Sleep refused to come.
Zainab didn't even try anymore.
She sat on the edge of her bed, staring into nothing, her eyes dry despite the storm inside her chest.
The mansion was not the same.
It no longer felt like a place where people lived.
It felt like a place where something was waiting.
Watching.
Breathing.
Tension hung in the air like smoke.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Servants moved quietly through the halls, their footsteps soft, their voices reduced to whispers.
No one laughed.
No one spoke freely.
Even fear had become silent.
Downstairs, Kabiru's voice echoed faintly as he made call after call.
His tone urgent, demanding, desperate .
Each conversation ended the same way
With no answers.
And Safiya…
Zainab's jaw tightened.
Safiya had cried earlier.
Loudly.
Dramatically.
Falling into chairs, covering her face, calling Ibrahim's name like a grieving lover.
Anyone watching would believe her.
Anyone…
Except Zainab.
Because Zainab had seen something others hadn't.
A crack, a moment, a flicker of truth behind the performance.
Now, Zainab couldn't cry.
Her tears were gone,Used up.
All that remained was fear.
And guilt.
"If I never found that bag" she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.
"none of this would have happened."
But even as she said it…
She knew it wasn't true.
This story…
Had started long before her.
She just walked into it.
Unable to stay still, Zainab stood up and stepped into the hallway.
The silence greeted her immediately.
Cold.
Unwelcoming.
She didn't know where she was going.
She just needed space.
Air.
Anything to escape the weight pressing down on her chest.
Her steps were slow.
Careful.
Almost hesitant.
Then she saw it.
A door.
Slightly open.
Ibrahim's office.
Zainab stopped.
Her heart beat faster.
She shouldn't go in.
She knew that.
But something pulled her forward.
Something stronger than fear.
Truth.
She pushed the door open gently and stepped inside.
The room smelled faintly of paper and something else.
Perfume.
Soft, familiar.
Zainab's chest tightened.
Safiya.
Her eyes moved slowly around the room.
Everything was in place.
Organized.
Untouched.
Except for one thing.
The chair.
Empty.
A reminder.
A painful one.
Her gaze shifted to the desk.
The laptop sat there, closed but present.
Waiting.
Like its owner would return at any moment.
Zainab walked toward it slowly.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Then she noticed something on the shelf beside the desk.
A photograph.
She reached for it carefully.
Ibrahim and his mother.
He looked younger.
Lighter.
Happier.
A version of him untouched by everything happening now.
Zainab's eyes filled slightly.
Not with tears.
But with something deeper.
"Please come back" she whispered softly.
Her voice disappeared into the silence.
Then her attention shifted, a drawer slightly open.Just enough to be noticed.
Zainab stared at it for a moment.
Her instincts stirred.
Something wasn't right.
Slowly…
She reached out.
And pulled it open.
Her breath stopped.
Inside was a file.
Neatly placed.
Carefully hidden.
And on the cover…
A name.
SAFIYA USMAN
Zainab's heart slammed hard against her chest.
Why?
Why would Ibrahim have a file on Safiya?
Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.
For a second she hesitated because she knew whatever was inside would change everything.
Still she opened it, inside were documents.
Official detailed bank transactions.large amounts transferred repeatedly to unknown accounts.
Zainab frowned.
Her confusion deepened.
Then photograph slipped slightly from between the papers.
She pulled it out.
And froze.
Her eyes widened in horror.
Safiya.
Standing beside a man.
A man Zainab recognized instantly.
Her heart skipped.
The warehouse.
He had been there.
One of the masked men.
One of the kidnappers.
Zainab's hands began to shake violently.
"No" she whispered.
Safiya knew them.
Not just knew them.
She was connected to them.
Working with them.
Zainab's breathing became uneven, fast, unstable. This wasn't jealousy, this wasn't a coincidence, this was betrayal. That was
Deeply planned and dangerous .Then
Another document caught her eye.
A medical report.
Zainab picked it up slowly.
Her eyes scanned the words.
And then she stopped.
Her body went completely still.
PATERNITY RESULT: IBRAHIM DANJUMA IS NOT THE FATHER.
The paper slipped slightly in her grip.
Her mind struggled to catch up.
Not the father?
Father of who?
Her heartbeat became louder.
Faster.
She flipped through the file quickly.
Desperately.
Another document.
PREGNANCY CONFIRMATION REPORT – SAFIYA USMAN.
Zainab gasped.
Everything clicked.
Safiya was pregnant.
But the child…
Was not Ibrahim's.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
This was bigger than she imagined.
Bigger than the kidnapping.
This was a web of lies.
Deception.
Control.
And if Safiya knew, if she even suspected
Zainab wouldn't survive it.
Panic surged through her.
Quickly, she began to put everything back.
Her movements rushed, unsteady
The file, the papers, the drawer
Then a voice behind her soft, calm and cold
"Looking for something?"
Zainab froze.
Slowly she turned.
And her heart nearly stopped.
Safiya stood at the door.
Watching her.
Smiling.
Not the fake smile.
Not the polite one.
This one was real.
And it was terrifying.
Because it held no warmth.
No kindness.
No mercy.
Only control.
Only danger.
And in her hand was a gun