Veiled Vows

Chapter 4 – The Shadow in the Frame

The drive back from the gala felt endless. Lagos traffic crawled like it knew they were carrying something fragile. Zara stared out the tinted window, city lights sliding across her face in streaks of gold and red. Reza sat beside her, one elbow on the armrest, fingers tapping a slow, restless rhythm against his knee. He hadn’t spoken since she showed him the text.

The elevator video threat sat between them like a third person in the backseat.

When the SUV finally pulled into her building’s underground garage, Zara didn’t wait for the driver. She pushed the door open and stepped out, heels clicking hard against concrete. Reza followed without a word.

The elevator ride up was suffocating. No kissing this time. Just the hum of machinery, the faint smell of metal and his cologne, and the weight of what someone else had captured without their knowledge.

When the doors opened onto her penthouse floor, she walked straight to the living room, kicked off her heels, and poured herself a glass of red wine she actually intended to finish tonight.

Reza closed the door behind them. Locked it. Double-checked the bolt like someone might try to walk in.

“Show me the message again,” he said quietly.

She handed him her phone.

He read it twice, jaw tight. Then he scrolled up, checked the number, the timestamp.

“Unknown sender. Burner app, probably. Routed through three different countries.” He looked at her. “This isn’t random. Someone’s been following us.”

“Or someone inside my circle,” she said, voice flat. “My security team, my driver, my PA—someone who knew my schedule tonight.”

Reza set the phone down carefully, like it might bite.

“We need to assume everything is compromised,” he said. “Your phones, your emails, your car. From now on, we talk in person or on burners. No more texts about anything sensitive.”

And she realized the most terrifying thing of all.

Whoever was doing this didn’t just want to destroy her empire.

They wanted to destroy whatever this was between her and Reza.

Before it even had a chance to become real.

She looked up at him, voice barely above a whisper.

“Reza… what if they’re right here? Right now?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

He just reached out, brushed a strand of hair from her face, and said the words that made her heart stop.

“Then we stop pretending,” he murmured. “And we start fighting back. Together.”

But even as he said it, Zara’s phone buzzed again.

One last message.

Look behind you.

She spun around.

The balcony door was cracked open.

Just enough for someone to have slipped inside.