Page 258 of Invisible Bars
“Then approach this like a man who’s defending his peace rather than one who’s eager for a fight. Are we clear on that?”
After a brief, tense moment, I nodded in agreement.
“Yeah. Let’s shut this shit down.”
The flash of cameras hit like lightning as I stepped onto the small stage at the podium, flanked by two guards, with Saroya observing from a distance, her sharp gaze scanning the crowded audience.
The room was packed—journalists shoulder-to-shoulder. Phones and cameras jutted into the air like eager hands, eachrecording device thirsting to capture the moment. Whispers of speculation and excitement rose around me before I even opened my mouth.
Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward, ready to address the sea of faces before me.
Click. Flash. Click.
“Good afternoon. I’ll keep this brief out of respect for everyone’s time and my own. I want to address the rumors that have been circulating online over the past seventy-two hours. Let me be clear: The claim that I am expecting a child with Aaliyah Daniels is false.”
Gasps filled the air as more camera flashes went off. Fingers tapped away at live tweets and real-time captions.
“While I generally don’t respond to gossip, this lie affects not just me, but my wife and the integrity of my name. My wife, Naji Kors, is the only woman I’ve committed my name, my legacy, and my peace to.”
Saroya gave a small, affirming nod.
One reporter yelled out from the back. “Imanio, has there been any communication between you and the woman making the claim?”
I took in a deep breath before answering. “There is no relationship between us, romantic or otherwise, beyond a brief and distant past encounter.”
Another voice cut in from the side. “Why do you think she would lie about something so serious?”
“Some people want relevance,” I replied evenly. “And some people are willing to burn their last bridge to get it.”
A different reporter leaned forward, voice sharp. “Why did it take you days to respond?”
“My silence wasn’t guilt,” I answered, locking eyes with the cameras. “It was restraint. But when lies get loud, truth has to stand taller.”
From the front row, someone pressed, “Once all this clears, will you be taking legal action?”
I gave the slightest shrug. “I’m not here to discuss legal strategy. But trust—it’s being handled.”
A reporter from the middle row stood up. “Has this allegation affected your marriage?”
I didn’t respond immediately. My jaw clenched, a reminder to myself not to explode under the lights.
Finally, I spoke, “No. If anything, it reminded me how much I value loyalty, truth, and a real woman who doesn’t need clout to shine.”
Another voice shot from the back. “Are you saying this woman fabricated a pregnancy entirely?”
I turned my head directly toward the cameras.
“I’m saying some people carry delusion like a child—full term. This one just didn’t make it to delivery.”
The room stirred, then another question pierced the air.
“What would you like to say to Aaliyah if she were here today?”
I tightened my grip on the podium.
“I would let her know that false pregnancy claims are not just messy, they’re dangerous. They hurt real mothers, real fathers, and real children. I don’t wish her harm; I wish her healing. And I hope—genuinely—that she finds whatever it is she’s looking for. But it won’t be in my name.”
I straightened, scanning the room one last time. “No further questions.”
