Alexander stood on the hotel balcony, the city lights below twinkling like restless stars. His phone buzzed in his hand—it was a message from his security aide, Tunji.
"Sir, we've confirmed. Her name is Maria Okoro. She sells vegetables in Balogun Market. The boy is five years old."
Alexander's chest tightened. Five years. The same number of years since that afternoon in Room 709. He didn't need a DNA test. Something deep inside him already knew the truth.
He had a son.
He stared at the message for a long moment, then dialed Tunji.
"Keep eyes on her," he said calmly. "But don't approach yet. I want to do it myself."
"Yes, sir."
He ended the call, a storm brewing inside him.
He had slept with many women—some for pleasure, others for business. But Maria was different. He still remembered her eyes. Scared, innocent, full of questions she didn't ask. He had crossed a line that day. Took more than he gave. And walked away like it was nothing.
Now, life had forced his hand.
He poured himself a glass of whisky and swallowed hard. What kind of man had he become? And how was he going to face her?
Down in a modest one-bedroom apartment near the market, Maria sat on her thin mattress with Junior fast asleep beside her. She stared at the ceiling, her heart pounding. She had moved before. She could do it again.
But something was different this time.
She had seen him—just for a second—but it was enough. Alexander had found them. And from the look in his eyes, he knew everything.
The question now wasn't if he would come.
It was when.