OYE AND PEDRO: WHEN THE SQUARE REMEMBERS CHAPTER ONE: THE BREATH OF THE SQUARE The village square of Abeni breathed like a living thing.At dawn, when the sky was still pale and undecided, the square stretched itself awake. The red earth was cool beneath bare feet, and the ancient iroko tree at the center stood unmoving, watching over everything as it had done for generations.People said the square had a spirit. That it remembered every cry, every promise, every betrayal. Some believed that if you stood beneath the iroko at midnight and listened carefully, you could hear the voices of the dead arguing softly with the living.This morning, Oye stood alone beneath that tree.He had arrived before the birds, before the women with their baskets, before the children with their laughter. He liked the square this way — quiet, honest, unmasked.Oye placed his palm against the iroko’s rough bark.“I’m here,” he whispered, as if greeting an old friend.The wind moved through the leaves, slow and heavy. CHAPTER TWO: OYE, SON OF ASHES Oye was not born quiet. Silence had been forced upon him.Years ago, fire had swallowed his childhood home. The smell of smoke still lived in his memory. He remembered his mother pushing him toward the bush, shouting his name, her eyes wide with fear and love. He remembered turning back once — just once — and seeing flames where his life used to be.The village rebuilt him, piece by piece.Now, at twenty-eight, Oye carried strength in his shoulders and restraint in his eyes. He was a farmer, a hunter, a protector, though no title had ever been officially given to him.People trusted him because he never lied.He sat on the wooden bench beneath the iroko, set down his basket of kola nuts, and waited. CHAPTER THREE: PEDRO, SON OF ROADS Laughter broke the quiet like a stone on water.“Oye! If you keep coming this early, the spirits will start charging you rent.”Oye smiled before he even turned.Pedro came into the square with dust on his sandals and mischief in his eyes. His skin was lighter than most in Abeni, his accent slightly different, his smile dangerously charming. He carried the confidence of someone who had nothing to lose and everything to enjoy.Pedro dropped beside Oye and stretched his legs.“You know,” he said, “one day this square will tell stories about us.”Oye snorted softly. “I hope it edits yours.”Pedro laughed. “Impossible. Legends must be dramatic.”They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun climb. CHAPTER FOUR: THE WOMEN WHO SAW EVERYTHING By mid-morning, the square filled with color and sound.Mama Tinu arrived first, her wrapper tight, her eyes sharper than a knife.“Hmmm,” she muttered. “This day smells like trouble.”She greeted Oye warmly and eyed Pedro suspiciously. “You, foreign boy, don’t bring problems today.”Pedro placed a hand on his chest. “Mama, I am peace itself.”She laughed dryly. “Then peace has a loud mouth.”Not far behind came Zainab, the potter; Ngozi, the cloth seller; and Old Sola, who spoke rarely but saw deeply.Then Aisha stepped into the square.Her presence shifted the air.She was the daughter of the village healer, known for her sharp mind and fearless tongue. She carried herbs and knowledge in equal measure.Oye felt her before he saw her.Pedro leaned in. “I swear the earth listens when she walks.”Oye said nothing — but his heart answered. CHAPTER FIVE: RUMORS LIKE SMOKE Rumors arrived the way smoke did — quietly, then everywhere.“They came at night,” someone whispered.“I saw torches near the river,” another added.Mama Tinu clapped her hands dramatically. “I told you!”The elders gathered beneath the iroko tree. Chief Adebola, old but unbroken, leaned heavily on his staff.“We must be careful,” he said. “Fear destroys faster than enemies.”Pedro crossed his arms. “Or enemies destroy while we debate.”Aisha stepped forward, calm but firm. “Let us seek truth, not panic.”Oye watched her speak, admiration blooming quietly inside him. CHAPTER SIX: OLD FEARS, NEW SHADOWS That evening, Pedro and Oye walked the edge of the square.“You feel it too,” Pedro said. “That tightening in the air.”Oye nodded. “Something is circling.”Pedro’s voice dropped. “If it’s the past, will you face it?”Oye stopped walking. “I never stopped facing it. ”CHAPTER SEVEN: THE MAN WHO SHOULD NOT RETURN Night wrapped the square in darkness.The moon hid behind clouds.Oye stood beneath the iroko when a voice came from the shadows.“You grew taller.”Oye’s blood went cold.“Kareem. OYE AND AISHA: WHEN SILENCE FALLS IN LOVECHAPTER EIGHT: THE DEBT OF BLOOD By dawn, the truth spilled.Kareem had once been part of Abeni — ambitious, cruel, banished after betrayal. Now he returned with outsiders, seeking control of the fertile river land.“They plan to take the square,” Pedro said.“And break the village,” Aisha added.Chief Adebola’s voice shook with anger. “Over my dead body.” CHAPTER NINE: THE FESTIVAL AS A MASK Drums thundered Dancers filled the square food freely oye watched closely

THE CEO AND THE LOST MAFIA QUEEN Part One: Ashes of Silk and Blood Chapter One: The Woman Who Should Have Been Dead Shanghai never slept—it only pretended to rest. Neon lights bled into the rain-slicked streets, skyscrapers rising like cold gods over the city. Power lived here. Money breathed here. And secrets were buried so deep even the earth forgot them. On the rooftop of a private hospital in Pudong, a woman lay unconscious. Her name—once feared across Asia—had been erased. Black hair clung to her pale face, damp with rain and blood. A bullet wound burned just below her left rib, expertly stitched but still dangerous. Her hands were delicate, almost elegant… except for the scars. Gun scars. Knife scars. The hands of someone who had killed and survived. A nurse whispered shakily to the doctor beside her. “She came in with no ID. No phone. No one looking for her.” The doctor frowned. “Run her fingerprints again.” The system returned nothing. As if she had never existed. If the underworld of China had known where she was, they would have burned the hospital to the ground. Because Lin Xueyi, the Mafia Queen of the Eastern Syndicate, was not supposed to be alive. Chapter Two: The Man Who Owned the City Lu Chen did not rush. Men rushed when they were weak, desperate, or emotional. Lu Chen was none of those things. At thirty-two, he was the youngest CEO in Shanghai’s financial history. Chen Global Holdings touched everything—real estate, tech, shipping, pharmaceuticals. Governments negotiated with him. Criminals feared him. Investors worshipped him. He sat alone in the back seat of his black Maybach, eyes calm, voice low. “Confirm it again,” he said into the phone. His assistant swallowed nervously. “The hospital camera picked her up at 2:17 a.m. She collapsed outside the ER. Bullet wound. No identity.” Lu Chen’s fingers stilled. Bullet wound. No identity. Female. Eastern side of the city. Too clean. Too familiar. “And her face?” he asked. A pause. “…Sir. You should see it yourself.” That was enough. Lu Chen ended the call and looked out the window as Shanghai passed by in light and shadow. He had spent years dismantling criminal networks with spreadsheets instead of guns—but some instincts never died. The car stopped. When he stepped into the hospital corridor, something shifted. He felt it. The same feeling he’d had years ago—when he’d stood across a negotiation table from a woman dressed in white silk, eyes colder than a loaded gun. A woman rumored to rule the Eastern Syndicate without mercy. A woman who had vanished in a bloodbath two years ago. Lu Chen opened the door to the private room. And saw her. Chapter Three: Recognition Without Memory She looked… smaller. Not weak. Never that. But quieter. As if the fire that once terrified entire cities had been smothered under ash. Lu Chen stood still, studying her face. Sharp cheekbones. Long lashes. A faint scar near her right eyebrow. There was no doubt. Lin Xueyi. The Mafia Queen who had once stared him down and said, “Men like you don’t own the world. You borrow it.” And now she didn’t recognize him. Her eyes fluttered open. Dark. Focused. Instinctively alert. She scanned the room in half a second, her body tensing despite the injury. Her gaze landed on Lu Chen—and held. No recognition. Only suspicion. “Who are you?” she asked hoarsely. Lu Chen felt something dangerous stir in his chest. Not fear. Interest. “I could ask you the same thing,” he replied calmly. She frowned. “I don’t remember.” A lie? No. Lu Chen saw the truth in her eyes. The most powerful woman in the Eastern underworld had lost her memory. Outside the room, his assistant whispered urgently. “Sir, should I call security? Or—” “No,” Lu Chen said quietly. He looked back at the woman who had once ruled blood and loyalty, now lying defenseless in white sheets. “From this moment,” he said, voice unreadable, “she’s under my protection.” Lin Xueyi watched him, confused… and strangely drawn to the calm danger in his presence. She didn’t know it yet. But the man standing before her would become: her shield her enemy her lover and the key to reclaiming—or destroying—everything she once was. 🌹 End of Part 1 (Chapters 1–3) I Part 2, She stays in Lu Chen’s private penthouse The mafia begins hunting her Their slow-burn tension turns dangerous She starts showing terrifying instincts she can’t explain