the corner.
They were at the island. Two wine glasses. A bottle of red.
Celebrating.
“I still can’t believe you hired the fake prophet to lie about Reet being cursed,” Miller said, tossing her hair.
“I know, right?” Lucy clinked her glass against Miller’s. “The man was so dramatic. Pointing and shouting. Oscar-worthy.”
Reet’s stomach dropped.
She knew they didn’t like her.
She didn’t think they were _this_ evil.
Lucy took a long sip of wine and smiled.
“I will not let that b_tch live in my house in peace.”
The house.
The house that legally belonged to Reet’s mother.
The house Hector stole.
Lucy continued, raising her glass. “Tomorrow she will be the third wife of Morris Brown. Cheers to that.”
“Cheers,” Miller grinned. “To getting rid of her.”
Reet didn’t make a sound.
She didn’t confront them. What was the point?
Her hands were shaking.
Instead, she turned around and walked straight to her father’s study.
