Jamole The Risk Taker
As soon as Jamole sneaked into the villa Susan questioned him, “For how long are we going to stay in the dark and keep the staff anxious and uncertain?” she rode her wheel chair toward her husband.

Their gaze locked in tandem.

“I hope you had a better day after the meeting?” Jamole asked, drifted to her corner, caught her face and pressed his lips on her forehead. “You look drawn and stressed out.”

Susan quarreled. “I am supposed to look worse than this, dear. You are driving naught. How do I sit and watch those riffraff manhandle my husband all because he has chosen not to own up as the heir.”

Jamole squatted to her. She snapped out of his gaze and averted her stare to the wall behind him. But he took her palm into his and petted her.

“Tell me you are not enjoying this. I know what I am doing and I assure you with time they will suffer because I will get my pound of flesh. To some there is no heir to others you are the heir. Let that be their confusion. As a janitor, I will work smart
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