Chapter 1: The Worst Kind of Silence
The rain in Lagos didn’t fall gently it poured like it had something to prove.
Amara Bennett stood outside her apartment building, suitcase soaked at her feet, staring at the notice taped to her door.
EVICTION NOTICE
Her name was printed neatly at the top, like that made it more polite.
For a moment, she didn’t move. Not because she didn’t understand it but because she did.
She had three missed rent payments. Three warnings. And now, one final sentence.
Behind her, the landlord’s assistant dragged out her last box of belongings and dropped it on the pavement without looking at her.
“You can’t just—” Amara started, then stopped herself. Her voice sounded too small in the rain.
The man shrugged. “Not my problem. Talk to your landlord.”
Then he left her there.
Alone.
The box at her feet leaked something fabric, papers, pieces of a life she had carefully tried to build. Her sketchbooks were inside. Her designs. Her almost-future.
She crouched slowly, fingers trembling as she picked one up. The pages were slightly blurred from moisture, but she could still see her lines.
Rooms she would never design. Homes she would never build.
Her phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
She didn’t want to look.
But she did.
Client Cancelled: We’ve decided to go with a more established designer.
No explanation. No apology. Just a clean cut.
Amara laughed under her breath, but there was no humour in it.
“Of course,” she whispered to herself. “Why not?”
She stood there for a moment longer, rain soaking through her shirt, until her phone buzzed again.
This time, it wasn’t a message.
It was a call from her younger brother.
She hesitated before answering.
“Hey,” she said, forcing brightness into her voice.
“Amara…” His voice was careful. Too careful. “Did you pay the hospital bill?”
Silence.
She closed her eyes.
“I’m working on it,” she said quickly.
A pause.
“Are you okay?”
That question almost broke her.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
Another pause, softer this time. “You don’t sound fine.”
Amara swallowed hard. “I just… I need a little time.”
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Just don’t disappear on me, yeah?”
“I won’t.”
She ended the call before her voice could betray her.
For a while, she just stood there in the rain, holding her broken pieces of life in cardboard boxes, wondering how everything collapsed so fast.
Then her landlord’s building security light flickered on.
Meaning she couldn’t stay there either.
She exhaled slowly.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Okay. We survive.”
She grabbed her suitcase.
And that was when the black car pulled up.
Silent.
Expensive.
Too clean for this street.
The back window rolled down smoothly.
A man sat inside.
Not smiling.
Not rushing.
Just watching her like he already knew her story.
“Miss Bennett,” he said calmly.
Amara blinked. “Yes?”
“I represent someone who would like to speak with you.”
She let out a short laugh. “I’m a bit busy being homeless right now.”
He didn’t react.
Instead, he opened the car door.
“And what if I told you,” he said, “that your situation… can be solved in one conversation?”
Amara narrowed her eyes. “I don’t do scams.”
“This isn’t a scam.”
“Everybody says that.”
A pause.
Then he added, almost casually:
“My employer is prepared to offer you a marriage contract.”
The rain suddenly felt louder.
Amara froze.
“…I’m sorry?” she said slowly.
The man finally looked at her properly.
And for the first time, she noticed something unsettling
He wasn’t joking.
And neither was the offer.
