I take the flute from the tray without breaking stride, slipping into the role I came to play—a woman who belongs here. Someone who isn't unraveling inside.
From the corner of my eye, I track Ayo as he moves through a circle of high-ranking officials. Polished, composed. The perfect heir to the Oladipo empire.
I remember when he swore he didn't want this life. When he promised me he'd never become his father.
Another lie.
"You're making it too obvious."
Tola's voice hums in my earpiece, teasing.
I press a finger to my temple. "I'm doing my job."
"Uh-huh. And is your job to mentally undress him, or…?"
I grit my teeth. "Shut up, Tola."
She chuckles. "Relax. I'm scanning the east wing. VIP room looks promising—bet anything the real dirt's in there. If you can keep Ayo distracted—"
"I'm not flirting with him," I snap.
"Who said anything about flirting?" Amusement colors her tone. "But if you wanted to get him alone, I wouldn't judge."
I don't respond. Because the thought of being alone with Ayo is the one thing I can't afford to want.
And yet—
My body betrays me when he moves closer.
He's only feet away now, speaking with a senator buried in the oil industry's corruption. If I get close enough, I might catch something useful.
I slip through the crowd, closing the distance.
"…handled," Ayo is saying, voice smooth but firm. "There won't be any leaks. Everything's under control."
My stomach twists.
"Are you sure about that, Mr. Oladipo?"
His shoulders tense. When he turns, I know I've crossed a line.
He studies me, slow and deliberate, like he's trying to figure out how I got here.
"Zara." His voice is lower than I remember, rougher. "Didn't realize you were invited."
I give him my best smile. "Surprise."
He doesn't smile back.
The senator clears his throat and excuses himself, leaving us alone.
"Impressive," Ayo says, voice laced with sarcasm. "The Daily Report must be thriving if they're sending you to charity galas."
I tilt my head. "I go where the story takes me."
"And what story is that?" His voice lowers. "Or are you here for something else?"
My heart slams against my ribs. I should walk away. But the part of me that still aches for him? That part wants to push back.
"I could ask you the same thing," I say, stepping closer. "What happened to you, Ayo? When did you start signing death warrants?"
The smooth mask slips—just for a fraction of a second.
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" My voice sharpens. "Five children are dead because of your company's negligence. You had nothing to do with that?"
His jaw tightens, then smooths.
"You're still the same," he murmurs. "Always ready to believe the worst of me."
I laugh, but it's humorless. "You gave me every reason to."
The gala swirls around us—music, laughter, power shifting hands—but in this moment, nothing exists except him and me.
Ayo steps closer, voice low. "If you want the truth, Zara…" His gaze pins me in place. "You won't find it in a folder. You'll have to come a little closer."
The challenge hangs between us, daring me to cross a line I swore I wouldn't.
And God help me, I'm tempted.
I sway, just enough for my body to brush his arm.
His hand moves instinctively to steady me, firm and familiar against my waist.
I let out a shaky breath. "I— I'm fine," I murmur, pretending to catch myself. "Just… got a little dizzy."
Not a lie. Not entirely. I've always had low iron. And being this close to him? It's enough to make anyone lightheaded.
His expression softens for half a heartbeat. The polished mask slips. Beneath it is the boy who once held me through nights when the world felt too heavy.
"You're still not taking care of yourself," he mutters.
I lean in just enough to push his buttons. "Old habits die hard."
His hand hovers near my cheek—
"Zara."
Tola's voice crackles in my earpiece. "Get a grip, lover girl. You're on the clock."
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting.
Ayo's eyes narrow slightly, like he senses I'm hiding something. Before he can ask, I give him a soft smile.
"I should get back."
His hand lingers before he lets me go. And as I step back, I slip his keycard from his pocket.
He doesn't notice.
Because the only thing he's watching—
Is me.
"See you around, Mr. Oladipo."
I turn and disappear into the crowd.
⸻
The east wing is quieter, the gala's hum fading behind me.
I swipe the keycard against the lock. It flashes green.
"Piece of cake," Tola hums.
The office is pure Ayo—clean lines, dark wood, designed to intimidate.
But I'm not here for decor.
"Secondary lock panel," I whisper, crouching by the desk. "Touchscreen. Biometric."
Tola whistles. "Oladipo Junior doesn't play. But lucky for you, neither do I. Give me thirty seconds."
I tap my fingers, adrenaline spiking.
"Got it. You're in."
The lock hisses open. Files sit inside—meticulous, sterile. The deeper I dig, the more frustrated I get.
"Anything juicy?"
I flip through another folder. "Nothing linking him to the explosion."
"Damn. Wrap it up. You've got less than two minutes before someone—"
Her voice cuts off as my gaze snags on something.
A gift box.
Not just any gift box.
The one I gave Ayo on his 23rd birthday. Mahogany wood, handcrafted. Back when I thought we had a future.
My pulse pounds.
"Tola…" My voice is barely above a whisper. "Why would he still have this?"
"Zara, don't. Your time's up—get out."
I don't listen.
Tugging the box aside, I find a plain folder hidden behind it. No labels. No corporate gloss.
Just secrets.
"I'm opening it."
"Zara, seriously—leave now."
But I can't. Not until I know.
I flip the folder open.
Bank transfers. Private accounts. One name, over and over again.
Ayo.
Not his father. Him.
The weight of it crashes into me.
He's not innocent.
He's not a victim.
He's in this—deep.
"Zara, someone's coming," Tola hisses. "Move, now!"
I shove the papers back and whirl toward the door—
Too late.
Ayo stands there, shadowed in the doorway, his eyes locked on me.
"You shouldn't be here," he says quietly.
But the unspoken question is louder—
What the hell are you doing, Zara?
The file burns in my hands.
I could lie. I should lie.
But something in his expression tells me…
He already knows.