THE 365-DAYS WIFE

CHAPTER 12: The Confrontation

“Who is Subject Z?!”

The words tore out of Zara before she could stop them.

Damian froze in the doorway. His $10,000 suit was slightly rumpled, like he’d driven home way too fast. His eyes dropped to the diary in her hands. To the photos scattered across his mahogany desk. Photos of her.

For a full second, nothing. Just the sound of the air conditioner and Zara’s heart trying to escape her chest.

Then his expression shuttered. Cold. The billionaire mask slammed back on.

“Put that down.” His voice was flat.

“No.” Zara stood up. Her legs were shaking but she forced herself to stay tall. “You’ve been watching me. Before the contract. You have photos of my mom at the hospital. You wrote ‘Day 90 protocol’. What does that mean, Damian?”

Damian closed the door behind him. Slowly. The click sounded like a gunshot.

“You had no right to be in here.”

“And you had no right to stalk me!” The words came out louder than she meant. “Is that in the contract too? Clause 47: Billionaire gets to stalk his wife?”

He walked to her. Each step deliberate. He stopped one foot away. Close enough that she could smell his cologne and the rain on his jacket. Tall enough that she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.

“Give me the diary, Zara.”

“Why? So you can hide more lies?” She held it to her chest like a shield. “Is that how Amina died? Did you do a ‘protocol’ on her too?”

At the name Amina, something flashed in his eyes. Pain. Rage. Grief. All at once.

“Don’t say her name.” His voice dropped low. Dangerous.

“Or what? You’ll add me to the photos?” Zara laughed, but it was shaky. Tears pricked her eyes and she hated it. “I’m not stupid, Damian. You didn’t pick me randomly. My mom’s hospital bills. My father’s debt. My bank account with ₦4,230. You knew everything.”

Damian’s jaw ticked. He ran a hand through his hair and for the first time since she met him, he looked tired. Human.

“You’re right,” he said finally.

Zara blinked. “What?”

“I knew about you before.” He admitted it. Just like that. “I needed someone desperate enough. Someone with nothing to lose. Someone no one would miss if...” He cut himself off.

“If what?” Zara whispered.

“If something happened.”

The room went silent.

Zara took a step back. Her back hit the desk. “So this whole marriage is to use me as bait?”

Damian’s eyes darkened. He looked at her like she’d slapped him. “It started that way.” A pause. His throat moved. “It isn’t anymore.”

The air left Zara’s lungs. “What do you mean?”

“I mean when I saw you in the hospital holding your mother’s hand. When you yelled at that doctor for being rude to her. When you signed the contract and didn’t ask for a single extra naira.” He stepped closer again. “I wasn’t supposed to... care.”

Zara’s heart stuttered. “Care?”

“Care,” Damian repeated. Like the word tasted foreign. “About Day 90.”

Before Zara could respond, his phone screamed in his pocket.

He glanced at it. And all the color drained from his face.

“They moved faster than I thought.”

“Who?”

Damian grabbed her wrist. His grip was firm but not painful. “We have to go. Now.”

“Where—”

“To somewhere safe.” His eyes searched hers. “Trust me, Zara.”

Zara looked down at their hands. At the contract ring on her finger. The same ring Amina wore in the photos.

She thought of the note: _Monitor closely. Day 90 protocol._

She thought of her mom in the hospital.

She thought of Damian’s voice when he said _care_.

Zara nodded once. “Okay.”

Damian pulled her toward the door. As they ran down the stairs, Mama Nkechi stared from the kitchen.

“Don’t pack anything,” Damian told Zara. “Just run.”

Outside, his black G-Wagon was already idling. The driver’s seat was empty.

Damian shoved her into the passenger seat and jumped in. He floored it before the gate was even fully open.

In the rearview mirror, Zara saw two black SUVs pull up to the mansion.

Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.

Text: _“You should have run, Subject Z. Day 90 starts now.”_

Zara looked at Damian. His knuckles were white on the wheel.

“So,” she said quietly. “Who is Victor Okafor?”

Damian’s head snapped to her. “How do you know that name?”

“Because it was in Amina’s diary.”

Damian swore under his breath. “My brother.”

TO BE CONTINUED...