Of course! Here's the next chapter
It started with a whisper on Twitter.
Then a blurry video clip posted by a blogger.
And by midday, it had spread like wildfire across every gossip site in the country.
"Naledi Mokoena Confronts Zaria Bello at Women's Foundation Launch"
Zaria stood in the centre of the gala hall, frozen.
Everything had been perfect only minutes ago.
The banners were up. The venue was sparkling. Her foundation's launch—the first step toward giving back to young single mothers—was finally happening. A dream born out of her own struggle.
Then Naledi arrived.
No invitation.
No warning.
Just a body-hugging red dress, designer sunglasses, and a smirk that said: I came for war.
The security team tried to stop her at the door, but she breezed past them like she owned the place.
And now, here she stood—right in front of Zaria—eyes filled with fire.
"You wear the crown so easily," Naledi said loudly, her voice carrying. "Tell me, how does it feel knowing everything you have was stolen?"
Gasps echoed. Phones rose. Cameras flashed.
Zaria's throat tightened. But she didn't flinch.
"Naledi," she said calmly. "This is neither the time nor the place."
"Oh, I think it's exactly the place," Naledi snapped. "A women's foundation built on the back of another woman's pain? That's rich. You think I'm going to let you waltz into society, belly full and eyes sparkling, while I'm left in your shadow?"
Zaria glanced around. Donors. Journalists. Activists. Young girls who'd come to be inspired. All staring. Waiting.
She could feel her baby kick gently, as if sensing the tension.
Zaria stepped forward slowly.
"I understand you're hurt," she said, her voice even. "But I won't let you turn this night into a circus."
Naledi narrowed her eyes. "You really believe you're better than me?"
"No," Zaria replied. "But I know I'm not your enemy. And neither is this baby."
Naledi blinked. Just once. Then, for a moment, her face cracked—pain visible behind the performance.
"You took everything from me," she whispered, lower now. "I gave him years."
"I didn't take," Zaria said quietly. "He left. That was his choice. And if I had been in your shoes, I'd be hurting too."
Something shifted in the room.
Zaria reached into her clutch and pulled out the mic. She hadn't planned to speak yet, but life rarely waited for scripts.
"I want to apologise to every woman who has ever been silenced," she began, facing the room. "This foundation isn't about painting myself as perfect. It's about healing. I was broken too. I still am. But I believe our scars can shape the world—if we let them."
People listened. Some nodded. Some looked like they wanted to cry.
"I don't stand here as a billionaire's partner," Zaria continued. "I stand as a girl who nearly gave up. A woman who found her voice. And a mother determined to help others do the same."
The applause started slowly.
Then it swelled—loud, rising, undeniable.
Naledi stood still for a moment longer, trembling. Then, without another word, she turned and walked out.
Zaria didn't chase her.
Later that night, back at the mansion, Darius held her on the balcony, both of them wrapped in silence.
"You handled it better than I would have," he said.
Zaria rested her head against his chest. "It's not about winning."
"What is it about then?"
"Releasing the past. Even when it clings."
He looked down at her belly, then back at her.
"You're going to be an incredible mother," he said.
She smiled faintly. "I already am."