The next morning began with sunshine and tension.
Zaria stood in the upstairs hallway, dressed in a soft linen gown that the housekeeper, Madam Yejide, had pressed for her. Her belly was beginning to curve now—subtle, but undeniable. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the hall mirrors and paused.
A quiet smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
This child, this unexpected blessing, was growing stronger. She could feel it. A presence. A purpose.
She rubbed her stomach gently, whispering, "You're not alone. I'm with you. No matter what."
But downstairs, trouble was brewing.
She heard it first in the tone of Madam Yejide's voice—low and sharp, speaking to someone at the front door.
Then came the louder voice. A woman. Confident. Disrespectful. Bold in that way only people who knew they had power could be.
Zaria took the stairs slowly, unsure of what she was walking into.
She reached the final step just as the front door opened wider—and in walked a woman dressed in designer clothes, high heels clicking against the marble floor like war drums.
Her skin was the color of roasted cashew, her weave long and straight, face flawless with expertly applied makeup. Her lips curled into a smirk when her eyes landed on Zaria.
"Well, well," she said, dragging her eyes over Zaria's form. "So you're the village girl that managed to trap Darius Okechukwu."
Zaria blinked.
"Excuse me?"
The woman scoffed. "Don't pretend you don't know who I am. Or maybe Darius never told you about me. Typical."
Before Zaria could respond, Darius's voice echoed from behind.
"Stephanie."
Zaria turned.
Darius stood by the base of the stairs now, jaw clenched, anger tightening his usually calm features.
The woman turned slowly to face him.
"You didn't return my calls," she said.
"There's a reason for that."
She laughed. It was not a nice sound.
"Right. Because you're busy playing house with your little accident."
Zaria's blood went cold.
Darius stepped forward. "Don't speak to her like that."
"Oh? So now you defend her?" Stephanie sneered. "When it was me you were engaged to just last year?"
Zaria's world tilted slightly.
Engaged?
Stephanie turned back to her, arms crossed. "He never told you? That we were together for three years? That his mother blessed our union before she died? That he proposed with a ring worth ten million naira?"
Zaria stared at Darius, her heart thudding hard against her ribs.
He looked tired. Cornered.
"It ended a long time ago," he said to Zaria. "Stephanie and I—"
Stephanie cut in, her voice ice-cold. "It ended because you chose your empire over your heart. And now you've brought this girl into your house like she means something?"
"She's carrying my child," Darius said, voice low but dangerous.
Stephanie's eyes flashed. "So that's what it takes to get your attention? A baby?"
Zaria had heard enough.
She stepped forward, chin high, even though her insides were shaking.
"Whatever history you two have, it's none of my business," she said firmly. "I didn't ask to be here. I didn't plan this pregnancy. But I'm not ashamed of it."
Stephanie's lip curled. "You should be."
"And you should leave," Darius said sharply. "Now."
Stephanie glared at them both, then grabbed her clutch and stormed out, heels echoing like gunshots.
The door slammed behind her.
Silence.
Zaria turned to Darius. "You were engaged?"
"Yes," he said. "Two years ago. It didn't work. She was more interested in the title than the man."
"Did you love her?"
A long pause.
"No. I thought I would. But I never did."
Zaria nodded slowly, processing.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He sighed. "Because I didn't think it mattered. Until now."
She swallowed hard. "Everything matters, Darius. Especially now."
He looked at her—really looked at her. And in his eyes was something she hadn't seen before.
Fear.
Not of her.
But of losing control.
---
Later that night, Zaria sat on the balcony outside her room, wrapped in a shawl. The air was cool. The moon full and glowing.
Her thoughts spun like a storm.
This man—this billionaire—had more baggage than she'd ever imagined. Secrets, regrets, shadows.
But he also had a heart. One that was scarred, yes—but still beating beneath all that armor.
She didn't know where this path would lead.
But she knew one thing.
The past had come knocking.
And next time, it might not walk away so easily.