Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 141 - Chapitre 150

The air in the stairwell was cold—sterile, concrete-lined, and dimly lit by the single bulb overhead. Dust floated in the shaft of light cutting through the small square window. Outside, the hospital parking lot stretched into darkness. Only a few cars remained. One of them, a black Honda with tinted windows, had sat idle for hours.Inside it, Nathan had waited.He’d watched the front entrance like a hawk, chest tight, blood thudding behind his ears every time someone walked in or out. When Dr. Hakeem rushed back inside earlier, Nathan had tensed. The doctor’s office sat near the back corner, and Nathan could see the lights flicker on from where he sat, partially obscured by the line of trees near the emergency bay.That was the signal.It had happened.Imani had given birth.He hadn’t needed to ask. He just knew.And now… he was inside. No longer in the car. No longer watching from a distance.He stood on the fourth-floor stairwell landing, positioned directly across from the nurse’s

At night in the Kareem’s mansionThe room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Outside the window, the night held its breath. Crickets chirped in the distance, and the occasional passing car left a faint trail of light across the walls.Zara lay on her back, half-covered by the duvet, her arms resting across her stomach. Her eyes were open, unmoving, trained on the ceiling as if searching for something only she could see.The door opened gently. Regan stepped in, slow and quiet, like he didn’t want to startle her. He wasn’t sure if she was awake.She didn’t move.He sat down beside her, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. For a long stretch of moments, neither of them spoke.Just silence.Heavy and breathing.Then—ZARA(softly, almost to herself)I feel like I’m being… erased.Regan looked at her, brow furrowing.ZARAEvery time she posts… every time she says “my miracle” or calls herself a mother of your child—it’s like she’s writing me out. Like she’s tigh

Sunlight poured through the wide windows, painting golden streaks across the plush cream carpet. The house was quiet, but Zara sat on the edge of the living room couch, phone in hand, motionless. Her thumb hovered over the screen, frozen on a blog headline.#SoloDischarge#WhereIsRegan#DidHeDenyTheBaby?A photo stared back at her—Imani, stepping out of the hospital alone, baby in her arms, a nurse trailing behind. The caption below it read:“IMANI KAREEM AND NEWBORN LEAVE HOSPITAL—WITHOUT REGAN. Rumors swirl.”Zara blinked. Her breath had grown shallow. Another post loaded automatically beneath it.A close-up.Imani adjusting her glasses.Baby’s face pixelated, but still framed in pink.The sound of a door creaking broke the silence.Regan stepped into the living room, sleeves rolled to his elbows, phone in hand, brows slightly furrowed. He looked tired. Heavy.Zara didn’t look up. Just raised the phone and tilted the screen toward him.ZARA(calmly, but cutting)Where were you?Rega

BLOGGERS’ STUDIOS – VARIOUS LOCATIONS – (MONTAGE)A frenzy of motion.Clicking keyboards. Ring lights. Green screens.Mouths painted in gloss. Coffee cups clink.The media machine spins at full throttle.SCREEN MONTAGE – BLOG POSTS / TWITTER / INSTAGRAM / YOUTUBE SHORTS –A popular blog headline loads in bold letters across a sleek black background:🔥 “Discharged and Deserted? Imani Leaves Hospital ALONE!”Cut to a rapid slideshow of grainy paparazzi shots:Imani in sunglasses, carrying the baby.The SUV pulling away without Regan in sight.A nurse trailing behind her with her bag.TWITTER THREAD –🧵 Let’s talk about Regan Kareem ghosting his baby’s discharge like it’s a brunch invite.👇 1. He was nowhere to be seen.2. He sent a driver. A driver, y’all.3. Meanwhile… wife #2’s been posting glam maternity looks?Hashtag it:#WhereIsRegan#SoloDischarge#ReganTheGhostDadINSTAGRAM – Zara’s modeling page flooded with comments:💬 “Wife or stepmom, girl? 👀”💬 “U knew he had a baby c

KAREEM MANSION – FRONT GATE – MORNINGThe sun rises gently over the tall, gated compound. A black scarf tied neatly over her head, IMANI’S MOTHER approaches the security booth.The GATEMAN, in a smart uniform, squints at her with measured curiosity.GATEMANGood morning, ma.You’re here to see someone?IMANI’S MOTHERYes.I’m her mother—Imani’s mother.The gateman straightens slightly, now alert.GATEMANAh… one moment, ma. Please wait.He disappears inside the gatehouse and picks up the internal line.The HOUSEKEEPER, a neatly dressed woman in her 40s, answers the call, nods, and immediately begins walking toward the guest wing.STEAM curls from under the slightly open bathroom door. Inside, IMANI is soaking in a luxury bathtub, cucumber slices on her eyes, classical music playing low in the background.Suddenly—HOUSEKEEPER (O.S.)(from the other side of the door)Madam Imani!There is a woman at the gate. She says she’s your mother.Imani peels the cucumbers off, eyes wide, then ro