Chapter 1 THE MEETING.

AMANDA'S POV.

My mother's words rang in my mind as I stepped into the kitchen to prepare dinner: 'He doesn't trust poor people because of his past experiences.'

I understand the skepticism towards middle-class people these days, but my father needs to realize that Victor is the man I love.

He's the one I want to share my life with, and if my father can't accept that, then he'll have to lose me first because I refuse to let go of Victor.

It's been three years since we exchanged vows, and even without my father's blessing, we're thriving.

At least my mom supports our marriage, I thought, checking the gas to ensure it was lit before placing a pot of water on the burner.

Just then, my phone chimed, and I saw it was my mom calling. Wiping my hands on a towel, I grabbed the phone from the countertop and stepped out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Mom," I greeted her. "I've told you not to call me 'hey,'" she replied. "Okay, I'm sorry. What's the update?" I asked, glancing back at the kitchen before focusing on the call.

"Darling, I'd love for you to come home for dinner tonight," my mother suggested, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Mom, the last time I visited, it didn't go well because of that man," I retorted. "That man is your father. No matter what happens, you need to show him respect, young lady," she countered, defending my father's stance. She had a point, though.

"Mom, we had dinner together last week. I don't think it's necessary to come over again," I replied, not keen on spending another evening at my parents' house.

If I went, I certainly wouldn't be going alone. The creaking of the door caught my attention, and I turned to see Victor, my husband, standing there.

Victor wore his usual black pants and a crisp white shirt, neatly tucked in, with his tie slightly loose and his dark hair gleaming.

"My dear, we have an important visitor coming, and you shouldn't miss it," my mother's voice boomed through the phone, pulling my focus back to her as Victor approached me.

"Can I bring Victor with me?" I asked, noticing Victor shake his head in disagreement, but I playfully rolled my eyes at him.

"Yes, of course," my mother replied after a brief silence.

"Alright, I'll get ready, and we'll head over," I said before ending the call. "Babe, I don't want to go anywhere," Victor said, and I held his hands firmly.

"If it's about my dad, you don't need to worry. I'm always here for you," I reassured him, pulling him closer and wrapping my arms around his neck.

"How long will I have to deal with his insults? When will he finally trust me?" Victor asked, concern etched on his face.

"My love, don't stress about my dad's behavior. That's just how he is," I replied.

"No, it's not. I see how he interacts with others at work. He's much friendlier with them. Is it because I'm poor-"

Before he could continue, I pressed my fingers to his lips. "No more of that, babe. Let's get ready," I said, leaning in to kiss him.

"How about I have you for dinner?" Victor suggested, playfully stroking my shoulder.

I let out a soft moan as his tongue explored my mouth.

"The water! The hot water!" I exclaimed between kisses, trying to pull away. "Hey, not so fast," Victor said, holding me at the waist.

"Babe, I'm coming, I'm coming," I replied, breaking free to rush to the kitchen and turn off the gas.

A little while after Victor and I put on our casual clothes, we hopped into my favorite Range Rover and headed to my parents' house.

"So, babe, do you know who this person is?" Victor asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

"No, babe. It seems they want to keep it a surprise," I replied quickly.

Eventually, we reached the two-story white duplex at Mercy Estate.

After Victor parked in the garage, he got out and opened the door, offering his hand to help me out.

"Thank you, my gentleman," I said playfully as Victor smiled while we walked to the entrance.

"Amanda will be so happy to see you!" I heard my mom's voice call out as we rang the doorbell.

The door swung open, revealing Chef Bisola, one of my dad's most trusted cooks. "Welcome, madam and oga," she said, stepping aside for us to enter.

As we walked into the living room, I noticed my mom talking to another woman.

From her tone, I could tell she was someone I knew. "Mom, I'm home," I called out as they turned to look at us, and both Victor and the young lady gasped, leaving my mom and me confused.

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