Chairman's Beloved Wifey

The teenager, with a slight frown, asked, "Dad, is our country not independent?"

"It is," his father replied, "but our government is not more powerful than Bella Richard." He sighed coldly, his tone filled with resignation.

Meanwhile,

The car crashed through the gates of the French Army base, smashing into the compound.

Immediately, all the soldiers on duty went on high alert, their weapons aimed at the vehicle. But when they saw the license plate, they hesitated, lowering their guns in confusion—recognizing it.

The driver's side door opened, and a girl, with graceful legs and a faltering stance, stumbled out.

She wore a baby-pink short maxi dress, an outfit that contrasted sharply with the military environment.

The girl staggered for a moment but regained her balance swiftly. Her eyes, though beautiful, were clouded with tears, the kind of sadness that only intoxication could nurture. One hand clutched a gun, the other held an expensive bottle of liquor.

She staggered forward, exuding the air of someone who had lost everything.

The Sergeant, cautiously, asked his Chief, "Isn't that Emma Richard, Madam Richard's cousin?"

By "Madam Richard," he referred to Bella Richard, a revered figure across politics, the corporate world, and military circles. Her name commanded the highest respect, often invoked with the title "Madam" by those who admired her.

The Chief squinted at Emma, then replied, "Yes, it's Emma. But there's nothing like Madam Richard in this girl. She's a spoiled princess, a troublemaker. If she weren't Madam Richard's sister, I'd throw her out of here myself."

The Chief's tone was harsh, his annoyance evident.

The Sergeant asked cautiously, "Should we inform Madam Richard about this?"

"No," the Chief replied, "she's in an important meeting. Better not disturb her."

"But Chief, look at her. She's causing a scene and has a gun with her. If this continues, she'll ruin the entire base," the Sergeant added.

The Chief's expression grew darker. Glancing back at Emma, whose finger hovered dangerously over the gun's trigger, he made a decision.

"Fine," he said, taking a deep breath, "Inform Mr. Rawat. Let him handle it."

The Sergeant nodded and hurried off toward the barracks at the end of the base. This was where Bella was holding her meeting.

Inside the dimly lit barracks, Bella was in a strategy session with high-ranking French army officials. The only light came from the projector displaying various weapon models, casting a cold glow across the room.

At the head of the long table sat Bella, dressed simply in a loose white shirt, black jeans, and sneakers—her presence, however, far outshone her attire. Her calm demeanor, as serene as a still lake, demanded the respect of anyone in the room.

The Sergeant arrived at the barracks, pausing just outside the door. He peered in cautiously. Rawat, Bella's assistant, was standing near the projector, listening intently.

"Rawat Sir!" the Sergeant called.

Rawat turned, his sharp features softening slightly as he acknowledged the Sergeant.

"Yes?" Rawat asked.

The Sergeant explained the situation, "Miss Emma is here, and she's causing quite a disturbance. She's drunk and carrying a gun. Should we intervene?"

Rawat's face hardened. "Wait here," he said, before turning back into the barracks to inform Bella.

Moments later, Rawat returned to the Sergeant, his expression grave. "The Boss has given the orders. Let's go."

The Sergeant nodded, and together they left for the courtyard.

As they approached, the scene outside the base was tense. Emma, still holding her gun, was clearly enraged. The soldiers around Bella had their weapons drawn, but Bella herself remained calm, unshaken by the threat.

Rawat glared at Emma. "Put down the gun, Miss Richard," he said in a low, dangerous voice.

But Emma, her anger clouding her judgment, glared back at Bella, eyes full of venom.

"I'll kill you, Bella!" she spat. "You took everything from me—first my parents, then my husband. You killed him!"

Bella's gaze remained cool, unfazed by her cousin's words. The tragic accusation had grown stale. "I had nothing to do with Jim's death," she said quietly, her voice unwavering. "It was Rockwave, not me."

Emma's hand tightened around the gun, but before she could make another move, Bella continued, "If you're looking to blame someone, blame the Chairman, blame Rockwave. Not me."

There was a brief silence as Emma's mind processed Bella's words. Slowly, her gun lowered, but the anger still burned in her eyes.

"You could have saved Jim," Emma said bitterly. "But you did nothing! You saved your own husband when he was in danger, but when it came to Jim, you let him die."

Bella, her expression unreadable, walked closer to Emma. "Give me the gun, and let's go home."

"Home?" Emma sneered. "After everything you've taken from me, you think I'd go anywhere with you?"

Bella's response was almost mechanical. "Emma, this hate won't change anything. You can point your finger at me, but your anger won't bring Jim back. It's over."

Emma took a step back, her face twisted with rage. "You think it's over? No, Bella, it's only just begun. I'm going to kill you!"

Bella's composure remained unshaken as she stepped forward again. "Do it, Emma. If you have the courage."

Emma hesitated, her finger twitching on the trigger. Bella's calmness only seemed to provoke her more.

Rawat, his patience wearing thin, silently raised his own weapon, aiming directly at Emma.

A single gunshot rang out, piercing the tension like a knife.

"Boss!" Rawat shouted, rushing toward Bella.

Bella staggered back two steps, a shocked expression crossing her face.

___________________________________

Why did the Chairman kill Emma's husband?

Will Bella survive?

What will happen when Bella's husband finds out about her condition?

To be continued…