The first thing Amara noticed when she woke wasn't the soft morning light pressing through the curtains, or the faint hum of the city outside the estate.
It was the sound of her phone.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
A constant vibration, like a trapped insect. She reached for it blindly, still half-asleep, her hand trembling before her mind even caught up.
And then the screen lit up.
Hundreds of messages. Dozens of missed calls. WhatsApp unread messages stacked on top of each other. Twitter, or X as it was now called, blowing up with tags. Instagram DMs overflowing.
Her heart sank before her eyes even found the reason.
She clicked the first link.
And froze.
The photo.
Her husband.
Tade.
Standing too close to Vanessa in a hotel lobby. His hand hovering, almost but not quite pressed against her back. Her face tilted toward his ear like she was whispering something only for him. The flash of intimacy in the frame was impossible to deny.
Bold, screaming headlines glared beneath it:
"EXCLUSIVE: Billionaire Tade Adeyemi Spotted With Ex, Vanessa!"
"Where Was His Wife?"
"Contract Marriage Collapsing Already?"
Her fingers went numb. The phone slipped and hit the duvet with a soft thud.
"No…" The word escaped in a breathy whisper. She pressed a hand to her mouth. "No, this can't..."
But it was.
The image seared itself into her mind, sharper than fire.
Another buzz. Another notification.
This time, an unknown number.
With dread prickling her skin, she opened it.
The same photo, cropped tighter. Vanessa's smile. Tade's half-turned face. The space between them looking intimate, dangerous.
And a single line beneath it:
"You can't win, Amara."
Her throat closed. The walls of the bedroom seemed to tilt.
She didn't even hear the door until it opened.
Tade. His tie undone, his face drawn with exhaustion.
She shot upright, phone clutched in her fist like a weapon.
"Where were you last night?" Her voice cracked even though she tried to keep it steady.
He blinked, surprised. "At the office. What's going on?"
She shoved the phone toward him. "Then explain this!"
He took it. His eyes scanned the screen. For a heartbeat, his jaw tightened, his thumb hovering over the photo like he wanted to crush it through the glass.
"This is bullshit," he said finally, his voice flat.
Her chest heaved. "Bullshit? Tade, the entire internet has seen this. I woke up to my life on fire. Do you even know what that feels like? To see your husband plastered across gossip blogs with his ex?"
His eyes snapped up, dark and sharp. "Do you honestly think I'd sneak around with Vanessa? In a hotel lobby? In public?"
Her throat burned. "Do I think you're stupid? No. Do I think you still care about her? I don't know anymore."
The words hung there. Heavy. Poisonous.
He dropped the phone on the dresser with deliberate precision. "You should know me better than that."
"Do I?" she whispered.
For a second, his mask cracked, something raw flashed across his face. Hurt? Anger? She couldn't tell. It was gone in an instant.
"We'll get PR on this," he muttered, already reaching for his jacket. "They'll handle it."
Her heart split at the coldness. "That's it? A statement? A spin? What about me, Tade? What about your wife?"
He paused at the door, shoulders rigid. "Don't make this harder than it already is."
And then he left.
The rest of the morning bled together in a haze.
Her phone wouldn't stop.
Calls from her mother, her cousin, even classmates she hadn't spoken to in years. Some were gentle, pitying: "Amara, my dear, are you okay? We saw the news…" Others came sharp and cutting: "I told you not to trust him. I told you."
By noon, the paparazzi had swarmed the gates. Long-lensed cameras glinted through the bars like watchful eyes. Even drones buzzed overhead, snapping aerial shots of the mansion.
Online, hashtags trended mercilessly: #TadeAndVanessa. #PoorAmara. #AdeyemiScandal.
Some strangers pitied her, painting her as the naive wife who thought she could tame a billionaire. Others mocked her, calling her gullible, desperate, a placeholder until Vanessa returned.
She drew the curtains and curled up on the sofa, hugging her knees until they hurt. The walls pressed in like a cage.
Evening fell.
The door opened. Tade walked in. His expression unreadable, carved from stone.
"We need to make a statement," he said. No greeting. No softness. Just business.
Amara let out a bitter laugh. "Of course. Another performance. Another act for the world to watch."
"This isn't a game, Amara. My company..."
"Your company?" Her voice broke, rising sharp. "What about our marriage? Or is that just another company to you?"
He froze, eyes narrowing. For the first time all day, anger cracked through his mask.
"Careful," he warned, low and hard.
She met his glare through a blur of tears. "No. You be careful. Because if this is all my life is going to be, lies, humiliation, then maybe I don't want it anymore."
The words shook, but she didn't take them back.
The silence that followed pressed like a weight on her chest.
His fists clenched at his sides. His chest rose and fell. But he didn't argue. Didn't explain. Didn't reach for her.
Instead, he turned. Walked out. Slammed the door so hard the frame rattled.
The sound echoed through the hollow mansion long after he was gone.
That night, Amara lay awake in the too-big bed, staring at the ceiling until her eyes blurred. Her phone lay on the pillow beside her like a ticking bomb.
Buzz.
Her body jolted.
Another unknown number.
She hesitated before opening it.
Her chest constricted the moment the video loaded.
Grainy. Shaky. But clear enough.
Tade. Vanessa. The same hotel lobby. This time not just standing close.
Vanessa leaned in. Her lips brushed against his cheek. The angle was damning, intimate, a kiss caught in bad lighting.
And beneath the video, a single line of text:
"If you think the photo was bad, wait until the world sees this."
Her stomach lurched. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
This wasn't just gossip anymore.
It wasn't just scandal.
It was war.