Chapter 2: Enemies to Lovers
578 Words
Chapter 2: Enemies to Lovers
The next morning, Ola’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.
*Payment confirmed: ₦150,000*
*From: Okon Foundation*
She stared at the screen in her tiny Yaba apartment, paint peeling off the walls, her brother snoring in the next room. She hadn’t expected payment for a gala she’d almost ruined. She definitely hadn’t expected it to hit before 9 AM.
Attached was a note: _For your discretion and professionalism last night. - C.O._
Chinedu Okon.
Ola deleted the message. She didn’t want his money. She didn’t want anything from him.
Then her door knocked.
---
“Your sister said you’d be here.”
Ola opened the door to find a woman in her late 20s holding two takeaway cups of zobo and wearing a press pass around her neck. Confidence rolled off her like perfume.
“I’m Nneka,” the woman said, pushing past Ola into the apartment. “Journalist. Lifestyle and Culture desk at _Lagos Pulse_. And your new best friend, if you’ll let me.”
Ola closed the door slowly. “I don’t have best friends. And I definitely don’t talk to journalists.”
“Good, because I’m not here to interview you.” Nneka handed her a cup. “I’m here because I saw you at the Okon Gala last night. You were the only person not drooling over Chinedu.”
Ola nearly choked on her zobo. “You were there?”
“Covering the event. Also covering Chinedu Okon’s PR team, who’ve been working overtime to make him look human.” Nneka grinned. “You should see the brief they sent me. ‘Chinedu Okon: He Volunteers!’”
Ola didn’t laugh. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you looked like you had a story in your eyes.” Nneka’s voice dropped. “And because Chinedu just asked me to set up an interview with you.”
Ola froze. “What?”
“He wants to hire you,” Nneka said. “Officially. Okon Foundation needs a photographer for their ‘Youth Empowerment’ campaign. He said you’re the only one who caught what actually happened last night.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then you keep shooting weddings for ₦20k and pretending you don’t hate his family.” Nneka shrugged. “But if you say yes, you get access. To him. To the foundation. To the truth about what happened with your brother.”
Ola’s stomach dropped. Nneka knew.
“You’re not subtle,” Ola said.
“I’m a journalist,” Nneka replied. “Subtlety doesn’t pay rent in Lagos.”
---
Across town, Chinedu sat in his father’s office on the 40th floor of Okon Towers, watching Lagos stretch out below him.
“You invited her here,” Mr. Okon said without looking up from his papers. “Why?”
“She’s good,” Chinedu said simply. “And she’s angry at us. I’d rather know why.”
Mr. Okon finally glanced up, sharp eyes assessing. “Careful, Chinedu. You can’t fix every problem with money and proximity.”
“I’m not trying to fix it,” Chinedu said. “I’m trying to understand it.”
His father was quiet for a long moment. Then: “Bring her to the foundation launch next week. Let’s see what she does when she’s inside.”
Chinedu nodded.
He had a feeling Ola wouldn’t make it easy.
That was exactly why he wanted her there.
---
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- Writer
