That night, the city glowed differently, as though Lagos itself had decided to dress up for the drama about to unfold. Streetlights shimmered against polished car hoods, and the steady hum of nightlife floated through the air like an unspoken promise.
Osita’s car rolled to a smooth stop in front of J.Bliss Steakhouse, its glass doors reflecting luxury, money, and quiet power.
Osita stepped out first.
He was dressed in a tailored black suit, the coat structured and heavy enough to shield him from the cold night breeze. The fabric hugged his broad shoulders, giving him a commanding presence that made passersby steal glances without even realizing why. His shoes clicked softly against the pavement as he turned and offered his hand.
Thea took it.
She stepped out slowly, her sky-blue shor
