Amaira’s phone buzzed again as she leaned back in the passenger seat of Theodore’s car, her mind still whirling from the surreal day she’d had. She was about to meet his mother, pretend to be his girlfriend, and for what? Money to pay off her uncle? And that’s when her phone screen lit up, the text message causing her stomach to drop instantly:

“I’m at your place. ”

All the color drained from Amaira’s face. Her heart pounded in her chest as panic gripped her. He’s here? Now? She quickly glanced out the window as they neared her apartment building, her anxiety spiraling. She had no idea what state he’d be in—drunk, angry, or both—and the last thing she wanted was for Theodore to see that part of her life.

As soon as the car stopped, Amaira bolted. “Thanks for the ride, Mr.Theodore!” she called over her shoulder, not giving him a chance to respond. She slammed the car door and hurried towards her apartment building, her mind in overdrive. Please don’t let him be causing a scene.

Theodore, left half-dazed by her sudden exit, watched her run off. He had been about to tell her that she needed to come to the office tomorrow to finalize the contract, but the words caught in his throat as she disappeared. He frowned, shrugged, and flicked on his left signal to pull away.

But just as he glanced back at Amaira one last time, something caught his attention—something that made his blood run cold.

Someone was yanking Amaira’s bag. Hard.

Theodore’s heart slammed in his chest as he watched the man pull at her, his rough hands gripping the strap of her bag with a force that made her stumble. Without thinking, Theodore hit the brakes and leaped out of the car.

“Amaira!” he shouted, sprinting across the sidewalk towards her.

The scene before him sent a surge of fury through him. Amaira was in complete disarray, her face pale with shock, her hands struggling to hold onto her bag as the man yanked harder. But what made Theodore see red was the fresh, glaring red mark on her cheek—a handprint, clear as day.

Before Amaira could register what was happening, Theodore had crossed the distance between them, grabbed the man by his collar, and threw him to the ground. The man fell with a heavy thud, dazed, as Theodore stood over him, fists clenched, his breath coming out in ragged, angry bursts.

Amaira stumbled back, her chest heaving with panic, her hair disheveled and her bag strap torn. She had never seen Theodore like this—his normally calm, composed demeanor had evaporated, replaced by a terrifying rage.

Theodore's eyes were locked on the man, his jaw tight. He wasn’t done. He wasn’t nearly done. His hands trembled with the urge to punch the guy into oblivion. He could barely focus on anything other than the stinging anger pulsing through his veins.

“How dare you—” Theodore growled, raising his fist. His entire body was shaking with fury, the need to protect Amaira overwhelming his sense of reason.

“No!” Amaira cried, her voice panicked as she rushed forward. She grabbed onto his arm, trying to stop him, her fingers digging into his sleeve. “Theo, wait!”

He paused for a fraction of a second, but his eyes were still on the man sprawled on the ground, who groaned and began to push himself up. Theodore’s knuckles turned white as he prepared to punch him again.

“Theo, stop!” Amaira shouted, her voice more urgent this time. She stepped between him and the man, still holding onto his arm with all her strength. “You can’t! Please, stop! It’s... it’s my uncle.”

Theodore’s fist froze mid-air.

He blinked, his breathing ragged, as he slowly processed what Amaira had just said. He looked down at the man at his feet—this disheveled, aggressive man—and realized that the person he had nearly beaten to a pulp was someone Amaira knew. Someone from her family.

Her uncle.

Amaira’s grip on his arm tightened, her chest still rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to control her own panic. “Theo, please...” she said, her voice softer now, pleading. “Don’t hurt him.”

Theodore stared at her for a long moment, his fist still hovering in the air. His jaw was tight, his mind racing. He was still furious—how could this man dare to lay a hand on her—but the sight of Amaira’s desperation held him back. She was trembling, her eyes wide with fear, not just for herself, but for her uncle. She didn’t want things to get any worse.

Slowly, Theodore lowered his fist, though his entire body still felt tense, his muscles coiled with the desire to protect her. His eyes flicked between Amaira and the man on the ground, trying to make sense of the situation.

Amaira let out a shaky breath, her fingers still gripping his arm as if afraid he might snap again. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Theodore took a step back, his mind still buzzing with anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice harsh, though he wasn’t angry at her. Not really. He was angry at the situation. Angry that she had been put in such a vulnerable position.

Amaira swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. “It’s... complicated,” she said, glancing at her uncle, who was groaning on the ground, trying to get up. “He’s... not a good man. But he’s family.”

Theodore clenched his jaw, forcing himself to calm down. Family or not, no one gets to hurt her like that.

Amaira stepped closer to her uncle, her face a mixture of anger and worry. “What are you doing here, Uncle?” she asked, her voice cold. “You can’t just—”

“I need money,” her uncle grumbled, staggering to his feet, still rubbing his neck from where Theodore had grabbed him. “I told you before. I need the money now.”

Amaira’s expression hardened, her shoulders squaring. “I told you I don’t have it right now.”

Her uncle’s eyes darted to Theodore, his expression sour. “Who’s this guy? Your boyfriend?” he sneered.

Theodore, still standing protectively beside Amaira, glared at her uncle but remained silent, his fists still clenched at his sides.

Amaira crossed her arms. “None of your business. You need to leave.”

Her uncle opened his mouth to argue, but Theodore took a step forward, and the man instantly flinched. Clearly, he didn’t want a repeat of what had just happened.

“You heard her,” Theodore said, his voice low and dangerous. “Leave.”

Her uncle, still rubbing his bruises, muttered something under his breath but slowly turned and walked away, disappearing down the street. Amaira let out a long, exhausted sigh, watching him go with a mixture of relief and frustration.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she muttered, her voice small as she looked at Theodore. “I didn’t want you to get involved.”

Theodore softened as he looked at her, his anger fading. “You don’t have to apologize for him,” he said quietly. “But you’re not dealing with this alone anymore. Not as long as I’m around.”

Amaira bit her lip, her heart warming despite the chaos. She didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded, her emotions swirling between gratitude and confusion.

Theodore, sensing the tension, glanced at his watch. “I’ll call you about tomorrow’s meeting,” he said, his tone gentle now. “We’ll finalize everything then.”