Chapter 31 #2
“Imanio… with the considerable budget at your disposal, you could assemble an entire production team—cameramen, makeup artists, stylists, and editors—all within two hours if you really put your mind to it. And let me assure you, this isn't just a luxury; it’s a necessity. If this post is executed correctly, it has the potential to not only silence the swirling speculation around you but also to reclaim the narrative and put it firmly in your own voice, not theirs.” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with determination.
“This is your moment to influence the conversation.”
Imanio nodded slowly; the wheels were already turning behind his eyes.
Then he looked at me. “What do you think?”
“I… I agree,” I responded, more confidently than I expected. “I like the idea.”
Saroya smiled, clearly pleased. “See?”
“Aight,” he said, nodding once. “I can do that. My sister Dess usually helps me out with last-minute stuff when it comes to all that.”
“Perfect!” Saroya exclaimed, clapping her hands. “We need her on the phone ASAP! I want to begin drafting the caption while the shoot is being prepped. Something short, tasteful, and firm. It will go up from your official page, so it has to match your tone without sounding combative.”
She turned her phone around to show us a sample caption.
“I was thinking something along these lines: ‘In a world full of noise, we choose peace. I’m grateful to share life with my wife—Naji. Thank you for respecting our privacy and supporting our journey.’ ”
It was nice, polished, and clean… but of course, it was too ‘soft’ for Imanio.
“Nah,” he said. “Something like this— Her name is Naji Kors. My wife. My peace. My business. Stay out of it. It’s classy… with a touch of criminal.”
My jaw twitched as a small burst of laughter slipped out.
“That does sound like you,” I finally spoke.
Saroya playfully rolled her eyes with a smile.
“Yes, the real him. And that’s exactly why we’re not posting it.
” She tapped her screen and flipped it back around.
“You hired me to protect your image, remember? Let me do that. This post is about control… reclaiming the story—not stoking more fire. The internet wants drama; we’re giving them poise. ”
Saroya looked at both of us seriously. “Imanio, this is your moment to define Naji publicly—for the first time. Not as a rumor or screenshot, but as your wife. If we do this right, it changes the tone of everything moving forward—interviews, appearances, brand partnerships. And most importantly… it gives her space to breathe.”
I nodded slowly, her words landing somewhere I n the middle of my chest.
“I d-don’t wanna seem like I made all this up,” I said nervously, fingers threading through each other on my lap.
“That’s exactly why we’re doing this,” Saroya replied. “To prove you didn’t. Once that picture goes up, it sets the tone. It turns whispers into confirmation, confusion into clarity, and speculation into silence.”
She folded her arms and leaned back slightly. “People will still talk, but after that, they’ll be talking about the truth … on your terms.”
Saroya glanced at her phone for a moment, then looked back at me. “And while we’re on the subject… I noticed you haven’t posted on any of your platforms in years . You have a following, Naji… a real one. People still ask about you. I think it’s time.”
Before I could say anything, Imanio cut in. “Nah.”
“No?” Saroya retorted.
Imanio leaned forward. “I don’t want her dealing with that shit again. The trolls, headlines, or muthafuckas picking apart her looks, her past. She doesn’t owe the world anything.”
“I get it, Imanio; you’re territorial, and I respect it,” Saroya tried to reason, smirking with just a touch of challenge in her tone.
“But Naji isn’t one of your buildings; she’s a person .
And people need to be able to scream when they’re being disrespected.
Naji has a voice, and not letting her use it doesn’t protect her, it silences her. ”
His jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
“I’m not here to steer either of you wrong, and you know that. I’m trying to help both of you move in the right direction.”
Saroya focused on me again, her tone softening.
“Naji, you can show up without explaining everything. You can reclaim space without reliving pain. You don’t need a comeback; you just need to exist on your own terms again. You don’t have to speak on anything today, but maybe soon.”
I nodded, her words lodging somewhere deep, not just in my mind—but in the parts of me that had stayed quiet for too long. I wasn’t ready right then, but maybe… maybe soon would come.
“I will say… you handled yesterday better than most women could’ve,” she continued. “And I don’t just mean in public; I mean after . The internet can be ruthless, but you’re still here… still standing.”
I looked up at her with tired eyes.
“Survival has been my job for the last t-twenty-nine years of my life. It’s the peace that don’t wanna stay.”
Her gaze lingered on me, eyes filled with knowing. “Then make it stay… both of you… together.”
Imanio finally nodded, slowly. “Aight.”
Saroya took a deep breath, stood, and straightened her posture.
“Good to know we’re on the same page. Now, Imanio, I need you to call your sister, tell her we need the entire nine yards at this house in the next hour.
That means racks of designer dresses in neutral and bold tones for Naji—silks, satins, fitted gowns, modern two-pieces.
Undergarments. Jewelry. Heels in every shade.
As for you—I want tailored suits, crisp button-ups, rich earth tones, or classic black.
Keep it fitted, nothing loud. I want both of you sitting next to each other looking like legacy in the flesh. ”
Saroya stood then started toward the sunroom doors, leading to the outside, heels clicking confidently.
“And since I had to rush over here in a damn panic, I didn’t eat,” she added over her shoulder.
“So have one of your chefs prepare me something light —grilled, clean, nothing greasy… and some coffee. I’m stepping out into this beautiful backyard of y’all’s to make a few calls. I’ll be back in fifteen.”
Then she was gone—with the grace of a queen and the steel of a hitwoman.
I chuckled under my breath. “You definitely picked the right publicist.”
“She aight,” he smirked, then included, “Nah, she’s good. Let me call Dess.”
Within three hours, everything changed—not just how I looked, but how I felt .
There was no peace that morning.
No soft piano music or birds chirping outside the window — it was organized chaos.
Saroya and Dessign had called in a full crew. The photoshoot, however, wasn’t going to take place at our home—it would occur at the one Imanio used for photo shoots, press junkets, and brand deals.
Upon arrival, Imanio and I were ushered into different prep rooms like we were starring in a fashion film instead of just trying to defend our marriage from internet gossip.
Stylists rushed around me—pinning, fluffing, brushing, and adjusting.
Hair dryers hummed in one room while steam rose from irons in another.
Luggage-sized makeup kits were cracked open like treasure chests, and the soft buzz of wardrobe stylists checking hangers could be heard over the shuffle of feet moving through the house like a mission was underway—because it was.
I stayed still, unbothered.
Surprisingly, my tics were on their somewhat best behavior that day.
Then again, they always acted up more when I was angry or scared—nervous more than excited.
But that day I wasn’t anxious; I was standing in something new.
Unfamiliar, yes—but not terrifying. And maybe, just maybe, my body knew the difference.
Once my hair was styled, Dessign came up next to me with her arms crossed, grinning like a proud big sister.
“I told you that shape would eat!” she complimented.
My hair… it was gone; not just trimmed —cut.
What was once thick, curly, and falling past my shoulders had now been chopped into something bold, and sharp.
It was tapered low on the sides and back, with the top shaped just enough to give my curls volume and definition.
It wasn’t part of the original plan, but Dessign and Saroya—more so Dessign—had convinced me to do so.
“You… you really like it?”
“Heck yes, boo! New chapter, new crown! Naji, you’re too fine to be out here hiding behind old hair and old energy!
Now I couldn’t do it. But you? You got the cheekbones for it.
The confidence? We’re working on that. But this?
This is a reset. It gives classy with a clapback, baby!
You look like somebody who’s survived something and dares anybody to question it.
And today, when you walk on that set, I want you to own that photoshoot. ”
I nodded, though I still had makeup and wardrobe ahead before my look was complete. The finishing touches would pull it all together, but the weight of her words already had me standing taller.
When I stepped out into the main hall fully dressed, Dessign was the first to catch her breath.
“Whew!” she whistled, eyes sweeping over me. “Yeah… y’all about to hurt some feelings today.”
The gown they chose was a champagne silk, off-the-shoulder, with a subtle shimmer that glowed with every turn of my body.
It fit like it had been made for me. My makeup was soft and natural…
barely there, with a glow that said I woke up like this —even though I very much hadn’t.
And the diamond band on my finger? That was the loudest accessory of all.
From another direction, Imanio entered the space—sharp and clean in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves pushed up, charcoal slacks hugging him in all the right ways, and that infamous watch on his wrist. The one that said he had power, time, and enemies… but wasn’t pressed.
Imanio admired me like I was the only person breathing in the room.
How is it possible for someone to look at me like I’m the only thing keeping the earth spinning?
Some days I didn’t feel beautiful, but when he looked at me like that, I knew without a doubt that I was.
Imanio leaned in, his mouth barely a breath from my ear.
“This dress? It’s just a delay. I already made up my mind that after this shoot, I’ma have you up against a wall, still wearing that diamond, but nothing else.
They gon’ post these pictures, but I’m the only one who gets the unedited version.
You can smile for the camera now, but make sure you moan for me later. ”
He pulled back and winked.
That wink should be illegal. If he licks his lips next, I’m gonna risk it all—even with the crew still here. The whole photo shoot is getting canceled due to “emergency bed rest.”
We were led outside, to a part of the property set up for the shoot.
Clean backdrop. Natural light. Expensive equipment.
The team scrambled into position.
“Alright, we’re rolling!” Saroya called, clipboard in hand and fire in her stride. “Let’s get him standing behind her, hand on shoulder—not too tight, but firm. Naji, legs crossed at the ankle, chin slightly down—yes, like that!”
Dessign sat just off to the side, biting her lip in concentration.
Saroya continued. “Now tilt your head, Naji. A little less. Good! Imanio, turn your body slightly. Keep your pocket pose but angle your face toward the camera. No—not like that!”
“Less assassin, bro, and more 'I love her, but I will shoot for her!’” Dessign playfully suggested.
Everyone around us laughed.
“Yes! There we go!” Saroya approved.
The camera clicked. The flash popped. Another pose.
“Hand on her waist! Let her lean into you just a little! Naji, don’t smile with your mouth—smile with your eyes. There you go,” the photographer murmured, his voice full of creative adrenaline as he adjusted his lens.
Then he lowered the camera just long enough to gape in awe.
“I still can’t believe I’m capturing the one and only Naji Ali,” he exclaimed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Like… I’ve followed your work for years! You were it —you still are. These angles? This lighting? You’re magic in front of a lens!”
I felt the unmistakable warmth of a blush claim my features.
“Okay, let’s focus,” Saroya playfully interrupted from behind the monitor. “Depending on how well these turn out, we may just keep you on the team.”
She winked, but that only made things worse.
The poor man damn near clutched his chest. “Wait—seriously? Please say that again! Say it into the camera! I’ll do anything ! You want champagne?! Lavender oil in the air? I’ll make it happen!”
Imanio snorted quietly behind me. “You trying to be her photographer or propose?”
I elbowed his side before he could say more.
Imanio pulled me closer. “Ease up before you pass out, man,” he added, with a slight smirk.
“I’m calm!” the photographer exclaimed as he frantically snapped another round of shots. “I’m just living the dream!”
“Good!” Saroya said smoothly. “Now live it silently! Keep working!”
The guy displayed a bashful grin and went back to directing the next pose, still glowing like he’d won a Grammy for holding a camera.
Saroya beamed excitedly. “The internet is about to break with this one!”
Dessign chuckled and added, “No, shatter .”
From behind the lens, the photographer agreed.
“These photos aren’t just defending your story, they’re telling it! This is Black love! This is elegance! This is power !”
The next flash went off.
My chin tilted, and Imanio’s hand slid just a little lower.
I held the pose, but my breath hitched as I felt his lips near my ear.
“You look too damn good in this dress, baby. You gon’ look even better when I peel it off—slow… while you’re begging me not to ruin it… and I do anyway.”
His voice was low, possessive, and tainted with wicked promise. Surprisingly, no one else caught it.
Not the photographer. Not the stylist adjusting the angle of my heel. Not even Dessign, who was beaming from the sidelines… just us.
I didn’t respond; I just kept posing and… breathing.