|Backfire of contract|

"Bring my knife, I will kill that bitch then dance on her grave. I will call mongooses, rats, and snakes to her funeral," Leona declared, glaring at the lady who was shedding fake tears.

For the first time in many years, Leona despised the color black. It was tormenting to embrace that color after the loss of her loved one. The death of Ronald crushed many hearts. He was a living angel that the world lost. 

Leona attended the cremation when Ryan cleared up the passage for her. 

When she noticed his wife faking boisterous sobs, Ryan held Leona back so she wouldn't kill that bitch lady.

"I want to pull her by her hair and drag her in a sewage," Leona grumbled through the pretense, "then allow the dogs to poop on her. I know he wasn't that handsome, but his heart was gold. How the fuck did that mother fucking rat cheat him? No! Screw that! Why the fuck does he still love her?"

"Unfortunately, when it comes to love, it's not the sole emotion we can feel. There are many other emotions that come complimentary with it. Jealously, grief, anxiousness, happiness, relief, and pain. The most powerful weapon every love holds." 

"Why feel something that destroys you?" She sneered. 

"Why not? Feeling emotions make us human, doesn't it?" Ryan shot back but Leona just shook her head as if the idea of emotions disgusted her.

She was aggravated. For five years Ronald was tolerating his wife even though she cheated on him twice. She loathed how those flimsy feelings of so-called love blinded him to the point where he lost his essence.

Love surely was a hazardous dope. It devours your heart, shatters your bones, smudges your psyche, and kills your deliciously, slowly but surely.

"At least now you are not talking about killing. I will take that as an optimistic sign," Ryan said, holding the passenger door upright for her.

Leona rolled her eyes. "That's because you will kill her."

Ryan frowned, scaling in the driver's seat. "Why not you?"

"I would get dog poop on my hand, duh," she told him, discarding her shades and mask that was smothering her lips.

Her manager sigh in defeat and flicked the dynamo. Just when they were about to evacuate, a shimmering grey Mercedes rolled beside them.

Leona vented a whistle. "A sexy car." She sank the tinted window to get a better look at the model. The car acquired a matte texture just like her painted nails. She turned so preoccupied with salivating over the car that she didn't get a chance to cloak her face when the door swung open.

A man with remarkably refined black shoes set his foot out and when his body came in sight, Leona benumbed.

"The fuck this man is doing here?" she frowned.

She observed him adjusting his black shirt and driving his fingers through his sumptuous dark tresses. Peeking through the clouds, brilliant daylight nestled at the curve of his neck and shamelessly flirted with the exposed skin of his chest, granting her a view of something metallic that was obscured under the crip raven fabric. He heaved his hand and smoothly slid off the sunglasses

That was when their gaze collided. Again.

The veil of astonishment fell over his handsome face but he was quick to assemble himself back. Leona stared at him with a slight frown, apparently foreseeing him the last person she would run to.

"What a surprise?" his silky voice had a touch of hoarseness as he licked his plump lips.

Leona glowered at him. "I want my passport back. Don't make me take things in my hands, Jimin." 

The fury glints on her face as she lamented the decision of hunching a ride with him. The only reason she did settle in his car is that she could tell he knew something about her. Something that he shouldn't be knowing—her identity.

Jimin tilted his head, the act that causes his feathery hair to move and spill over his forehead. Pushing them back, he cut the distance short with two steps and inclined over the window. Hands coolly folded on the window trim, he dropped his head, staring straight into her scarily vivid synthesis of the ocean and wild amazon forest eyes.

Leona didn't bother to lay distance between his face and hers and intently stared back, though she could feel her inside crunching. But his formidable eyes; eerily serene but strangely expressive with the hazes of the midnight sky, compel her to disregard their surroundings.

"I was hoping to see you," he spoke. Voice oh so hush and melodious that it amazed her. When she didn't say anything he continued, "We have a lot of business to talk about."

Indeed not discerning his words, Leona rolled her eyes. "You and I have nothing to talk about. I will send my manager to collect my passport, you better hand it over. You can keep my purse if you liked it that much."

Jimin smirked, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. "Leona, you will yourself come to me. And for that," he yielded a silvery card from his pocket and extended it out. "Here, I will eagerly wait for you."

Leona clenched her paws so they won't go flying at his face, and didn't oblige herself to accept the card from him. Ryan was beyond aghast to witness the strange conversation between his witch boss and the sexy man.

"Excuse me, don't you think you are too close?" Ryan pointed out, once perceiving that Leona must be conspiring measures to assassinate the man.

"She isn't complaining, why would you?" Jimin arched his eyebrows, cocking his gaze back at her.

Leona's eyes snapped on the beautiful nail scrapes on his wrist, and a ghostly smile united her bare lips. With her index fingernail, she reached and sharply traced the nail mark, looking into his eyes.

"Move before I slash my nails in your neck or best, your eyes." A last harsh flick on his wrist, and she fetched her hand back. 

At a distance, a loud upheaval startled her and Jimin promptly slipped his card on her lap, saying, "Be quick and move. The herd of media is heading over here. Take the Nightingale cafe route, the other route is  rammed with media." He straightened up and winked down at the winter hair beauty. "See you soon, baby."

"This little p-," her expletives were disrupted by Ryan scuttling the car to the fulvous gates to flee. Sighing, she rolled up the tinted window to conceal herself from the world. 

"Well, he's a snack," Ryan commented after taking a turn over the Nightingale cafe. 

Leona gave him a disgusting look, grinding her nose. "Shut up."

"But, how do you kn-"

"Shut up."

"But I-"

"Shut up."

The poor man grunted, slamming his hand on the steering. "Oh god! You are so annoying!"
.

.

.

When she got back to her apartment, she took a lanky shower and then permitted the caffeine to wash over her senses as she read art records and articles.

Her mind couldn't focus. 

"What the fuck did he mean by that I will meet him willingly? Did he shove his dick in some incorrect place to get that ridiculous thought?" she talked to herself. Bitching on herself is her hobby. 

 She scoffed. "I have whatsoever no reason to engage in any type of conversation with Jimin."

"Now Leo, what are you gonna do?" The distress slithered in her bones.

 She was sure that Ronald's son will inherit the company and he deserved to inherit it since he worked hard, studied at Harvard, and kept away from his nauseous mother. Ronald always used to brag about his son, his eyes use to glimmer when his name was mentioned and that reminded her of her inventor.

Being someone's pride is an honor and an incredible feeling, which Leona wouldn't be experiencing ever again.

Anyway, the bottom query was; Who she will work for? How she's going to continue?

"Can I be a nun?" her eyes gleamed over the thought, then she huffed. "My ass is way too sinful for that."

Leona certainly won't stay in West's cooperation, since she didn't trust a single person residing there. She had a lot of things to figure out but the foremost thing she should be concerned about is her identity. The media must be going crazy already, thinking Ebony will show up due to the death of Ronald.

The hefty rungs ripped her from the land of thoughts and her manager surged into the living room with an expression of terror.

"What got your ass on fire?" she asked, calmly drawing the coffee mug to her glossy lips and confiscating a sip. The acrimonious seething black liquid fermented with her hot tongue and eventually snaked down her larynx, appeasing her nerves.

"We need to meet Park Jimin," Ryan said, scantily puffing and making a sour face to express the idea sounds severe to him as well. Leona's ears twinged just by heeding his name.

That man seemed like a threat to her.

"Why? You liked him that much?" she queried, reposing the mug of caffeine on the tea stand.

Ryan sighed and passed her the IPad to read the email by Ronald's assistant. Craning her neck, she went ahead to read the email assiduously. A final draft of the contract had been attached to the mail.  

When she buried herself in the contract and her blood simmered in wrath. The words collapse through her lips, "What the fuck? He practically sold me!"

"Why would you sign this ludicrous contract with Ronald? The agreement ostensibly states that once you sign it, he has all rights over you. Definition; he can hand over you to work for someone else, he can demolish the contract when he wants, he precisely owned you for the next five years by this piece of paper," Ryan exclaimed, dropping his head in his hands.

Leona certainly recalled the day when she signed this contract. When she was discharged from the hospital, they endorsed the pact and he told her that he held her soul for the next ten years to which she agreed. It's not like she had much or a choice, her life had fallen apart and Ronald was the last straw she adhered to for her survival. 

Not in her wildest dreams, she thought that the contract would backfire after his death and scorch her to the core.

With placid moves, Leona kept the IPad on the purple settee and stood on her feet, sprawling her arms above her head. Letting out a yawn, she idly wandered to her bedroom while her manager eyed her with a frown, functioning so calm. He anticipated her to crash a vase or the IPad at least.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I am going to sleep."

"Leona, we have a bizarre-"

"I am going to sleep."

"We have to talk t-"

"I am going to sleep!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Oh god! Go, sleep! Sleep like dead! Don't wake up even if the zombies attack us! Just sleep! Even if vampires attack us a-"

His mouth was shut by a flip flop flying over him and whacking his forehead.

"Oh, and yes, set an appointment with Park Fucking Jimin Asshole Sleezebag Huxley, in private, and don't you dare wake me up!"

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