Chapter 84: The Verdict
At Murtala Mohammed International Airport, Nigeria, a plane had just touched down.
Passengers steadily descended the aircraft stairs, dragging carry-on luggage and exchanging greetings with loved ones waiting beyond the arrival gates.
Among them, one man moved with unusual haste.
Tall and impeccably dressed, Bilal barely spared a glance at the bustling surroundings. His strides were long and urgent, leaving his luggage entirely in the care of his assistant, who struggled to keep up behind him.
A young woman walked closely beside him—too closely.
Anyone watching would assume familiarity.
The moment Bilal spotted the waiting limousine, however, he subtly distanced himself from her, the picture of propriety and gentlemanly restraint.
As though he had never allowed her near him at all.
The chauffeur opened the door.
Inside sat a middle-aged Englishman with refined features and an air of quiet authority. Beside him was an elegant woman whose warm smile immediately brightened at the sight of Bilal.
"Welcome home, son," the man said affectionately, his English accent crisp and unmistakable. "How was your flight?"
"It was good, sir," Bilal replied respectfully.
"Your aunt insisted on coming to receive you," he continued with amusement. "Your cousins are all at home waiting."
"Bilal!" the woman exclaimed.
His mother's younger sister, Rodiyya Houston, reached over to squeeze his hand.
"How have you been? You look more mature now... and even more handsome." Her eyes softened. "I've missed you so much."
"It was good, ma," Bilal answered politely.
"Thank you so much, Uncle and Auntie, for coming yourselves. One of my cousins could have picked me up. Why stress yourselves?"
He sighed dramatically.
"Ah!"
Laughter filled the limousine.
"We can wait," Rodiyya declared. "But I can't. I missed you too much."
Then her gaze shifted toward the airport entrance.
"And who is that young lady following your assistant?"
Bilal's heart skipped.
His mind instantly raced through possible explanations.
"Oh..." he began smoothly. "She's my assistant's sister. She had business in Nigeria, so I arranged for her to join our flight. Her brother works diligently for me. Think of it as... a gesture of appreciation."
"Aww."
Rodiyya beamed.
"I'm so proud of you."
Turning to her husband, she shook her head dramatically.
"My sister is truly fortunate to have a son like him."
Then her expression darkened.
"I still don't understand why that girl left such a good man."
She clicked her tongue.
"Saying all those terrible things about you. Maybe she's the one with questionable morals and behaviour. Just look at how kind my son is."
"I don't understand why your grandfather insists that you marry her before releasing your inheritance," she continued with obvious irritation.
"Why can't you marry someone else? There are countless wonderful ladies in England and Nigeria—your homeland. Honestly, what a headache."
"Wife," Houston Abd'Azeem said calmly, "don't be too quick to judge."
Rodiyya frowned.
"I feel your father must have seen something," he continued thoughtfully. "Men like him don't make decisions carelessly."
He glanced at Bilal.
"An experienced strategist and businessman often notices what others miss. What he sees... we may not yet understand."
"Oh, stop siding with him, Houston."
Rodiyya crossed her arms.
"Dad has always been controlling."
Then she turned back to Bilal.
"Listen, my boy. Just do your best. If the girl still refuses, I'll personally call your grandfather and tell him you tried."
"You shouldn't be forced to remain tied to someone who no longer wants you."
Again.
That word.
Bilal's jaw tightened.
Refuses.
Doesn't want you.
He had heard those words so often that they had begun to grate against his nerves.
Why did no one ever mention that he had been the one who divorced her?
Why was everyone acting as though he had been abandoned?
But he dared not voice those thoughts aloud.
His grandfather would roast him alive.
He wasn't going anywhere without her.
It was time to punish her for her stubbornness.
Rayyan belonged with him.
She had merely been acting out.
Throwing a prolonged tantrum.
Soon enough, she would return to where she belonged.
His grandfather had forced him back to Nigeria earlier than planned.
The old man had frozen his inheritance without hesitation.
Bilal remembered every word.
"You don't deserve anything from me."
The old man's furious voice echoed through his memory.
"I chose a girl for you, and what did you do?"
"You drove her away with your reckless lifestyle."
"Don't think I'm like those fools fooled by your carefully crafted image."
"My eyes are not blind."
"I know exactly who you are."
"And I know that girl was painted black while the real culprit stood proudly in white."
Bilal had stood frozen in his grandfather's study.
The old man had slammed his palm against the polished mahogany desk.
"You lost a gem, you idiot."
"She didn't even ask for alimony after the divorce."
"Tell me, how many young women would walk away with such dignity?"
"I secretly offered her a card to support herself."
"She rejected it."
"I ended up compensating her parents with millions because I could no longer bear the guilt."
"If I hadn't insisted on the marriage, perhaps none of this would have happened."
Then his gaze had turned sharp enough to pierce flesh.
"You lied."
"You framed her."
"You slandered her."
"You malicious boy."
"You watched her reputation crumble before her family."
"You knew what she was suffering through."
"And yet you never stepped forward to clear her name."
Then came the verdict.
"So hear mine."
"Marry her again."
"Restore her reputation."
"Make people see the goodness in her."
"Or lose every share and inheritance that should have been yours."
"I will not change my mind."
"Don't waste your breath begging."
"You can continue entertaining those shameless women if you wish..."
"...while Rayyan meets a truly responsible man."
"He'll build a family with her."
"He'll cherish her integrity."
"And one day, everyone who misunderstood her will regret it."
Bilal inhaled sharply.
Hell No! No one will marry her except him.
Never.
His eyes opened.
Only then did he realise the limousine had fallen silent.
Four pairs of eyes rested on him.
Filled with pity.
"Have you still not gotten over her?" Rodiyya asked softly.
"I can tell."
"You disappeared into your thoughts the moment her name came up."
She sighed sadly.
"I think you still love her."
"Do your best, Bilal."
"We'll help you."
"But if it still doesn't work..."
"...then let her go."
"You'll find someone else."
Bilal opened his mouth.
He wanted to tell them that it wasn't love.
That he wanted Rayyan back so she could experience the same torment he had endured.
That she had embarrassed him enough.
That it was time for her to stop resisting and return.
But the words refused to come.
Instead, Rodiyya squeezed his hand.
"I know she had flaws," she whispered. "But despite everything, you still want her."
"Isn't that what true love is?"
"Don't worry."
"We're with you."
Beside her, Houston remained quiet.
Yet conflict flickered within his eyes.
His thoughts returned to the airport.
To the young woman who had practically been glued to Bilal before the young man noticed their car and carefully distanced himself.
Was Bilal truly the decent young man everyone believed him to be?
Or was he simply skilled at wearing masks?
Houston respected Bilal's grandfather immensely.
The old man was perceptive, sharp, and rarely wrong in his judgement.
So why would a man like that go to such lengths?
Why insist so firmly on Rayyan?
Why threaten to disinherit his own grandson?
Unless there were truths hidden beneath the surface...
Truths that others had failed to see.
The remainder of the journey passed in silence.
Outside, Lagos moved with its usual energy and chaos.
Inside the limousine, however, each passenger was trapped within a world of a thousand thoughts.
And somewhere in the city ahead...
A girl named Rayyan remained blissful, calm.. unaware that the past she had fought so hard to escape was drawing closer once again.
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