Episode 9:117 days
1547 Words
*CHAPTER 9: 117 DAYS*
I woke up to the smell of coffee and the weight of Damian’s arm around me.
For a second I forgot. About Kunle. About the text. About the 117 days.
Then I saw his phone on the nightstand. Face down. And remembered.
He was already awake. Watching me.
“Morning,” he said quietly.
“Morning,” I whispered back.
He didn’t move. Didn’t let go. “How did you sleep?”
“Better than I have in months.”
“Good.” He brushed his thumb over my knuckles. “We need to talk about last night.”
The text.
I nodded. “Who do you think sent it?”
“I don’t know. But it wasn’t Kunle.” He sat up, pulling me with him. “Zara is running traces. And I doubled security.”
The house felt different today. Tighter. Like everyone was holding their breath.
Downstairs, Tolu was already in the kitchen. Blanket around her shoulders. Eating toast.
“Ade!” She grinned when she saw me. Then her smile faded. “You look tired.”
“I’m fine,” I said. And meant it.
Damian poured me coffee. Black. No sugar. The way I’d started drinking it because of him.
Zara came in ten minutes later. Laptop in hand. Face grim.
“We have a problem,” she said.
Damian didn’t sit. “What?”
“The photo. It wasn’t taken from outside. It was taken from inside the house.”
The room went cold.
“Inside?” I said. “By who?”
“Don’t know yet. But the timestamp matches 2:13am. Right after the fire.” Zara pulled up security footage. “Camera in the kitchen was looped for 6 minutes.”
Someone had been in the house. While we were upstairs.
Damian set his mug down. Hard. “Sweep the house. Again. Check every guard. Check staff.”
“Already started,” Zara said. “And sir... Langston called again.”
Damian’s jaw ticked. “What do they want?”
“To ‘discuss options’ before the penalty clause triggers. They said if you go public saying the marriage is real, they’ll consider it a breach.”
“Good,” Damian said. “I want it to be a breach.”
Zara blinked. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” He looked at me. “Are you?”
I thought about the contract. The ashes. The way he’d said my name last night.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.”
He nodded once. “Set up a press conference. Today.”
---
By noon the Carter Group tower was full of reporters.
92nd floor. Same room as the board meeting. But this time the cameras were on us.
Damian stood at the podium. Suit. No tie. Me beside him.
Twelve years of headlines and he’d never looked more calm. Or more dangerous.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he started. “Thank you for coming.”
Cameras flashed.
“I’m here to address the rumors regarding my marriage to Adele Morgan.”
My hand found his under the podium. He squeezed it.
“The marriage is real. It is legal. And it is not part of any business deal.”
The room erupted.
“Mr. Carter, is it true Langston Industries is owed 20% of Carter Group?”
“Was the marriage arranged for the merger?”
“Is your wife safe after last night’s incident?”
Damian raised a hand. Silence fell.
“To answer your questions. No, the marriage was not arranged. Yes, there was a clause in a prior merger agreement. And no, it will not be honored.”
More shouting.
“As of this morning, Carter Group is terminating all merger negotiations with Langston Industries. We will pay whatever penalty is required.”
He turned to me. “Because my wife is not a line item. She is not a clause. She is not a deal.”
He took my hand. Lifted it.
“This is my wife. And I will not let anyone use her. Again.”
The room exploded.
We didn’t take questions. Security ushered us out.
In the elevator down, Damian let out a breath. “Well. That’s done.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A video.
10 seconds. Me and Damian. At the podium. Holding hands.
Caption: _96 days to go. Tick tock, Mrs. Carter._
I showed him.
His face went blank. “Zara.”
“I’m on it,” she said from behind us. “New number. VPN. They’re good.”
“Find them,” Damian said. Quiet. Deadly.
---
That night we didn’t sleep in the mansion.
We went to a safe house. Beachfront. In Victoria Island. No staff. Just guards outside.
Tolu was already there. Watching movies in the living room.
“You guys are famous,” she said without looking up. “#RealMrsCarter is trending.”
Damian almost smiled. “Great.”
We ordered food. Ate on the floor. Like normal people.
After Tolu went to bed, Damian and I sat on the balcony. Ocean in front of us.
No contract. No rules.
Just us.
“Do you regret it?” he asked. “The press conference?”
“No,” I said. “Do you?”
He shook his head. “I’ve lost companies before. I’ve never lost you.”
We sat in silence. His arm around me. My head on his shoulder.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown.
A picture this time.
The safe house. From the beach. Taken tonight.
Text: _87 days. Getting closer._
Damian saw it. Stood up immediately.
“Inside. Now.”
We ran.
Zara was already calling. “Move locations. Now. They know where you are.”
---
2am. New location. Underground.
Damian hadn’t spoken in an hour. He was on the phone with his security chief. With the police. With everyone.
I sat on the bed. Watching him.
He looked tired. Older.
“Damian,” I said.
He ended the call. “Yeah?”
“Whoever this is... they want you to break. To panic. To make a mistake.”
“I know.”
“So don’t.”
He came and sat next to me. Took my hand. “I’m trying.”
“What if it’s someone from Carter Group? Someone who wanted the merger?”
“Then they’ll slip up,” he said. “Everyone does.”
He pulled me down. Laying us both on the bed.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I brought this to you.”
“You didn’t,” I said. “You’re trying to fix it.”
He kissed my forehead. “117 days. We can do 117 days.”
“Yeah,” I said. “We can.”
We didn’t sleep. We just held each other. Listening for footsteps. For phones. For anything.
At 5am, Zara knocked. “Sir. We have a lead.”
Damian was up instantly. “What?”
“IP trace. It’s bouncing, but... it came from inside Carter Group. 42nd floor.”
Damian’s expression didn’t change. “Who has access to that floor at 2am?”
“Three people,” Zara said. “And one of them is Vanessa Langston.”
The name hit like a slap.
Damian closed his eyes. “Get her.”
---
By 7am we were back at the tower.
Vanessa was in a conference room. No lawyer. No phone. Just her. And a file.
Damian walked in. I followed.
“Vanessa,” he said.
She looked up. Tired. No makeup. “Damian.”
“Why?”
She laughed. Bitter. “Because you chose her over the company. Over me. Over everything we built.”
“You were never part of this,” he said.
“I was!” She slammed her hand on the table. “We had a plan. The merger. The marriage. You said you needed someone. I thought it could be me.”
“It wasn’t,” Damian said. “It never was.”
Vanessa looked at me. “You don’t even know him. Not really. He’s using you to get back at Kunle. To look good. To—”
“Stop,” I said. My voice was steady. “I know exactly who he is. Do you?”
Vanessa stared at me. Then at Damian.
And something in her broke.
“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” she whispered. “I just wanted you to see me.”
Police came in. Cuffed her.
As they led her out, she looked back. “You’ll regret this, Damian. All of it.”
Door closed.
Damian exhaled. “It’s over.”
Zara nodded. “We’ll monitor. But yes. It’s over.”
That night we went home.
No texts. No photos. No countdown.
Just quiet.
Damian made tea. Ginger. For my throat.
We sat on the couch. No TV. No phones.
“117 days,” he said.
“Minus 3,” I said. “114.”
He smiled. Pulled me into his lap.
“We can do 114 days,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “We can.”
He kissed me. Slow. Safe.
Outside, the city was quiet.
Inside, for the first time, so were we.
---
*END OF CHAPTER 9*
- Writer
