The Delivery
2257 Words
BAMIDELE HOUSE
REIGNS FASHION WORLD
The atmosphere inside Reigns Fashion World had completely changed.
The once quiet fashion house now buzzed with customers. Conversations filled every corner, heels clicked against the polished floor, shopping bags exchanged hands almost every minute, and the fitting rooms were rarely empty. Staff moved with confidence, recommending outfits with certainty rather than guesswork.
Designers who once ignored Reigns Fashion World now fought for a chance to have their collections displayed.
The promotion of Anabelle had changed everything.
Sales had risen beyond expectations.
Customer satisfaction continued to increase.
Even rival fashion houses had begun asking the same question.
What changed?
A woman in her late twenties walked into the boutique, removing her sunglasses.
"I need a dress."
One of the sales assistants immediately approached her.
"What occasion, ma'am?"
"My ex is getting married."
The assistant paused.
"I want him to regret ever leaving me."
The assistant smiled nervously.
"I... I'll be right back."
She hurried toward the manager's office.
A few seconds later, Anabelle stepped out.
She folded her arms.
"So..."
"The customer wants her ex to regret leaving her," the sales assistant whispered.
Anabelle nodded once.
"That's all?"
"That's all."
Anabelle walked toward the customer with a professional smile.
"Good afternoon, ma'am."
The woman looked at her.
"I heard you're the manager."
"I am."
"Then help me."
Anabelle studied the woman from head to toe.
Her height.
Her skin tone.
Her posture.
Even the way she stood.
After a few seconds, she turned toward a rack.
"Not red."
The customer frowned.
"I wasn't asking for your favourite colour."
"I know."
Anabelle continued walking.
"Red says you're looking for revenge."
She stopped in front of another section.
"Gold says you're trying too hard."
She shook her head.
"White sends the wrong message."
The customer crossed her arms.
"So what exactly do you suggest?"
Anabelle pulled out a deep emerald-green satin gown.
Off-the-shoulder.
Fitted through the waist.
A flowing skirt with just enough movement to command attention without begging for it.
She handed it to the customer.
"Wear this."
The woman looked doubtful.
"Why?"
Anabelle smiled.
"Because you're not trying to make him regret leaving you."
She stepped closer.
"You're trying to make him wonder if he ever deserved you."
Silence.
The customer looked at the gown again.
Then at Anabelle.
"I'll try it."
Twenty minutes later...
The fitting room curtain opened.
The boutique fell quiet.
Even the sales assistants stopped what they were doing.
The customer stared at herself in the mirror.
For the first time since walking into the boutique...
She smiled.
"I'll take it."
Anabelle nodded.
"I know."
The customer laughed.
"I like your confidence."
"It isn't confidence."
Anabelle replied calmly.
"It's fashion."
The customer left with two shopping bags instead of one.
The sales assistant hurried toward Anabelle.
"Manager!"
"Hmm?"
"How do you always know?"
Anabelle looked around the boutique.
"Fashion speaks."
The assistant looked confused.
"You just have to know how to listen."
Before the assistant could ask another question, another customer raised her hand.
"Excuse me!"
"I need help!"
Anabelle smiled to herself.
Another challenge.
Another story.
Another outfit waiting to speak.
REIGNS FASHION WORLD
"Manager, there's a customer asking specifically for you."
Anabelle looked up from the display she was rearranging.
"For me?"
"Yes."
She nodded and walked toward the VIP section.
The moment she stepped in, she knew this wasn't an ordinary customer.
A young woman sat elegantly with one leg crossed over the other, scrolling through her phone. Beside her stood a professionally dressed manager while two bodyguards remained a respectful distance away.
Even seated, she carried herself like someone accustomed to getting exactly what she wanted.
Anabelle walked over.
"Good afternoon, ma'am."
The woman did not respond immediately.
She finished reading whatever was on her phone before finally lifting her eyes.
"You're the manager?"
"I am."
"You look younger than I expected."
"I get that a lot."
"I need a dress."
"What occasion?"
The woman held Anabelle's gaze.
"A private event."
"What kind of event?"
Silence.
Then she answered.
"A bride selection."
Anabelle simply nodded.
"And who's the groom?"
"Thiago Adebayo."
Anabelle searched her memory.
The name sounded familiar.
She had heard customers mention him before.
A billionaire.
Young.
Handsome.
Impossible to approach.
That was about all she knew.
"What impression are you trying to create?"
"I don't need attention."
Anabelle smiled slightly.
"No woman preparing this much is avoiding attention."
The woman narrowed her eyes.
"I need him to remember me."
Now that...
Anabelle understood.
She slowly walked through the boutique, her fingers brushing across different fabrics.
"No."
She moved to another rack.
"Too loud."
Another.
"Too romantic."
Another.
"Too desperate."
She finally stopped.
Her hand rested on a black gown.
An off-the-shoulder corset bodice.
Layers of chiffon and organza flowing in controlled disorder.
Elegant.
Powerful.
Quiet.
She lifted it carefully.
"This."
The woman frowned.
"Black?"
"Yes."
"Convince me."
Anabelle turned the gown slightly.
"Most women chase attention."
She looked at the dress.
"This one doesn't."
"It waits."
The room became quiet.
"This isn't the kind of dress that walks into a room asking people to notice it."
She met the woman's eyes.
"It walks in expecting they already will."
The woman remained expressionless.
Anabelle continued.
"People misunderstand chaos."
"They think it's noise."
She gently traced the uneven layers.
"Real chaos is controlled."
"It stays quiet until everyone realizes they're already overwhelmed."
Silence.
The woman reached for the gown.
"So this is your answer."
"It is."
Another few seconds passed.
Finally...
"Pack it."
Her manager immediately stepped forward to receive the gown.
"Send the bill to my PA."
"Yes, ma'am."
The manager nodded.
As Anabelle turned to leave, the woman spoke again.
"One more thing."
Anabelle stopped.
"I don't want your delivery staff bringing this dress."
Anabelle frowned slightly.
"Our delivery team handles all—"
"I wasn't asking."
The interruption was calm but absolute.
"You will deliver it."
"My schedule—"
"Adjust it."
Anabelle looked at her for a second.
She had dealt with difficult customers before.
This one wasn't difficult.
She was simply used to being obeyed.
"Very well."
The woman stood.
"My manager will send you the address."
She took two steps before stopping again.
Without looking back, she said,
"If your choice disappoints me..."
A brief pause.
"...don't expect me to return as a customer."
Then she walked away.
Only after she disappeared did one of the sales assistants quietly move closer.
"Manager..."
"Hmm?"
"Who was she?"
Anabelle exhaled.
"A woman who's very used to hearing 'yes.'"
Her phone vibrated.
A new message appeared.
Delivery Address Received.
THIAGO ADEBAYO MANSION
The address on Anabelle's phone made her pause.
Thiago Adebayo Mansion.
"So the target really is Thiago Adebayo."
She looked at the carefully wrapped gown on the passenger seat before leaning back.
"Desperate."
She shook her head.
"Actually... she should've gone for something even more desperate. Sometimes it isn't the dress that ruins the intention."
"It's the person wearing it."
The taxi slowed to a stop.
"We're here, madam."
Anabelle paid the fare, picked up the package and stepped out.
A pair of towering black gates stood before her.
She expected what every billionaire seemed to love.
A ridiculously long driveway.
Rows of exotic trees.
Enough flowers to start a botanical garden.
Instead...
The entrance was surprisingly simple.
Clean.
Minimal.
Almost... ordinary.
"I expected more."
She walked toward the security checkpoint.
"I'm here to deliver a package for Miss Sharon Chinedu."
One of the guards stepped forward.
"Your name?"
"Anabelle."
He checked a tablet before nodding.
"You may enter."
The gates slid open.
Anabelle blinked.
"So easy?"
She adjusted the package in her arms and continued walking.
Only a few more steps...
Then she stopped.
"...I spoke too soon."
The mansion stood before her.
It didn't scream wealth.
It didn't need to.
Dark stone blended perfectly with polished glass and steel, each line of the architecture so precise it felt intentional rather than decorative. Massive windows reflected the evening sky while soft lights hidden within the walls gave the building a quiet elegance.
Nothing about it begged to be admired.
It simply assumed it would be.
The gardens were trimmed with mathematical precision.
The reflecting pools were perfectly still.
Even the silence carried authority.
Anabelle slowly turned in a circle.
"When rich people decide to surprise you..."
She laughed softly.
"They make sure the memory stays with you."
The front doors opened before she could admire it any longer.
A professionally dressed woman approached.
"You should be Miss Anabelle."
"I am."
"I'm Miss Sharon's manager."
She gestured politely.
"This way."
Anabelle followed.
The inside was even more breathtaking.
Marble.
Walnut.
Bronze.
Everything expensive.
Yet strangely...
Nothing felt excessive.
It was luxurious without showing off.
Whoever owned this house had money.
Enough money not to prove it.
After several turns through unfamiliar hallways, they stopped outside a luxurious guest suite.
The manager knocked once.
"Miss Sharon."
"Come in."
The door opened.
Sharon sat comfortably on a sofa as though she had lived there for years.
"The dress."
Anabelle handed the package to Sharon's manager.
She inspected it before passing it to Sharon.
Without even looking at Anabelle, Sharon spoke.
"Leave it there."
The manager obeyed.
After checking the gown, Sharon gave a small nod.
"It'll do."
Anabelle forced a professional smile.
"If there's nothing else, I'd like to leave."
Sharon didn't even raise her head.
"Show her out."
"Yes, Miss."
The manager led Anabelle back into the hallway.
Halfway through the corridor...
The manager's phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
Her expression changed.
"Excuse me for a moment."
Before Anabelle could answer, the manager hurried away, disappearing around the corner.
"Hello?"
Silence.
"...Hello?"
No response.
Anabelle looked left.
Then right.
Every hallway looked exactly the same.
"Wonderful."
She sighed.
"I've officially gotten myself lost in a billionaire's mansion."
Holding the empty garment bag under her arm, she chose the hallway to her left.
"Surely..."
She muttered.
"...someone in this house knows where the exit is."
THIAGO ADEBAYO MANSION
Anabelle had always believed rich people had complicated houses.
She just didn't expect them to be complicated enough to make someone need a map.
Every hallway looked similar.
Every door looked like it belonged somewhere important.
And the worst part?
There was no one around.
"No maids, no staff, nothing."
She looked around.
"Do they just expect people to magically know where they're going?"
She continued walking, hoping she would eventually find someone who could direct her outside.
Then she heard voices.
Finally.
A smile appeared on her face.
"Thank God."
She followed the sound carefully until she reached a partially opened door.
Her hand was already moving to knock when a voice stopped her.
"The moment I saw the invitation, I knew I had to come."
Anabelle paused.
She looked inside.
Several women were gathered in the room.
Unlike the usual guests she had seen in mansions, these women were dressed like they were preparing for a competition.
Designer gowns.
Professional makeup.
Perfect hairstyles.
Anabelle frowned.
"What's going on?"
She stayed quiet and listened.
"I almost gave up when I saw the requirements," one woman said while adjusting her earrings.
"The age requirement was ridiculous."
Another woman laughed.
"At least you qualified."
"Of course I did. My birthday is still three years away from the limit."
Anabelle's eyebrows lifted.
"Age requirement?"
The woman continued.
"And the invitation was the hardest part. Do you know how many people wanted one?"
She looked at her reflection.
"I spent so much just to get here."
Another woman sitting nearby scoffed.
"Everyone here did."
Anabelle looked around.
Everyone?
A woman applying lipstick spoke.
"Let's be honest. We all know why we're here."
She smiled at herself.
"Thiago Adebayo."
The name caught Anabelle's attention.
She had heard it before.
But only as a name.
A billionaire.
A businessman.
Nothing more.
"The youngest billionaire and you expect women not to fight for him?" another woman said.
"Exactly. Wealth, power, looks..."
She shrugged.
"He's basically impossible to ignore."
Anabelle shook her head quietly.
"So this is what all this is about?"
A bride selection.
For a man.
She found it strange.
Not because of the man himself.
She didn't even know him.
But because of how easily people were willing to compete for someone they barely knew.
Then another voice spoke.
"Don't forget Sharon Chinedu is here."
That made everyone react.
"Chief Odugwu Chinedu's daughter?"
"Yes."
"She actually came?"
"Why wouldn't she? She's been after Thiago for years."
Anabelle's eyes widened slightly.
"Wait..."
She looked toward the room.
"Sharon?"
The same Sharon who had just bought the dress?
The woman who acted like everything already belonged to her?
One of the girls laughed.
"She probably didn't need an invitation. People like her always find their way in."
Another adjusted her dress.
"But I want to see if she really came as a candidate."
"Why wouldn't she?"
"Because Sharon doesn't like looking like she's competing."
The room filled with laughter.
Anabelle stepped back slowly.
This was not where she was supposed to be.
She had come to deliver a dress.
That was all.
She didn't belong in a room full of women preparing to be chosen by a man whose name she barely knew.
Carefully, she turned around.
One step.
Two steps.
Three—
Something stopped her.
Not something.
Someone.
She froze.
Slowly, she turned around.
A man stood behind her.
Tall.
Calm.
Watching her with an unreadable expression.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then his voice broke the silence.
"You are out of place."
- Writer
