Chapter 133 The Night Everything Broke

• The room was dimly lit, a single lamp casting long shadows across the floor. Imani’s suite was quiet but charged with tension — an eerie calm before the inevitable storm. Thick velvet curtains muffled the sound of the night, and the ticking of an ornate wall clock became a cruel reminder of time slipping through her fingers.
• Imani paced the polished marble floor barefoot, one hand cradling her swollen belly, the other clutching her phone tightly. Her silk robe billowed slightly with each step, but her movements were restless, agitated. Her face, usually poised, was drawn with exhaustion and brooding intensity.
• She stared at her reflection in the tall mirror — not admiring, but studying. Her eyes narrowed.