Luke waited, trying not to press.
After a long moment, Amayah let out a slow breath. “All right, here’s the truth.”
She didn’t look at him. Her gaze stayed on the road. But her voice softened, steadied.
“When all of this started, I didn’t expect . . . any of it. Not the following. Not the partnerships. Not the income that came with it.” Her fingers eased on the steering wheel, just slightly. “Some days I still don’t know what to do with all of it.”
Luke didn’t interrupt.
She continued, “So I try to hold it loosely. I try to use it well. And I don’t talk about it much because . . . the moment money becomes the point, you lose sight of the purpose.” She gave a small, almost hesitant laugh. “And I don’t ever want to lose that.”
Her shoulders rose and fell with another breath—lighter this time, freer, like she’d just opened a window she normally kept shut.
“That’s my answer,” she finished. “Not dramatic. Not impressive. Just . . . honest.”
Luke felt the weight of her words settle somewhere deep in his chest.
Her response hadn’t been flashy or curated.
Just truth—simple and unpolished.
The kind of truth he wasn’t used to finding in his line of work.
And the kind that made him realize this story—herstory—was already more complicated than the one he’d been sent to uncover.
CHAPTER 16
Snow whisperedacross the windshield as Amayah turned onto the long, winding drive. The headlights cut a narrow path in front of her, and finally—there it was.
The house rose like something half-remembered from a winter ghost story.
The old Carroway Estate.
Three stories of weathered stone and boarded windows. Turrets that once held promise now stood like silent watchmen. The front porch sagged under the weight of time, its railing missing spindles, its paint stripped bare by decades of storms. Ivy clung to the brick even in the dead of winter, stubborn and skeletal, weaving through cracks like an old secret refusing to be forgotten.
Amayah parked on the old driveway.
Most people thought the place was haunted. Maybe it was.
But to her, it felt more like a wounded landmark—one that had been waiting a long time for someone to notice it again.
“Here we are,” she announced to Luke.
“Before we get out of the car, I have one more question,” Luke said.
She leaned back. “Okay. Shoot.”
“I’m curious—how do you handle the haters? I’m sure you have some, maybe even a lot. Anyone with an online presence does. And, unfortunately, the world just seems to be becoming more hateful by the moment as keyboard warriors get bolder.”
She let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, the haters are there all right. Some people just dislike you because you’re successful. Some people just want to tear everyone down. I think that says more about them than it does me.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I can’t let other people’s opinions define me.” She paused. “When I first started, this woman came after me hard online. I mean, it was brutal. Talking about how I was a fake. Just doing things for the views. That all I cared about was money.”
“What did you do?”
“At first, I really let it get to me. I felt devastated. Then I realized—not to sound like a broken record—but I realized that wasn’t a door I wanted to walk through. And I had a choice. I could let other people’s opinions about me change the way I viewed myself. Or I could rest in the assurance that I was simply being the person God created me to be.”
