The morning sun filtered through the glass walls of the penthouse, but there was no warmth in the room. Amira sat at the edge of the sofa, clutching a mug of tea she hadn't touched in over twenty minutes. Her gaze lingered on the skyline, eyes unfocused, lips tight.
Idris stood across the room, fastening the last button of his black shirt. His usually composed face was pulled into a severe expression—controlled but deeply unsettled.
"Say something," she finally said, not turning to look at him. "You've been pacing all morning."
"We have less time than I thought," he replied quietly. "Frank's team intercepted another message. This time, it wasn't just a threat. It was a list."
Amira slowly turned. "A list of what?"
"People," Idris said, jaw clenching. "People close to me. My driver. My assistant. My chef. Even—" He paused, his voice thickening. "Even Sarah."
Amira stood, her voice rising. "He threatened your daughter?"
"He's not just threatening her. He's watching her."
"No," she said firmly, already moving toward the table. "We need to get her somewhere safe. Somewhere he can't reach."
"She's already en route to Geneva with her nanny and three guards. I arranged it last night," Idris said. "But that's not the point. He's tightening the noose, Amira. He's not trying to take my company. He's trying to dismantle my life piece by piece."
Amira set down her mug and crossed the room to him. "Then we stop letting him control the pace."
Idris raised an eyebrow. "You have something in mind?"
"Yes," she said, her eyes flaring with determination. "He wants to smoke you out. So let's flip the script. Let's bait him instead."
For a moment, Idris said nothing. Then slowly, a hint of a smile curved his lips. "You're braver than you give yourself credit for."
"I'm not brave," she said, lifting her chin. "I'm tired of being scared."
By noon, Amira's face appeared on the front page of several gossip blogs.
"Idris Aladeen's Mysterious Fiancée Steps into the Spotlight" one headline read. Another asked, "Who Is the Woman Who Melted the Coldest CEO in Lagos?"
It was calculated. Strategic. And completely orchestrated.
Frank had arranged the controlled media leak, with carefully staged photos of Amira accompanying Idris into an upscale gallery the night before. It was the first time they'd been seen publicly together.
"I thought you hated attention," Idris teased, watching her read through the comments.
"I still do," she replied. "But if putting a spotlight on me makes it harder for Daniel to act without being seen, then it's worth it."
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're remarkable."
Before she could respond, Frank's voice buzzed through the intercom. "Sir, we've traced a signal."
Idris pressed the receiver. "Talk."
"One of the calls to Miss Amira's line was made from a burner device purchased forty-eight hours ago from a kiosk in Yaba. But here's the twist—Daniel didn't make the purchase himself. He sent a woman."
Amira frowned. "A woman?"
"Yes. Blonde wig. Distorted face on the footage, but she used a card linked to a shell company—one that was dissolved five years ago but previously had ties to CrestTech."
"Meaning she's part of his old team," Idris said.
"Exactly. But that's not all. We tracked her car to a safehouse in Ikeja. Abandoned warehouse, minimal traffic, infrared shows at least two heat signatures inside."
"Gear up," Idris ordered. "We're going."
Amira grabbed his arm. "Wait. You can't just go barging in."
"I'm not. But I need to be there."
"Then I'm going too."
His eyes widened. "Absolutely not."
"You said we'd fight this together. If this is the climax, I'm not hiding."
He stared at her for a long moment, then finally gave a reluctant nod. "Fine. But you stay in the car. No arguments."
The warehouse loomed in the distance like a forgotten ruin, its rusted gates yawning open as if inviting them into a trap. Idris's convoy parked two blocks away, cloaked behind a bakery that had long been shut down.
From the backseat, Amira watched as Idris and two guards exited the SUV, weapons concealed under their coats. Frank gave her a headset and a reassuring nod. "You'll hear everything."
She nodded, heart pounding. "Be careful."
Idris leaned in, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. "If anything goes wrong, get out. Don't wait."
"I won't," she whispered, fingers brushing his as he stepped away.
Through the headset, she listened to every step he took, every door he opened.
"Front corridor clear," Frank's voice crackled.
"Heat source moving," another said. "We're approaching the north end."
Then a new voice cut in—smooth, deliberate, and mocking.
"Idris Aladeen. You've finally arrived."
Amira sat bolt upright. Daniel.
"Daniel Crest," Idris said. "You always did enjoy theatrics."
"I enjoy justice," Daniel replied. "But in your case, I'll settle for retribution."
"You've made your point," Idris said. "You've caused fear, chaos. What now? You want a confession? A fight? Or are you just here to monologue your downfall like a villain in a cheap drama?"
Daniel chuckled. "I want you to feel what I felt, Idris. To lose what matters most. You took my legacy. So I'll take your future."
There was a scuffle through the headset. A loud crash. Shouts. Then silence.
"Frank?" Amira whispered. "Frank, what's happening?!"
No response.
Panic surged. Against better judgment, Amira flung open the car door and bolted toward the warehouse.
A guard tried to stop her. "Ma'am, wait!"
But she was already sprinting, her only thought: Idris.
She reached the open warehouse entrance just in time to see Idris on his knees, a gun pointed at his head by a man in a suit with cold, triumphant eyes.
Daniel.
Amira didn't think. She shouted, "Stop!"
Daniel turned sharply, startled. "Ah, the woman behind the empire. How poetic."
"Let him go," Amira said, stepping forward despite the tremble in her legs. "You're angry at him, not me."
"And yet it's through you that he will finally understand loss," Daniel said. "You should've stayed invisible, Miss Amira. But now—"
Before he could finish, a shot rang out. Daniel staggered, clutching his arm as he collapsed to the side.
Frank emerged from the shadows, lowering his weapon. "I told you to wait, boss."
Idris stood quickly and rushed to Amira, pulling her into his arms. "Are you insane?! You could've been killed!"
"I had to see you," she breathed. "I couldn't wait in silence."
He held her tightly, his breath shaky. "You saved me."
Frank handcuffed Daniel, who was still writhing and swearing. "We'll turn him over to the authorities. With the evidence we have, he won't see sunlight again."
Idris glanced at Amira, eyes burning with something raw. "Let's go home."
Later that night, back in the safety of the penthouse, Idris poured two glasses of wine and sat beside Amira on the sofa. The tension had begun to ease, though the scars of the encounter would linger for a while.
"I was scared today," he admitted.
She turned to him, surprised.
"Not of him. Of losing you."
"You won't," she whispered. "Not now. Not ever."
They sat in silence, the city lights glowing beneath them.
"I realized something," Idris said quietly. "You're not my weakness. You're my strength."
Amira smiled softly and leaned her head against his shoulder. "That's funny. I was thinking the same about you."
Idris shifted, turning fully to face her. The soft glow of the city cast warm shadows across his face, making him look gentler than the world often allowed him to be. His fingers traced the rim of his wine glass, but his eyes never left hers.
"Do you regret any of this?" he asked. "Getting involved with me, this dangerous world, the constant threats, the spotlight…"
Amira didn't hesitate. "Not once. The only thing I regret is not believing in myself sooner."
He reached for her hand, his grip firm but tender. "I never thought I'd find someone who would challenge me, see through me, and still stay."
"Then you weren't looking," she said with a teasing smile. "You built walls so high even you forgot how to climb down from them."
He chuckled lowly. "Until you came knocking with a sledgehammer."
"I didn't come to destroy anything," she murmured, "just to remind you that you're allowed to feel."
There was silence between them, comfortable this time. The kind of quiet that spoke volumes without needing words. Idris set down his glass and turned toward her more fully, the air between them thick with unspoken emotion.
"You know what scared me the most today?" he said, voice barely above a whisper.
She looked up at him, eyes wide. "What?"
"That I'd never get the chance to tell you this if something happened."
Her breath caught.
"I love you, Amira," he said, the words anchoring themselves into the moment. "Not because you saved me or because you stood beside me. I love you because you see all of me—the broken, the cold, the burdened—and still choose to stay."
Tears gathered in her eyes, but she blinked them back with a trembling smile. "Idris…"
He cupped her face, thumb brushing against her cheek. "You don't have to say anything. Just know—this isn't temporary. I'm not letting go. Not now, not ever."
She leaned into his touch. "Good. Because I'm not letting go either."
Their lips met—soft at first, tentative, like two waves brushing against the shore. Then deeper, bolder, the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world vanish. It was more than passion; it was promise. A declaration. A beginning.
When they finally pulled apart, Amira laughed breathlessly. "So… we survived Daniel. What now?"
"Now," Idris said, standing and offering her his hand, "we reclaim everything he tried to take. Together."
She took his hand, letting him pull her up. "Where are we going?"
"To dinner. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere we can pretend the world doesn't exist for a night."
She raised a brow. "Pretend? Isn't that beneath a cold-hearted CEO?"
"Only if he still has a cold heart," he replied with a smile that touched his eyes for once. "But mine's thawing fast."
Amira laughed as they walked toward the elevator. "You're becoming dangerously charming, Mr. Aladeen."
"I'll take that as progress," he said, hand resting on the small of her back as the elevator doors slid open.
As they descended, the city lights blurred into a sea of gold beneath them. Amira reached for his hand and squeezed it. He looked down at her, then lifted her hand to his lips.
This time, the silence between them didn't feel like the end of a storm—it felt like the beginning of peace.
And for the first time in years, Idris Aladeen didn't feel like a man running from the past.
He felt like a man walking into his future—with her.