SHATTERED DREAMS

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

I was sitting in my office, trying to focus on some paperwork, when my phone buzzed on the desk. I glanced at it, expecting a routine notification or an email. But when I saw the flood of messages and missed calls lighting up the screen, a sense of unease crept into my chest. The Khumalo name was trending. That was never a good sign, especially with the way my life had been scrutinized since I became South Africa’s youngest billionaire.

I unlocked my phone and immediately opened the first message.

“Congratulations on your baby girl! The Khumalo dynasty grows stronger! 🍼👑”

My stomach dropped. My hands tightened around the phone as I scrolled through more messages, all saying the same thing—people congratulating me and Hlelo on the birth of Phiwokuhle. I switched over to social media, and there it was: pictures of our princess, leaked by the press, spread across every major platform. People had somehow gotten details about our daughter, calling her the “new member of the Khumalo legacy.” Even the hashtag #KhumaloHeiress was trending.

My blood ran cold.

I stood up abruptly, pushing my chair back so hard it scraped against the floor. My heart was pounding in my chest, and the only thing I could think of was how exposed we suddenly were. How exposed Phiwokuhle was. This wasn’t just harmless congratulations—this was dangerous.

“Mntungwa, Mbulazi, Mzilikazi kaMashobane,” I muttered under my breath, invoking my ancestors, trying to keep calm. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just an invasion of privacy. It was a threat. Being the richest young businessman in South Africa had made me a target before, but now they were dragging my family—my little girl—into the spotlight.

I grabbed my jacket and left the office, my mind racing. I had to get home.

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When I walked through the door, I found Hlelo sitting in the living room, playing with Phiwokuhle on her lap. Her face lit up when she saw me, and for a moment, the warmth in her eyes calmed me.

“Mnyeni wami,” she greeted me, her voice soft and full of love, completely unaware of the storm that was brewing online.

I knelt down in front of her, my hand gently resting on her knee. “Mkami, we need to talk,” I said, my voice more serious than I intended. Her brow furrowed with concern as she shifted Phiwokuhle in her arms, sensing something was wrong.

“What is it, Mbulazi?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.

I hesitated for a second, not wanting to alarm her, but she needed to know. “It’s all over the internet, sthandwa sami. The press… they know about Phiwokuhle. People are congratulating us, calling her the new Khumalo heiress.”

Her eyes widened, and she instinctively pulled Phiwokuhle closer to her chest. “What? How? We’ve been so careful…”

“I don’t know,” I said, running a hand over my face. “But it’s out there, and now everyone knows. This is exactly what I didn’t want, njabulo yami. I wanted to protect her, to keep her safe from all of this.”

Hlelo’s expression turned serious as she processed the information. “BabakaPhiwo, we have to do something. We can’t let this put her in danger.”

“I know,” I said, my voice tight with frustration. “I’ll make some calls, get our security doubled. But that’s not enough. Now that they know, we’re going to be under even more scrutiny. It’s not just about keeping her safe from the media. There are people out there who would do anything to get to us—to get to her.”

Hlelo’s grip on Phiwokuhle tightened as she looked down at our daughter, her face filled with worry. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “She’s just a baby.”

I reached out and gently touched her hand. “Sthandwa sami, I won’t let anything happen to either of you. You’re my world. I’ve already contacted my team to investigate the leak and put new measures in place. But we need to be more careful from now on.”

She nodded, though I could see the fear in her eyes. I hated that this had happened, that our peaceful little world had been shattered by outsiders who had no right to be a part of it.

“I’m sorry, Mnyeni wami,” I said softly, squeezing her hand. “I should have done more to protect you both.”

“You’ve done everything you can, Mbulazi,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear I knew she felt. “We’ll get through this. We always do.”

As I sat there with my wife and daughter, I felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on me. I had spent years building my empire, making a name for myself, but now I realized that none of that mattered if I couldn’t protect my family. Phiwokuhle wasn’t just the future of the Khumalo dynasty; she was my heart, and I would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

“From now on, we move differently,” I said firmly, making a silent vow to myself. “No more public appearances. We’ll keep her out of the spotlight as much as we can.”

Hlelo nodded, her eyes filled with determination. “We’ll protect her, BabakaPhiwo. We’ll protect our family.”

I leaned forward and kissed her softly, feeling the weight of her love and support. We were in this together, and I knew that no matter what came our way, we would face it as a united front.

“Ngiyabonga, njabulo yami,” I whispered, feeling grateful for her strength. I looked down at Phiwokuhle, who had fallen asleep in Hlelo’s arms, completely unaware of the storm brewing around her.

“I love you both more than anything,” I said, my voice firm. “And I will never let anyone harm our family.”

As I stood up to make the necessary calls, I glanced out the window, watching the world continue to spin outside. But inside our home, I was determined to build a fortress of safety and love around my wife and daughter. Nothing would ever come between us—not the media, not the attention, and certainly not the threats that came with being a Khumalo.