The return flight to Lagos felt longer than it was.
Zaria sat in the private jet, fingers clenched tightly around a glass of water, her mind spiralling with every word Madam Essi had said. Her heart was heavy, her chest full of confusion—and anger.
Darius had sworn to protect her. But how could he protect her from a truth he may have helped bury?
By the time they landed, Lagos was drenched in soft dusk, the city's skyline glowing gold against the evening haze. Darius was waiting at the private terminal, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable.
She walked past the flight staff and straight into his space, not caring who was watching.
"We need to talk," she said coldly.
His brows knit. "What happened?"
"Did you know?" she demanded. "Did you know who my mother was?"
The question hit him like a slap.
He didn't speak right away. Didn't blink.
Zaria stepped closer, her voice trembling with fury. "Essi told me. In Ghana. My mother was your father's child. Your cousin. All this time, I thought I was just the outsider, the charity case you fell in love with. But I am an Okonkwo. And you didn't think to tell me?"
Darius exhaled sharply. He looked away, jaw tight.
"I found out a year ago," he said finally. "After my father's death. There were letters. Bank records. My father paid her off to stay silent."
Zaria's heart dropped.
"You knew... before I was even pregnant?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you say anything?" she cried. "Why let me believe I didn't belong?"
"Because I didn't want you tied to that legacy," he said. "The Okonkwo name is poison, Zaria. It destroys people. Look at Ayo. Look at my father's trail of secrets. I wanted us to build something new—on our terms."
"But you took my choice," she said, voice cracking. "You let me walk blind into this storm."
He moved closer. "I did it to protect you."
"No. You did it to protect your control."
Those words hung between them like a knife.
Darius looked gutted. "I love you."
She shook her head. "You don't get to say that when you're hiding the truth."
She turned, walking to the car without waiting for him.
---
That night, Zaria sat alone on the edge of their bed, staring at the pregnancy journal she'd been writing in.
Every page was filled with hope—dreams about their future, letters to the baby, plans for their first Christmas. And now, it all felt shaky, uncertain.
Her entire identity had shifted.
She was not just a girl from Bariga who'd fallen into the lap of wealth. She was blood. Born of the very empire that had tried to silence her.
She put a hand on her belly.
"You're more than anyone expected," she whispered. "And so am I."
The door creaked open. Darius stood there, his face hollow.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said.
Zaria didn't look at him. "You already did."
He stepped closer, kneeling at her feet.
"I'll fix it."
"You can't fix blood, Darius. It's already written."
"But we can choose what we build with it," he said, his voice quiet.
Zaria met his gaze finally. "Then prove it."
He nodded.
"I will."