CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Old friend’s, old enemies.”
Zara barely slept.
She told herself it was because she'd had too much coffee.
Because she'd spent the evening finalising seating plans.
Because New York never really went quiet.
But deep down, she knew the truth.
She couldn't stop thinking about Malik.
Not about the man who laughed with children or teased her over orange juice.
The man she'd seen standing outside Foundation House.
His shoulders had been tense.
His smile had disappeared.
For the first time since meeting him...
He'd looked like someone carrying the weight of another life.
The following morning, Bellamy & Co. was unusually calm.
Naomi walked into Zara's office carrying two coffees.
"You look terrible."
"Good morning to you too."
"You didn't sleep."
"I slept."
"For how long?"
Zara shrugged.
"A few hours."
Naomi handed her a latte.
"You've got the 'I'm pretending everything's fine' face."
"I have a face for that?"
"Oh, absolutely."
Zara laughed.
"I've just been thinking."
"About Malik?"
She didn't answer.
Naomi smiled knowingly.
"I knew it."
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?"
Zara stared into her coffee.
"I think something's wrong."
"With him?"
"I don't know."
Naomi's expression softened.
"Has he said anything?"
"No."
"Then maybe he's dealing with something in his own time."
Zara nodded.
She knew Naomi was right.
It just didn't stop her worrying.
Across Brooklyn, Malik stood in the boxing gym where he'd trained as a teenager.
The place hadn't changed much.
The same worn wooden floors.
The same faded championship posters.
The same smell of sweat and leather.
Coach Raymond was wrapping hand bandages behind the counter when Malik walked in.
"Took you long enough."
Malik smiled faintly.
"You still know how to guilt-trip people."
"I taught your mother."
Coach Raymond embraced him briefly before stepping back.
"You alright?"
"No."
The older man studied him carefully.
"What happened?"
Malik looked around the empty gym.
"Devon's back."
Coach Raymond's face hardened instantly.
"You sure?"
"I saw him yesterday."
"And?"
"He wants something."
Coach Raymond sighed heavily.
"They always do."
Devon Harris had once been Malik's closest friend.
They'd grown up on the same streets.
Made the same mistakes.
Built the same empire.
But while Malik had chosen prison as the end of that life...
Devon had treated it like a business interruption.
Now he was back.
Older.
Richer.
And far more dangerous.
"Listen to me," Coach Raymond said firmly.
"You spent eight years rebuilding your life."
"You've got businesses."
"You've got that Foundation."
"You've got people depending on you."
"I know."
"So don't let him drag you backwards."
Malik nodded.
"I won't."
"But if he comes after what I've built..."
Coach Raymond interrupted.
"Then call the police."
Malik almost laughed.
"You know that's not how Devon works."
"No."
The older man agreed quietly.
"I know exactly how he works."
That afternoon, Zara visited Foundation House alone.
Camille had asked her to confirm measurements for the upcoming gala before the design team arrived.
As she walked through the gardens, she noticed how peaceful everything felt.
Children laughed on the basketball court.
Volunteers planted flowers.
A young boy chased bubbles across the lawn.
It was hard to imagine trouble ever finding this place.
"Morning."
She turned.
Keisha Carter stood behind her carrying two cardboard boxes.
"You must be Zara."
Zara smiled.
"You know who I am?"
"My brother talks about you."
Heat rushed into Zara's cheeks.
"He does?"
Keisha laughed.
"More than he realises."
She balanced one box on her hip.
"I'm Keisha."
"It's nice to finally meet you."
"The feeling's mutual."
Together they carried supplies into one of the classrooms.
Keisha watched Zara carefully.
"So..."
Zara smiled.
"So?"
"Do you like my brother?"
Zara nearly dropped the box.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"I..."
Keisha burst into laughter.
"I'm teasing."
"You looked terrified."
"I was."
"I know."
She placed the box on a shelf.
"You should've seen your face."
Zara laughed despite herself.
"You Carter siblings enjoy making people uncomfortable."
"We enjoy honesty."
As they organised books, Zara glanced around the classroom.
Photographs covered one wall.
Many featured Malik standing beside teenagers in graduation gowns.
Others showed family barbecues.
Community events.
Christmas parties.
One photograph caught Zara's attention.
Malik stood beside a smiling woman with kind eyes.
She looked remarkably like Keisha.
"Their mother?" Zara asked softly.
Keisha nodded.
"She was everyone's mum."
"I can tell."
Keisha smiled sadly.
"She would've loved you."
Zara looked surprised.
"You've only just met me."
"So had she."
Keisha picked up another stack of books.
"She had a gift for people."
Their conversation was interrupted by raised voices outside.
Keisha's smile disappeared.
"Stay here."
She hurried into the hallway.
Curiosity got the better of Zara.
She followed.
Outside, Malik stood near the entrance facing a man she'd never seen before.
He was tall.
Broad.
Wearing an expensive charcoal suit.
His hands rested casually in his pockets.
But there was nothing casual about the way he smiled.
"You've done well for yourself," the man said.
Malik didn't answer.
"I almost didn't recognise you."
Still silence.
The man's eyes wandered towards Foundation House.
"Fancy building."
"What do you want, Devon?"
The smile widened.
"There he is."
"The Malik I remember."
"I asked you a question."
Devon took one slow step forward.
"I've got a business opportunity."
"I'm not interested."
"You haven't heard it yet."
"I don't need to."
Several volunteers had stopped working.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Devon noticed Zara standing in the doorway.
His eyes lingered on her for a second.
Then he looked back at Malik.
"So..."
He smiled knowingly.
"...that's her."
Every muscle in Malik's body tightened.
"Leave."
"You've got good taste."
"I said leave."
For the first time, Devon's smile disappeared.
"You've forgotten where you came from."
"No."
Malik's voice remained calm.
"I just chose not to stay there."
The two men stared at one another.
Neither blinked.
Finally Devon adjusted his jacket.
"This isn't over."
He walked back towards a waiting black SUV.
Just before climbing inside, he looked at Zara one last time.
Then the vehicle drove away.
The volunteers slowly returned to work.
Children resumed playing basketball.
The laughter returned.
But something had shifted.
Malik remained standing where he was.
His jaw clenched.
His breathing controlled.
Zara approached carefully.
"Are you okay?"
He looked at her.
For a brief second, the hardness in his expression faded.
"I'm sorry you had to see that."
"You don't owe me an apology."
"I do."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I've spent years trying to make sure people like him never found this place."
"Who is he?"
Malik looked towards the gates.
"My biggest mistake."
He met her eyes.
"And the one person I hoped you'd never have to meet."
Zara wanted to ask more.
A hundred questions filled her mind.
Instead, she said the only thing that felt right.
"I'm still here."
Those three words landed harder than she expected.
Malik looked at her for a long moment.
Then, for the first time since she'd met him...
His composure cracked.
Not completely.
Just enough for her to see the exhaustion behind his eyes.
Enough to realise that sometimes the strongest people were simply the ones who'd learned to carry the heaviest burdens in silence.