Master of Lust

Chapter - 273

Rick approached the table, his expression calm but concerned. "Is everything okay here?" he asked, his eyes shifting between Jemimah and the agitated waitress.

Annie's gaze turned on him, her eyes narrow with disdain. "Oh, so you're the new one, huh? Her next rich boyfriend?" she sneered.

"Careful, because once she's sucked you dry, she'll leave you with a shattered heart. That's her style."

Rick raised his hands, attempting to diffuse her hostility. "Look, I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding. Whatever issue you have with her, does not matter now.

My father found Jemimah unconscious, and after some check-ups, the doctors confirmed she has amnesia. She really has no memory of her past. So, please stop bothering her, unless you have something helpful or nice to say."

Annie's eyes narrowed further, her expression one of absolute disbelief. She gave him a hard, almost pitying look. "And you believe that? Poor, naive guy," she scoffed.

"She's a lying bitch, and she'll turn on you the moment it suits her. Mark my words. She'll leave you when you're at your lowest—she might even drive you to your death, just like she did with the last two men."

Rick and Jemimah both stared, stunned, but before either could respond, Annie spun on her heel and stormed off, leaving the table in a tense, unsettling silence.

Rick stood frozen for a moment, the weight of everything hitting him. Just minutes ago, he'd been debating whether to tell Jemimah about his father's condition—wondering if he should mention his father's accident and coma, despite not wanting to ruin the mood.

He knew that, sooner or later, Jemimah would find out, so he'd planned to break the news gently. But seeing her now, visibly shaken and disturbed by the confrontation with Annie, he decided to hold off.

He glanced over at her, watching the way she stared at the table, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her dress, lost in thought.

She looked upset and confused, a hint of sadness flickering behind her eyes. He knew this wasn't the right time. She needed a moment to process what had just happened.

Rick lingered for a moment, his gaze drifting toward where the waitress had disappeared. Jemimah—or rather, Nadia Ahmed, as he'd discovered her real name to be—was still such a mystery to him.

The only things he knew were fragments: her age, her name, and a hint of her past sexual behaviour. It seemed she had often sought the company of men, drawn to passion. Yet, despite what he knew, none of it seemed to define who she was now.

The Nadia that the system hinted at seemed worlds away from the woman who sat quietly across the table, visibly troubled by the angry outburst.

Rick considered whether the waitress's words held any truth or if they were tainted by jealousy over a past betrayal. Maybe she was twisting the story to hurt Jemimah. He thought about following her, clearing up the misunderstanding, and possibly even convincing her to apologize. But as he glanced over at Jemimah, his resolve wavered.

Jemimah sat frozen, her hands nervously twisting the edge of the tablecloth. Her face had gone pale, her eyes wide and unfocused, brimming with tears that she seemed to be holding back.

She looked deeply shaken, almost like she'd been blindsided, trying to process something ungraspable. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, as if she were shrinking under the weight of something invisible. Seeing her in such distress, Rick couldn't bring himself to leave her side.

He gently slid into the chair beside her, reaching out to touch her hand. "Hey, Jemimah," he said softly, "That waitress…she could've just mistaken you for someone else, or maybe she just had some bad blood with you in the past wanted to take it out on you when you don't remember anything and you are vulnerable."

He squeezed her hand lightly. "Don't let one stranger's words get to you, okay?"

Jemimah gave a tiny, dismissive shake of her head, her gaze still fixed downward. Her voice was barely a whisper, lost in disbelief. "I just…I don't understand… Was that really me? Could I have been that person?"

Rick frowned, gently brushing a tear from her cheek. "Look, even if you were friends before…maybe she is exaggerating or lying to you, so she could get back to you, for whatever issues you had in the past."

She looked up, the disbelief in her eyes tinged with a sadness that cut straight to his heart. "Rick…can we just go? I need to get out of here. Please…take me home."

Rick nodded gently and, without another word, paid the bill and called for a cab. He led Jemimah outside, his hand warm and reassuring on her shoulder.

The night air was cool and quiet, contrasting with the lively ambiance of the restaurant they were leaving behind. He helped her into the cab and then settled in beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders in a comforting embrace.

As the cab pulled away, Rick glanced down at Jemimah. She was leaning against him, silent, her gaze lost somewhere outside the window. He whispered gentle words, soft reassurances, doing his best to ease her troubled mind.

"Don't let her words change what we have here, Jemimah," he murmured, his voice low. But she remained quiet, her hand resting lightly against his chest, seeking warmth and comfort.

Through the rest of the ride, she stayed close, holding onto Rick as though he were the only thing anchoring her. Her silence spoke of pain and questions she couldn't yet express. And so, Rick simply held her, content to be her support.

Rick hesitated, watching Jemimah's closed door for a moment longer before retreating to his temporary bedroom. The dim light felt heavier as he lay down, his mind a chaotic mix of worry and frustration. He kept replaying the incident with the waitress and Jemimah's troubled expression, feeling helpless over the emotional wall she'd thrown up.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, an idea sparked. Why hadn't he thought of it before? If Jemimah's—no, Nadia's—past was hidden, maybe social media could shed some light. Without wasting a second, he unlocked his phone, fingers typing in the name Nadia Ahmed with a focused determination.

Moments later, he was scrolling through the search results.

After scrolling for a while, he found three search results that had Nadia's photo. He clicked on the first one—a picture of Nadia with a few friends, the waitress Annie standing closest to her.

He checked the posts, but they didn't seem recent; only three photos were there. One was with her girl group, another was an image of a beautiful sky, and the last was an inspirational quote. It was probably an inactive account, with the last photo posted five years ago.

He clicked on the second result, hoping to find something more useful, but luck wasn't on his side—this account was private. Sighing, he tapped on the third result.

And there it was—the third result felt like striking gold.

This profile had significantly more followers than the other two, almost like Nadia was a small influencer. As Rick scanned the posts, he realized most of them were photos of Nadia standing proudly with beautifully presented dishes. He smirked. So that's where her knack for cooking comes from, he thought.

As he continued scrolling, he noticed, between the photos of delectable plates were some photos of her on a beach, posing confidently in a bikini, a few standing in front of an exclusive resort, and a handful with a guy in designer clothes, both of them posed next to a gleaming Rolls Royce. Rick's eyes widened slightly. Finally... a piece of the puzzle.

He leaned in, his gaze sharpening as he focused on the posts. Maybe this would reveal something more substantial—something that could finally explain who Jemimah, or Nadia, really was.

He sighed, frustrated with how little he was finding. All these pictures told him that Jemimah, or Nadia, had a life filled with beaches, fancy resorts, and an appetite for adventure—but no trace of what led to her memory loss or why she ended up on his father's doorstep.

Lost in thought, he mulled over how he might dig deeper. Then an idea struck him—maybe the real story lay hidden in the comments. It was worth a try. He scrolled back to the start, looking for posts with the most engagement.

With a determined focus, he began reading through the comments one by one, hoping someone had dropped hints or mentioned events that could shine a light on her life before all of this.

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