Chapter 31

The morning sun poured weakly through the blinds, casting long slanted shadows across the room. Regan sat at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands tangled in his hair. He had barely slept a wink, haunted by everything that had unfolded the previous day — Zara’s angry words, Imani’s blackmail, and the mess his life was spiraling into.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand.

A new message.

He grabbed it, already expecting the worst.

But it was from Zara.

“I’m less angry now. If you still want to talk, I’m free this evening.”

Regan let out a slow breath. Relief and guilt warred inside him.

She was giving him another chance.

But he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

Just then, his phone buzzed. A message from Imani.

“See you today. Same time as last. 1 PM. Room 305. Don’t be late. Or don’t bother calling this child yours when he or she is born.”

Regan read the message twice, his jaw tightening.

He sighed and typed back,

“lol I would love that tho.”

It didn’t take Imani two seconds to respond.

“Oh really? But I’m not sure you would want the world to see you as a cheater, would you?”

Regan cursed under his breath, tossing the phone aside.

He knew exactly what she meant.

If Imani went public about their affair — about the pregnancy — everything would blow up. His father’s plans, the engagement to Zara, his reputation… all of it would be scorched beyond repair.

He raked a hand through his hair, feeling trapped once again.

No matter how much he hated Imani for it, he knew he had no choice.

He had to show up.

A call buzzed through — Imani.

He stared at the name flashing across the screen, his gut twisting painfully.

He knew ignoring her would only make things worse, so he answered.

“Hello,” he said stiffly.

“Morning, my love,” Imani’s voice was sickeningly sweet, laced with smugness. “Hope you slept well?”

Regan closed his eyes briefly, forcing patience into his tone. “What do you want, Imani?”

She chuckled. “Don’t be so cold. Anyway, just reminding you… we’re still meeting today. Eko Hotel. Room 305. Don’t be late.”

Regan rubbed his forehead. “Imani, I told you already — I have plans today.

“Oh, let me guess,” she said with a mocking laugh. “The princess? Your precious arranged fiancée?”

He said nothing, jaw tightening.

“Wow, Regan. So you’d rather go sip tea with your daddy’s chosen doll than check up on the woman carrying your first child?” Her voice shifted, becoming sharp and wounded. “Nice. Really, really nice.”

“Imani, please—”

please don’t start.

I have a business meeting today. It’s not about Zara.

And stop bringing her up in any conversation.”

Within seconds, Imani responded.

“Oh really? You have a business meeting? Cute.

But let’s not pretend, Regan.

Sooner or later, everything will come crashing down around you.

Tick tock, baby daddy.”

Regan stared at the screen, feeling like the ground beneath him was slowly splitting apart.

He hated that Imani had this power over him — this dark secret that could destroy everything he had been trying to rebuild with Zara.

He tossed the phone onto the bed, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Today was going to be hell.

An hour later, Regan drove toward Eko Hotel, his heart heavy with dread.

Everything inside him screamed that this was a terrible idea — but still, he went.

When he knocked on Room 305, the door creaked open almost immediately.

Imani stood there, wearing nothing but a skimpy satin robe tied loosely around her body, the swell of her breasts teasingly visible.

Regan looked away immediately. “Go and dress properly, Imani.”

She laughed lowly but turned around, deliberately swaying her hips as she walked back inside to throw on a long T-shirt and shorts.

“Happy now, Daddy-to-be?” she teased.

He stepped inside stiffly, refusing to sit.

“Why am I here, Imani? I’m busy.”

She sauntered toward him, closing the distance.

“You’re here because you owe me attention. You owe us attention,” she said, placing a hand on her flat stomach.

Regan crossed his arms. “Attention? What are you talking about?”

Imani pouted. “Regan, you think you can just go about your golden boy life, engaged and smiling for family pictures, while I’m carrying your heir?”

“Don’t call it that,” he said through gritted teeth.

She ignored him, stepping closer.

“I deserve to be treated like royalty. I’m the mother of your child. I should be getting flowers, gifts, weekly spa treatments… not loneliness.”

Regan exhaled sharply. “I’ll make sure you’re financially supported throughout this. But don’t expect anything beyond that, Imani. I’m getting married.”

Her eyes darkened. “Married? To that spoiled brat Zara? How sweet.”

She leaned closer, whispering into his ear, “Too bad you’ll never love her the way you loved me that night.”

Regan stiffened. His mind flashed back to that drunken night — or rather, to the black void where his memory should be.

“You’re manipulating everything,” he said coldly. “You know it.”

Imani laughed again, high and bitter. “Manipulating? Sweetheart, I didn’t pour the alcohol down your throat. I didn’t drag you into my bed.”

Regan said nothing, his fists clenching at his sides.

“And besides,” she added with a wicked smirk, “whether it’s yours or not, we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

His heart stopped cold in his chest.

“What did you just say?”

Imani only smiled, tapping his chin playfully. “Don’t overthink it, baby.”

He stared at her, breathing hard, a slow horror creeping up inside him.

Could it be… that the baby wasn’t even his?

Before he could recover, Imani moved closer again, brushing her body against his.

She was skilled — too skilled — her hand sliding low against his waistband.

He tried to resist, but his body betrayed him almost immediately.

Imani smiled triumphantly.

Moments later, they crashed onto the bed again.

He hated himself for it — hated how easily she could control him with a touch, a kiss, a memory.

Afterward, as he lay there staring at the ceiling, guilt gnawing at him like a beast, Imani nestled against him, smirking.

“Get used to it,” she said, trailing her fingers down his chest. “You’re mine now, Regan. Whether you like it or not.”

Regan closed his eyes in self-loathing.

How had he let it come to this?

Meanwhile, across town, Zara sat in her room staring at her phone, waiting for Regan’s response to her text.

Her heart sank deeper with every passing minute of silence.

Was he ignoring her again?

Was he… with someone else?

A thousand ugly thoughts flooded her mind.

She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to call him again.

She had already lowered her pride once. She wouldn’t beg for his attention twice.

Zara stood up, pacing her room.

“To hell with him,” she muttered. “Let him stay away for good if he wants.”

Later, Zara sat in the living room, flipping through a magazine aimlessly when her mother came in, holding a gold-embossed envelope.

“This came for you, darling,” her mom said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Zara took it cautiously, a strange feeling curling in her stomach.

She opened it slowly, carefully.

Inside was a formal invitation card:

You are cordially invited to an exclusive family dinner to announce the wedding date of Zara Tunde and Regan Kareem.

The words blurred for a second as her heart pounded in her ears.

It was real.

It was happening.

Marriage.

A life with Regan.

A man who hadn’t called.

A man who seemed to be slipping through her fingers.

She excused herself quickly and went upstairs.

In her room, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

The girl staring back wore the face of someone pretending to be happy.

But her eyes…

Her eyes betrayed everything.

The fear. The confusion. The heartbreak.

A sharp pain twisted in her chest.

Who exactly was she marrying?

And how much more could her heart take?