HOW HARD IS IT TO LOVE

*Chapter 1: She knelt in the rain, drenched to the bones, picking crumbs from the dog's plate and stuffing them gently into her mouth. What a perfect way to say you're not needed. The rain hit her like stones. Her hair was plastered onto her face. Her uniform from the orphanage was torn and muddy. She had not eaten for two days. Behind her, laughter exploded. "Well, well, look what we have here," a man's voice said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You poor thing. How dare you enter my compound without my permission?" Everyone around him burst into laughter. She didn't look up, she couldn't. Shame was heavier than hunger. It was the chief's son's birthday party. The big house with a white and black gate. She had only come in because the gate was open and the smell of the fried meat was too strong to resist. She thought she could just take the leftovers the dogs didn't want. She was wrong. "Since you feel you can come in here and eat like you own this house," he continued, stepping closer. His expensive shoes stopped right in front of her face. "You're going to do the dirty dishes in here, you homeless vulture." More laughter. Someone poured water on her. "At this point, let all the guests get settled. Let me entertain my guests with this little show," he said, turning to his friends who were holding a glass of champagne. This was the very day she ran from the orphanage. She had run because there was no comfort there. No love. The everyday maltreatment and constant torture was too much, and she had no one to speak for her. Everyone feared the owner of the orphanage home, "The General" as she was called. The matron made things more difficult. She constantly said, "Even though you die eventually, no one will know." But where does an 18-year-old orphan go in Lagos with no money and no family? So she told herself, "Anywhere could be better than here." So she ran. She ran for hours until her feet bled. No place to go. It seemed the rain had waited for her to make a move, it rained as though the heavens had lost its grip. She thought it would wash away her pains. She was wrong. After the man and his friends finally got tired of mocking her, she crawled out of the compound. The day had placed her in a marathon. She ran until she could no longer hear their laughter. A few miles away from the big house, on the lonely road that led to the town, she saw it. A black SUV parked by the side of the road, its boot was open. An open boot? She thought. For her, it wasn't a car. It was a roof. It was a hiding place from the rain, from the laughter, from the world that kept on saying she wasn't needed. She looked around. No one was there. The driver must have gone to buy something. With the last strength left in her legs, she crawled to the car and curled herself under the pile of coats in the boot. She hid under it. The coats smelled like expensive perfume. "Not like those the general had lied about, she had gotten them outside the country, which she later heard from the matron. The day they had an issue that it was all lies," she thought to herself. It was warm. For the first time in two days, she felt safe. She closed her eyes. She just wanted to sleep for five minutes. She didn't know that the black SUV belonged to Edward Smith. The most ruthless and youngest billionaire in Lagos, the one who never forgives and never forgets. And he was walking back to his car right at that moment, with his cold eyes and his phone pressed to his ear. He walked to the back of the car. He opened the boot. And she was still sleeping inside.