Thiana woke to silence—cold, bitter silence.
Not the peaceful kind. The kind that stretched across walls like accusation. Outside, Lagos had begun its daily hustle, but inside the Cabello estate, the world remained hushed. Still. Watching.
Her body ached in places she hadn't noticed the night before—wrists slightly bruised, thighs sore from impact, heart battered and raw. She sat up slowly in the oversized silk bed, sheets tangled like evidence of unrest. Zade's guest room felt too pristine for what she carried inside.
Memories of the gala flooded back in fragments: the stage, her name, the screen, the bathroom, the fists, the rescue, the ride home. She could still smell the citrus cologne Zade wore, layered beneath the sharp tang of violence.
Her phone buzzed.
LAWRENCE: Are you okay?
She stared at the message. "Okay" was too small a word. She was unraveling. Not just emotionally—strategically. Zade had flipped the board. And now Lawrence was waiting for her next move like a knight hoping to be crowned king.
Thiana threw on a hoodie and jeans—no makeup, no heels. She wasn't going to pretend anymore. As she walked into the estate's library, she found Zade seated at the far end, sipping dark roast and reading a file like the world hadn't shifted last night.
He looked up.
"You slept."
"I didn't thank you," she said.
He tilted his head slightly. "You didn't have to."
"I also didn't ask for any of this."
Now Zade smiled—the kind that barely touched his lips.
"No one asks for war. But they still have to choose their weapons."
She sat across from him. "Why are you doing this?"
Zade set the mug down with precision, fingertips grazing ceramic like he was tracing time. "Because you forgot who I am. You tried to erase me."
Her voice cracked. "I was surviving."
"No," he said. "You were escaping."
Silence filled the space between them.
Thiana broke it. "You're hurting me to prove a point."
Zade's gaze sharpened. "I saved you last night. Or did you forget that already?"
Her breath hitched.
"Then let me go."
Zade leaned back, fingers steepled. "Not yet."
Later that day, she returned to the penthouse she once called home. The staff had stopped greeting her like royalty—they weren't sure whose name carried weight anymore.
Her lawyer was already waiting in the living room, papers spread out across the glass coffee table.
"You should see this," he said gravely.
Thiana's eyes scanned the legal documents—her shareholdings in Cabello & Sons had been altered again. Backdated. And Zade's signature was nowhere to be found.
"These are forged," she whispered.
Her lawyer shook his head. "They're valid. It's Clause 47. You unknowingly surrendered your rights."
Thiana sank into the armchair, head spinning.
"Then I'm… his?"
"In terms of corporate ownership?" he paused. "Yes."
She clenched her fists. "This isn't just power play. He's caging me."
"There's one option," he said. "Counter-sue for coercion. But if he releases proof you signed voluntarily…"
"It'll ruin me."
The lawyer nodded. "He's five steps ahead."
She left in a haze and drove to Lawrence's.
He greeted her with concern—but also calculation. She could read it in his eyes. He wasn't here just to comfort. He wanted intel. Leverage. Her brokenness made her an asset again.
She didn't care.
"I want to leave," she said. "I want to disappear."
Lawrence poured her a drink and sat beside her. "That's not escape. That's surrender."
"You think I should stay?"
"I think you should fight."
Thiana looked into his eyes—deep, unreadable, but familiar. He was dangerous too. Just cloaked differently.
"I can't do it alone."
"Then don't," he said. "Let me help you."
She breathed. "What do you want in return?"
Lawrence smiled slowly. "Just truth. The whole truth."
She should've been scared.
Instead… she felt seen.
Back at Cabello estate, Zade stared at a new file in his hand—evidence of Lawrence's offshore accounts, his communications with an anonymous source, his plans to destabilize Cabello stock.
He knew Lawrence was circling like a vulture.
He just didn't expect Thiana to fly into his arms.
It made Zade restless.
Unforgiving.
And ruthless.
Three days passed.
Thiana didn't return to Zade's estate. Not physically. But he sent her things—a bouquet of black roses, a velvet box with a pen inside, and a letter.
Use this to sign your loyalty. Nothing else matters.
She shredded the note, but kept the pen.
She didn't know why.
Maybe part of her wanted to belong to something again.
Even if it was hell.
On the sixth day, Zade summoned her.
It wasn't a request.
A black car waited outside her building, engine rumbling, driver suited.
Thiana climbed in, dressed in all black.
Inside the Cabello underground chambers, she faced Zade beneath flickering chandeliers and burning candlelight.
"Welcome to the truth," he said.
Then he showed her everything.
Maps.
Photographs.
Archives of weapons, deals, syndicate contracts, bloodied pasts, bribes, surveillance footage, courtroom transcripts—all with Zade's name buried deep.
Thiana's stomach turned.
"You run a criminal empire," she said.
Zade nodded. "I run a legacy."
"You're insane."
"No," he stepped closer. "I'm real. And now, you are too."
She backed away.
But he followed.
"You want to run?" Zade said quietly. "Then sign the contract. My contract. As my slave."
Thiana's voice was a whisper. "Why would I ever agree?"
Zade looked her dead in the eye.
"Because you want to feel safe again. And power is the only safety left."