THE PRICE OF LOVE

CHAPTER 2

3 YEARS GONE

---

I didn’t sleep that night.

₦50,000,000.

6 months.

Be his girlfriend.

The words kept playing in my head like a broken record.

At 4am I gave up and made tea.

At 6am I was ironing my only good dress.

At 9am I was in a danfo going to Victoria Island.

With ₦500 for transport and a heart that felt like glass.

Daniels Tower was 40 floors of glass and arrogance.

I told reception "I have an appointment with Mr. Daniels."

She didn’t even look up. "Name?"

"Marvel Adeyemi."

Her head snapped up.

"Wait here."

2 minutes later a man in a suit came down.

"Ms. Adeyemi? I’m James, Mr. Daniels’ PA.

Follow me."

The elevator was all mirror.

I looked at myself.

Same girl.

Different life.

Hair in a low bun.

Simple blue dress.

₦5,000 sandals.

I looked poor.

Floor 40.

The office was bigger than my sister’s entire house.

Floor to ceiling windows.

Lagos stretched out below.

And behind a desk that cost more than my school fees was Mark Daniels.

He stood up when I came in.

Tall.

6’2 maybe.

Black suit.

No tie.

Hair cut sharp.

Beard trimmed.

He looked like money.

Like power.

Like trouble.

"Ms. Adeyemi," he said.

Voice deep.

"Thank you for coming."

"Mr. Daniels."

"Mark."

"Mark."

We sat.

His PA brought water. Then left.

For 10 seconds, no one talked.

He was looking at me.

Assessing.

Like I was a business proposal.

"So," I said first.

Because silence was killing me.

"₦50 million.

For 6 months.

As your girlfriend."

"Yes."

"Why me?"

He leaned back.

"3 weeks ago my board told me I need to settle down.

That I’m too cold to be CEO.

That investors don’t trust a single man with a billion-dollar company."

He said it like he was reading a report.

"So I need a girlfriend.

Public.

Presentable.

For 6 months.

Until the merger goes through."

"And you picked me... how?"

"A friend of a friend.

You came up.

Clean record.

No scandals.

Smart.

And you need money."

He didn’t blink.

"I did my research, Ms. Adeyemi."

My stomach dropped.

He knew.

About Maxwell.

About the hotel.

About me being broke.

"How much do you know?" I asked.

"Enough," he said.

"Enough to know you won’t ask me for more than we agreed."

I laughed.

Bitter.

"You think I’m a gold digger?"

"I think you’re desperate," he said. Blunt. "And desperate people keep their word."

Ouch.

But true.

"Terms," he continued.

"You attend events with me.

Photos.

Dinners.

Family functions.

No kissing.

No s*x.

No feelings.

You get your own apartment.

Paid.

₦500 million at the end of 6 months.

NDA attached."

He slid papers across the desk.

50 pages.

I didn’t read them.

Because my mom’s hospital bill was ₦3.2 million.

Because my brother’s school fees were due.

Because I was 24 and tired.

"Can I think about it?"

"You have 24 hours," Mark said.

"After that I will find someone else."

I stood up. "I’ll call you."

At the door I stopped.

"Mr. Daniels—Mark.

Do you love anyone?"

"No," he said.

"That’s why this will work."

---

I didn’t go home.

I went to where it all started.

Yaba.

UNILAG gate.

3 years ago I was here.

21.

Full of dreams.

Accounting major.

First class potential.

And Maxwell.

We met at 200 level.

He was in Business Admin.

Fine boy.

Big smile.

"Marvel, you’re too fine to be reading all the time," he said day 1.

6 months later he said "I can’t pay my rent."

I paid for it.

"My mom is sick."

I sent money.

"My sister’s wedding."

I borrowed from my aunt.

1 year in, I was failing classes.

"Stay with me this weekend, babe.

I need you."

I missed exams.

2 years in, my mom called.

"Baby, we need fees."

I said "Mom, I’ll drop out.

I’ll work.

I’ll support us."

She cried.

I cried.

I dropped out.

Maxwell promised.

"I’ll marry you.

I’ll take care of you."

I believed him.

---

Flashback: 8 months ago.

My sister’s kitchen.

Me cooking for 10 people.

Maxwell’s family.

Crystal was there.

Helping.

Laughing.

"Marvel, you’re such a good girlfriend," she said.

"Maxwell is lucky."

I smiled. "Thanks, babe."

Flashback: 4 months ago.

Hotel booking.

Me, at the bank, withdrawing ₦450,000.

"Birthday surprise for my man," I told the teller.

She smiled. "That’s sweet."

Flashback: 2 weeks ago.

Maxwell: "Babe, can you send ₦50k? My phone got spoiled."

Me: _sends it_

Crystal liked his i********: post 2 hours later. New iPhone.

I was so stupid.

---

My phone rang.

Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Marvel?" Crystal’s voice.

I hung up.

She called again.

I answered. "What?"

"Babe, please.

Can we talk? It wasn’t supposed to happen."

"Don’t call me babe."

"Marvel, I’m sorry.

He said he was going to leave you—"

"He said WHAT?"

"That you two were just staying together because of money.

That you didn’t love him."

The lie was so big I couldn’t breathe.

"I gave you everything," I whispered.

"I know," she said.

"And I’m sorry.

But he’s good in bed, Marvel.

You know that."

Click.

I threw my phone.

It hit the wall and cracked.

3 years.

Gone.

For a man who told his side chick I was with him for money.

I walked back to my sister’s.

Crying in the danfo.

People stared.

I didn’t care.

My sister was waiting.

"Where were you?"

"Nowhere."

"Baby, what’s wrong?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just... I got a job offer."

"Really? Where?"

"Some company."

Lie.

"Pays well."

"That’s good!" she hugged me.

"See? God hasn’t forgotten you."

God.

Right.

That night I opened Mark’s email again.

The contract.

The NDA.

₦50 million.

6 months.

No feelings.

I picked up my pen.

Signed: `Marvel Adeyemi`

Then I texted Mark: `I accept.

When do we start?`

He replied in 2 minutes:

Tomorrow. 8pm.

Gala at Eko Hotel.

Be ready.

Dress will be sent.`

Eko Hotel.

Where Maxwell was with Crystal.

My hands shook.

But I typed back: `I’ll be there.`

---

8am next morning.

A delivery guy came with a box.

Inside: Red dress.

Size 10.

Heels.

Jewelry.

Note: `Wear this. Don’t be late. - M`

I put it on.

Looked at myself in the mirror.

I looked expensive.

I looked like someone worth ₦50 million.

My sister gasped. "Marvel! Who is this for?"

"A new job," I said.

"Interview."

She didn’t believe me.

But she smiled. "You look beautiful."

The car came at 7:30.

Black.

Tinted.

Driver: "Ms. Adeyemi?"

"Yes."

Eko Hotel.

Same hotel. Different reason.

I walked in.

Cameras. People. Music.

And at the center of it all, Mark Daniels.

In black tux.

Looking like sin.

He saw me.

His eyes did something.

Softened.

For one second.

Then he was back to CEO mode.

He walked to me.

Took my hand.

"Good evening, Ms. Adeyemi."

"Good evening, Mr. Daniels."

Cameras flashed.

And then I saw them.

Across the room.

Maxwell.

In a rented suit.

And Crystal.

In a cheap red dress trying to copy mine.

Maxwell’s face when he saw me on Mark’s arm...

Shock.

Anger.

Jealousy.

Crystal saw me too.

And she smiled.

That fake smile.

She walked over.

"Marvel! Hi! Wow, you look... different."

"Thanks," I said.

"You look... familiar."

Maxwell stepped forward.

"Babe, can we talk?"

Mark’s hand tightened on my waist.

"She’s busy," Mark said.

Cold.

"Who are you?"

"Her boyfriend," Maxwell said.

"Ex," I corrected.

Quiet but firm.

The cameras ate it up.

Crystal laughed.

"Oh Marvel.

You move on fast."

"Not as fast as you," I said.

Mark leaned down to me. Whispered: "Play along."

Then louder:

"Marvel is with me now.

If you have a problem, talk to my lawyers."

He pulled me away.

Into the crowd.

We took photos.

All night we smiled.

All night he touched my back.

My hand.

My waist.

Professional.

Until it wasn’t.

Until 11pm, on the balcony, away from cameras.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I lied.

"You don’t look okay."

"I’m fine."

He looked at me.

Really looked.

"For what it’s worth... I’m sorry about what they did to you."

No one had said that to me.

Not in 2 weeks.

"Thank you," I whispered.

We stood there.

Quiet.

Lagos lights below us.

And for a second, I forgot it was fake.

I forgot the contract.

I forgot the ₦50 million.

I just felt... safe.

Then my phone buzzed.

Maxwell: You’re mine. You can’t do this to me.

Crystal:Thanks for sponsoring us, babe.

The hotel was nice.`

I showed Mark.

He read them.

His jaw tightened.

"Delete them," he said.

"And block them."

"I will."

"Marvel."

"Yeah?"

"Welcome to the job."

He offered his arm.

We walked back inside.

To the cameras.

To the lie.

CLIFFHANGER:But as the flashes went off, I realized the hardest part wasn’t pretending to love Mark. It was pretending I didn’t want to.