Chapter 16

Morning crept in lazily, sunrays filtering gently through the curtains in Zara’s room. She hadn’t slept much—her eyes were tired, her mind heavier. The message from the night before still echoed in her head. Regan’s indifferent response stung more than she cared to admit.

A soft knock sounded at the door, followed by Kemi’s voice. “Babe, it’s me.”

Zara rose from the bed slowly, unlocked the door, and went back to her corner on the floor, sitting cross-legged in her oversized hoodie. Kemi stepped in with a nylon bag of suya and soft drinks.

“I figured you hadn’t eaten anything solid in days,” Kemi said, settling beside her. “You’ve been ghosting reality.”

Zara let out a small laugh. “I’m not even sure if I’m still in reality or some twisted N*****x series.”

Kemi passed her a suya stick. “So what exactly did the stalker say this time?”

Zara grabbed her phone and scrolled to the message, handing it over. Kemi read the words slowly:

“You looked lovely in red yesterday. Shame Regan didn’t notice.”

Kemi’s eyes widened. “What the hell? This person is WATCHING you, girl.”

“I know,” Zara muttered. “And when I told Regan, he just said, ‘Then block the number.’ Can you imagine? As if that solves anything.”

Kemi’s eyes widened. “What the hell? This person is WATCHING you, girl.”

“I know,” Zara muttered. “And when I told Regan, he just said, ‘Then block the number.’ Can you imagine? As if that solves anything.”

Kemi sighed and leaned back. “Honestly? I’m starting to think Regan might be behind all this.”

Zara blinked. “Regan?”

“Yeah. Think about it. He’s always acting weird, hot and cold. One minute he’s all protective, the next he couldn’t care less. Maybe he’s trying to mess with your head.”

Zara looked down at her hands. “But… what would he gain from that?”

Kemi shrugged. “Control, maybe. Or maybe he’s trying to push you into something. Some guys are twisted like that.”

Zara stared blankly ahead. “That’d be really low.”

“Exactly why we shouldn’t rule it out,” Kemi said. “He might be pretending he doesn’t care just to throw you off.”

Zara fell silent, the wheels turning in her head.

Kemi turned to her. “We need to start documenting everything—screenshots, calls, times, everything. If this escalates, we’ll need evidence.”

“Who would even believe me?” Zara asked. “Everyone thinks I’m just some spoiled rich kid who doesn’t want to settle down.”

“Let them think whatever,” Kemi replied firmly. “You’re not crazy, and we’re going to figure this out.”

They sat in silence for a moment, chewing slowly. The air felt heavier today.

Downstairs, Mr. Tunde entered his study and received a call. The voice on the other end was calm, calculated.

“She’s talking too much, sir. Should we change tactics?”

“No,” Mr. Tunde replied sharply. “Don’t touch her. Just scare her enough to keep her distracted. And no more texting when it’s unnecessary. Mr. Kareem doesn’t want things traced.”

There was a long pause before the voice responded, “Understood.”

Meanwhile, Regan sat at his desk at the office, going through files. His mind wasn’t on work. It hadn’t been for days. He tapped his pen repeatedly, staring at the last message Zara mentioned. It didn’t sound like Imani—at least, not entirely. But she could be pretending. Or maybe… there was someone else involved.

His phone vibrated.

Imani: I told you I wasn’t behind it. Stop treating me like your little villain.

Regan ignored the message. He picked up his phone and typed a new message to Zara, then paused… and deleted it. What was he even going to say? That he was sorry? That he didn’t know how to handle this marriage thing? That he might actually care… even a little?

No. It was better this way. Let her think he didn’t care. Feelings only complicated things.

At home, Zara and Kemi began scrolling through Zara’s gallery, trying to find decent photos to post and build her modeling portfolio again.

“Why not start a fake email?” Kemi suggested. “Use it to reply that Paris agency. Something lowkey so your dad won’t trace it.”

Zara nodded slowly, her eyes lighting up a bit. “You’re right. I’ll use your address as my reply email. That way, he won’t know anything.”

Kemi smirked. “See? That’s my girl.”

Just as they began sorting through more pictures, Zara’s phone buzzed again. Another message from the anonymous number.

“Don’t get too comfortable. The game hasn’t even started.”

Zara’s fingers trembled. Kemi snatched the phone.

“Oh, now I’m pissed,” she muttered. “This person wants war.”

Zara locked her phone and stared at the wall in silence.

Kemi turned to her. “You still want to chase this modeling dream?”

Zara looked at her, determination slowly returning to her eyes. “Now more than ever.”

Zara sat on her bed long after Kemi had left, her fingers clutching the edge of her duvet, her eyes glued to her phone screen. She had already blocked the number as Regan suggested, but a strange unease still curled in her chest.

She bit her lip, debating with herself. Finally, she reopened the blocked messages and read them again. The stalker hadn’t sent anything new, but the earlier message was enough to keep her mind spinning.

“I see you kept the curls today. Beautiful, as always.”

She shivered.

A knock on her door jolted her.

It wasn’t forceful—just a gentle rap. But in that moment, her breath caught in her throat.

“Zara, it’s me,” her mother’s voice came softly.

Zara exhaled and got up to open the door. Her mother stepped in with a small tray—tea and two slices of bread with jam.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table.

“Thanks, Mum,” Zara mumbled.

Her mother sat beside her on the bed. “I saw your face today. After you talked to your father.”

Zara didn’t reply.

“You’re still scared, aren’t you?”

Zara’s lips trembled. “It’s not just the job anymore, Mum. Someone’s watching me. Sending creepy texts.”

Her mother stiffened. “What?”

“I don’t know who it is. But the texts… it’s like they know everything I’m doing. What I wear, where I go. It’s like they’re always there.”

Her mother looked visibly shaken. “Have you told your father?”

Zara shook her head. “He won’t care. And Regan? He doesn’t even believe it’s serious.”

“Then we’ll go to the police,” her mother said firmly.

Zara looked at her, eyes wide. “Really?”

Her mother nodded. “You’re my only child, Zara. Whatever your father thinks, your safety matters more. I’ll talk to him. If he refuses, I’ll go myself.”

Zara reached over and hugged her tightly, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

After her mother left, Zara picked up her phone again, staring at the blank message screen. She hesitated, then opened her gallery. She scrolled through her engagement pictures—the public ones posted by their families online. That was likely how the stalker knew her face so well. That thought alone was enough to make her skin crawl.

Then, just as she was about to put her phone down, a new message popped up from an unknown number.

“Sleep tight, sunshine. You’ve had a long day.”

Zara’s heart pounded. Her throat went dry.

She stared at the message, her fingers trembling.

Who the hell was this person?

And why did they know so much?