Chapter 3

The living room buzzed with stifled tension. Chief Kareem’s deep voice floated in and out of Zara’s consciousness as he discussed “family values” and “merging legacies” with her father. Regan sat across from her, back stiff, eyes occasionally glancing her way, unreadable as always.

Zara’s fingers twitched in her lap. She couldn’t breathe in here—couldn’t think straight. With a polite smile that barely masked her frustration, she excused herself.

“Excuse me, I need to get something upstairs,” she muttered, not waiting for permission.

Once in her room, she locked the door behind her, slumped onto the bed, and grabbed her phone. Her heart beat faster as she pulled up her messages, scrolling until she saw the email again—the one that had flipped her world upside down just hours ago.

Congratulations Zara Tunde, you have been shortlisted as one of the finalists for the House of Aramé Model Search. The final selection will take place in three months. Prepare to bring your A-game.

She stared at it again, letting the words soak in. This was real. She had a shot. A real shot.

Her thumb hovered over Kemi’s contact. She tapped it.

“Kemi,” she whispered once the call connected.

“Zara? What’s up? You sound like you just ran a marathon.”

Zara didn’t waste time. “Kemi, you remember the modeling competition I applied for?”

“The House of Aramé one?” Kemi said quickly. “Yeah, of course I remember! You’ve been obsessed with them since forever.”

“They picked me,” Zara said, voice trembling. “I got an email. I’m one of the finalists!”

There was a pause—and then a shriek so loud Zara had to yank the phone away from her ear.

“Zara! Oh my God! Are you serious right now?!”

“Yes!” Zara laughed, her first real laugh in days. “It’s happening, Kemi. I just don’t know how I’m going to pull this off with all this marriage drama. You should see my house right now. Regan is here. With his father. My parents are practically planning the wedding already.”

“Wait—what?” Kemi sounded horrified. “The Regan? He’s there? As in your future husband that you didn’t even pick?”

Zara sighed. “Exactly. They’re all downstairs talking about legacies and alliances and all that crap. Like I’m some pawn on a chessboard.”

Kemi hissed. “This is insane. But listen, you got that email for a reason. You can’t just drop your dreams because they want you to play house with some random rich boy.”

“I’m not dropping anything,” Zara said, her voice hardening. “In fact, I want us to start putting things in motion now.”

“What kind of things?”

“Photoshoots. A portfolio. Maybe an I*******m page that looks clean and professional. I want them to see I’m serious.”

“Say less,” Kemi replied. “I’ll speak to Lola—she has that camera, right? We’ll start this weekend.”

A knock sounded at the door.

Zara’s breath hitched.

“Someone’s at the door. I need to go.”

“Okay, but Zara?” Kemi’s voice softened. “You’ve got this. We’ll figure it out.”

Zara ended the call, slid the phone under her pillow, and walked to the door, calming her breath. She expected her mother—or maybe even her father, coming to drag her back to the parlor. But when she opened it, she was met with an entirely different face.

Regan.

Tall, composed, his expression unreadable as usual. But there was something different in his eyes this time—something sharper. Amusement? Curiosity?

His eyes flicked to her phone on the bed, then back to her face.

“I was just coming to check if you were alright,” he said smoothly. Then, after a beat, he added with a slight smirk, “Modeling, huh?”

Zara froze.

Her stomach twisted. He heard.

Before she could respond, Regan gave a casual shrug and turned, his voice floating down the hallway as he walked away.

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me… for now.”

Zara is left stunned. She doesn’t know what Regan intends to do with what he heard—or if he’ll use it against her. The power dynamic between them just tilted, and now, she’s not sure which side he’s really on.