TIESCHAPTER 8“I will not agree to it, no! My child will never be illegitimate!” Lara’s voice trembled with conviction, her face flushed with defiance.
Emenike stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat.
“You’re pregnant?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his heart pounding in his chest.
Lara turned slowly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She took a shaky breath, then nodded.
“Yes... I’m pregnant. I found out a few days ago,” she confessed, her voice soft but carrying the weight of her fear.
Without warning, Emenike surged forward and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly as if to shield her from the world.
“Thank you... thank you...” he murmured, his voice breaking as tears rolled down his face. “I swear, Lara, I’ll make things right. I promise you... I’ll fix everything,” he whispered fiercely, pulling back to meet her gaze, his eyes filled with desperation and love.
“Where is that foolish boy called Emenike?!” Nne Adaego’s voice thundered through the house as she stormed in, her face twisted with rage.
Chioma rushed downstairs, anxiety swirling in her chest.
“Nne, good evening. You’re welcome. I hope your journey was smooth,” she greeted, her hands trembling slightly as she signaled the maid to take Nne’s bag.
“Spare me the pleasantries!” Nne Adaego spat, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Where is your husband? I want him to say that nonsense to my face!”
“What nonsense?” Nne Agnes shouted as she burst into the room, her face contorted with fury. Her eyes blazed with fire, and her hands balled into fists at her sides. “What nonsense are you talking about, Adaego? And what exactly are you doing in my son’s house?” she demanded, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger.
Chioma stood in the middle, her pulse quickening. She knew this confrontation was inevitable, and she steeled herself for the battle to come.
“Your son’s house?” Nne Adaego sneered, a bitter smile creeping across her face.
“Yes, my son’s house!” Nne Agnes shot back, her voice rising in intensity.
Nne Adaego stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. “Has your son ever earned anything of value in his entire life? Everything he has was handed to him on a platter of gold, and now he’s throwing it all away! This—” she gestured grandly around her “—was Dike’s home, my son’s home!” she shouted, her voice shaking with raw emotion as she stepped dangerously close to Nne Agnes, her face only inches away.
Nne Agnes didn’t flinch. Her eyes were dark with grief and determination as she spoke through clenched teeth. “Well, your son is dead, and by tradition, my son inherited everything. So, this is his home now, and you have no place here,” she said, each word laced with venom. She turned to face Chioma, her gaze searing.
“And now I understand why my son chose a Yoruba woman over you. You’re weak. Pathetic,” Nne Agnes hissed, her voice filled with contempt, before spitting on the floor in disgust. Without another word, she stormed upstairs, leaving the room vibrating with tension.
Nne Adaego’s eyes flared as she watched her rival leave. She turned to Chioma, her voice low and dangerous. “Don’t mind that harlot of a woman. We’ll win this war, Chioma. I swear it,” she vowed, her hand landing firmly on Chioma’s back. “That’s a promise.”