Amara’s body felt numb. Her heart hammered painfully against her ribcage, but the world around her was dissolving into a blur.

Her father’s name, Chief Johnson, hung in the air like a death sentence.

She wanted to move, to breathe, to scream again, but her body betrayed her. All she could do was stare at Ademola, whose stone-carved face gave nothing away.

He wasn’t panicked. He wasn’t even concerned. He was too calm.

That calmness was worse than the fire itself.

It meant he had expected this.

“Answer them,” Amara demanded, her voice breaking with desperation. “Tell them to find him. Tell them to save my father!”

Ademola didn’t move. His eye was locked on the blinking phone, his expression unreadable.

“Ademola!” she screamed, the raw sound scraping her throat.

Still nothing.

Her knees buckled again, but this time, Ifeoluwa caught her. Strong, steady hands kept her trembling body upright. The warmth of the other woman’s touch sharply contrasted with the cold terror gnawing inside her.

Ifeoluwa whispered, "Breathe, Amara," but her voice shook with barely disguised anger. "Stop letting him witness your breakdown."

Amara wanted to laugh bitterly. How could she not break down? Her father was missing, maybe gone, his home reduced to flames, and the man who controlled it all stood before her like an emperor playing chess with people’s lives.

“Why?” Amara gasped, her eyes wide and wet as they locked on Ademola.

“Why are you doing this to me? To my family? What did we ever do to you?”

For a moment, so quick she might have imagined it, something sparked in his eyes.

Regret?

Guilt?

But then it was gone, buried beneath that cold, heartless mask he wore so well.

He stepped closer, hovering over both women, his voice low and even.

Your father’s choices have brought you here, Amara. Don’t forget that.

“My father never

” She started!, but her voice broke, her words collapsing under the weight of grief.

Ifeoluwa’s hand squeezed hers, grounding her in the storm. Then, Ifeoluwa turned her fury on Ademola.

“You think this makes you powerful?” she spat.

“Destroying homes, threatening innocent families? That’s not power, Ademola.

That’s desperation dressed in silk.”

Ademola’s jaw clenched, but his voice remained steady. “You know nothing about desperation, Ifeoluwa. Don’t pretend you do.”

The way he said her name, sharp, filled with venom, sent a chill down Amara’s spine.

Whoever Ifeoluwa truly was, she wasn’t just some outsider intruding. There was history between them. History is layered with secrets and broken trust.

But right now, Amara didn’t care about their battles. She cared about one thing only: her father.

“Call them back,” she demanded, stepping forward, her hands shaking but her voice gaining strength. “Call them back and tell them to keep looking.

He’s alive, he has to be.”

Ademola didn’t move.

“Do it!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

Finally, with infuriating slowness, he pressed the button on the phone. The line clicked alive again.

“Report,” he said flatly.

The voice on the other end was rushed, heavy with static and panic.

“The fire spread too quickly. We managed to contain some of it, but… Sir, the neighbors claim they saw Chief Johnson inside before the flames worsened.

We haven’t found a body yet, but—”

Amara’s heart nearly stopped. She clutched her chest, choking on the sob that tore from her lungs. “No… no, please, God, no…”

“But—” the voice added hurriedly, “we’re still searching. He might have gotten out.

There are no remains in the ruins so far.”

Amara’s knees gave way, but she didn’t collapse this time. She gripped the edge of the desk, her tears falling hot and heavy.

Alive. Maybe alive.

It wasn’t hope, not really. It was a thread, thin and fraying, but it was all she had left.

“Keep searching,” Ademola ordered curtly. “And call me the moment you have something.”

The line went dead.

Amara’s sobs filled the silence. Her body shook violently as she slid into the chair, her hands covering her face.

If her father lived, it was by a miracle. If he didn’t…

She couldn’t finish the thought.

Ifeoluwa’s voice cut through the heavy silence.

“You see what you’ve done?” Her tone was low and deadly.

“You’ve pushed her to the edge, and for what, Ademola?

What did you gain? More leverage? More blood on your hands?”

Ademola slowly turned to her, his face still unreadable.

“Stay out of this.”

Ifeoluwa stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply on the floor as she snapped,

"I can’t just stand by. Not when she’s being dragged into a world that’s not hers.

Not when you’re wrecking her life, just like that house.”

Her words hit Amara like a punch to the gut.

Deep down, she felt like an outsider. She’d never truly belonged in this ruthless world, yet here she was, stuck in the middle of a battle between two powerful figures who felt more like enemies than allies.

“Stop talking about me like I’m invisible!”

Amara burst out, her voice raw and her tears still streaking down her cheeks. Both Ademola and Ifeoluwa turned to her, surprise etched on their faces.

Her voice trembled but carried a strength she didn’t know she had.

“I’m not your pawn or your weapon.

I’m not your enemy.

I’m a daughter who just learned that my father might be dead!

So stop,” her voice cracked, filled with emotion,

“Stop using me to fight your battles!”

Silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating.

Ademola stared at her, his dark eyes shadowed by something she couldn’t quite identify. Ifeoluwa’s expression softened, almost pitying her.

Amara’s chest heaved with sobs, but she held their gaze, wanting them to see her strength, even if it felt fragile.

Then the phone rang again, cutting through the tension.

All three of them froze.

Ademola hovered his hand over the receiver, glancing between Amara and Ifeoluwa before answering.

“Yeah?”

There was a pause, then the voice on the other end spoke,

“Sir… we found something.”

Amara’s stomach dropped, her nails digging into the wooden armrest.

“What is it?” Ademola demanded.

“A man escaped the fire through the back door. He’s badly burned and unconscious.

The paramedics took him to St. Gregory’s Hospital.”

Amara’s heart raced, a mix of relief and dread flooding her.

She shot to her feet, nearly stumbling.

“That’s him!

It has to be my father!”

Tears of gratitude filled her eyes, but they were mixed with fear.

He was alive—but barely.

Ademola ended the call, his jaw tightening. Amara turned to him, her tear-streaked face desperate. “Take me to him. Now.”

His eyes narrowed, calculating. “You’re not in any condition—”

“Now!” she shouted, surprising even herself.

For a moment, they locked eyes. Then, slowly, Ademola nodded.

“Fine,” he said coolly. “But remember, Amara… everything comes with a price.”

The drive to the hospital felt endless. Amara sat in the back seat of the sleek black car, trembling and gripping her lap. Ifeoluwa sat beside her, silent but alert, while Ademola focused on the road ahead.

Every turn felt like a lifetime, every red light a personal punishment.

When they finally pulled up to St. Gregory’s, Amara barely waited for the car to stop before she bolted out. Ifeoluwa caught her arm, steadying her.

“Don’t lose yourself in there,” Ifeoluwa whispered urgently.

“He needs your strength, not your fear.”

Amara nodded, though her heart raced in her chest.

They rushed into the hospital, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling her lungs.

Nurses rushed past, doctors murmured urgently, and anxiety hung thick in the air.

At the reception, Amara struggled to find her voice. “Chief Johnson. Where is he?”

The nurse’s eyes softened. “He’s in intensive care. Room 304.

But only family can—”

“I’m his daughter!”

Amara gasped, desperation spilling out.

The nurse nodded sympathetically.

“Go ahead. But prepare yourself. He’s critical.”

Amara felt her knees weaken, but she forced herself forward, Ifeoluwa’s steady hand guiding her.

They reached the door, and Amara hesitated, her trembling hand hovering over the handle.

Just then, she heard it—Ademola’s voice, low but unmistakable, behind her.

“Remember, Amara… this is the cost of defiance.”

His words cut through her, sharp and painful.

With a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

What she saw inside made her scream.