THE MAFIA HEIR'S OBSESSION

The city looked soo much better in pictures. That was the first thing Amara Bello learned after moving abroad. On i********:, everything sparkled tall glass buildings, glowing streets, beautiful people walking around like life was one endless fashion show. Reality was super different, cold wind slapped her face as she hurried down the sidewalk, her heels tapping unevenly on the pavement. Her coat wasn’t thick enough for this weather, but it was the only one she owned that still looked “model-worthy.” Because apparently even struggling models had to look like they weren’t struggling at all. Amara shoved her hands into her pockets and sighed. “Maybe I should have stayed back in Nigeria,” she muttered to herself. The words slipped out before she could stop them. Three months ago, leaving Nigeria had felt like the beginning of everything. Her friends hugged her like she was already famous. Her aunt told everyone in the neighborhood that her niece was going overseas to become a model. It sounded soo impressive and nice, It felt impressive, Until reality arrived Reality looked like tiny shared apartments, unpaid photoshoots deals, and casting agents who barely glanced at her before saying, “Thank you, next.” Her stomach growled loudly. She checked her phone again even though she already knew what it would say. Her balance stared back at her. $7.18, Amara stared at the screen. “Seven dollars,” she whispered. She stared at the phone like it might suddenly apologize and add more money, It didn’t at all. She sighed and shoved the phone into her bag. “Okay,” she murmured, thinking out loud like she always did when stressed. “Technically technically seven dollars is not zero kobo.” A passing pedestrian gave her a strange look. Amara stand upright immediately and pretended she had been talking on the phone. “Yeah, yes,” she said loudly to nobody. “Seven dollars is just perfect.” The stranger walked away quickly. Amara dropped the act and sighed again. “Nice. Now I’m the weird girl talking to herself.” The street was quiet at this hour. Most people had already disappeared into warm apartments or late night restaurants she definitely couldn’t afford. Her casting had ended late again. Another “we’ll let you know.” Which in modeling language means: we will absolutely not let you know at all. Amara adjusted the strap of her bag and continued walking. Her legs ached from standing in heels for hours. But she refused to give up. She didn’t leave Nigeria, leave her family, and spend almost all her savings just to run back home defeated. No not all.She would make this work. Somehow anyhow, but most definitely not illegal way. The wind picked up, pushing strands of hair across her face. She stepped closer to the side of the street, trying to shield herself from it. That was when she heard the sound of a car. It rolled slowly into the street behind her. Not loud,Not rushed. Just smooth and expensive. Amara glanced back casually.Then blinked several times. Even someone who knew nothing about cars could tell this one cost more than her entire life. Long Black and Shiny. The kind of car billionaires stepped out of in movies. Amara stared for two seconds too long. “Mind your business,” she muttered quickly in her mind, turning forward again. Rich people were none of her concern. She had bigger problems. Like surviving on just seven dollars. The car stopped. Right in the middle of the street.Amara frowned slightly but kept walking. Then the doors opened. Four men stepped out. Something about them immediately felt… wrong. They moved quickly, like they were used to doing things without hesitation. One of them opened the back door and dragged someone out. The man struggled violently. “Please please!” the stranger begged. Amara stopped walking almost immediately. Her brain processed the situation slowly because the scene resemble one of those scenes she sees on Netflix. Very slowly, Too slowly. “Oh,” she whispered. Oh,This was bad,Very bad. She should leave. Right now Her feet didn’t move. The men pushed the struggling man to his knees on the wet pavement. The streetlight above them flickered, casting uneven shadows across their faces. Then another man stepped out of the car.And suddenly the others seemed smaller. Amara noticed that immediately. He didn’t shout. He didn’t rush. But the moment he stepped forward, the air changed. Tall, Broad shoulders.Dark suit that probably cost more than her plane ticket. He walked toward the man kneeling on the ground like he had done this before. Many times. Amara’s brain finally caught up with reality. You are witnessing something illegal and slightly familiar. “Okay,” she whispered nervously. “Now we go.” She turned around quicklyThen the gunshot exploded behind her. Amara froze as if a spell was casted upon her. Her entire body locked in place. Her heart slammed violently against her ribs. Slowly, against her better judgment, she turned her head. The man on the pavement wasn’t moving anymore. Rain began to fall harder, washing across the street.Amara stared. Her brain struggled to process what she just saw. Then one of the men looked up. Straight at her. Their eyes met. Amara’s heart dropped to her stomach. “Oh no.” Another man followed his gaze. Then another, And finally The tall one looked up too. His eyes locked onto hers from across the street. Dark.Sharp.Terrifyingly calm. Amara’s survival instincts finally woke up. She ran desperately. Her heels slapped against the pavement as she sprinted down the street, nearly slipping on the wet ground. “Stop her!” someone shouted behind her. “Why did I look!!!, I've learnt nothing from watching all those films in Nigeria” Amara cried breathlessly as she ran. She turned sharply into the nearest alley. Her mind raced faster than her legs. Maybe if she hid.Maybe if sh She turned the corner And slammed straight into someone. Strong hands caught her shoulders before she could fall. Amara looked up. And immediately regretted every life decision she had ever made. It was him. The tall man. Up close, he was even more intimidating. Dark hair slicked back perfectly. Sharp cheekbones. Eyes that looked like they had never once known mercy. Rain slid down the shoulders of his expensive coat. Amara blinked at him. Her brain, unfortunately, chose the worst possible moment to stop working. “Oh,” she said. Brilliant. Very intelligent response. “Oh.” His men appeared seconds later, blocking the alley behind her. Great.Perfect.Fantastic.Nice, Amazing. Amara swallowed nervously. “I can explain,” she said quickly. The man said nothing. He simply looked at her. Slowly.Carefully. Like he was trying to figure out what to do with her. Her brain scrambled desperately. “I didn’t see anything at all,” she blurted out. Silence. Then his gaze dropped briefly to her shoes. Her coat. Her bag. When his eyes returned to her face, something unreadable flickered there. “You ran,” he said calmly. His voice was low. Controlled.Dangerous. Amara nodded quickly. “Yes. Running is my main hobby actually. And it is very good for the body” The words slipped out before she could stop them. She froze.Why did she say that? Why? Amara said in her mind almost crying while asking herself the question. The man stared at her for a moment longer. Then he spoke again. “You’re not from here.” It wasn’t a question. Amara blinked. “How did you” All the alarm in her head went off immediately. “Your accent.” Of course.Great. Now her accent might get her killed. She forced a small smile. “I’m just a model,” she said nervously. “Very unimportant. Extremely forgettable. Yes” Another long silence passed. Rain dripped from the edge of the building. Then the man stepped slightly closer. Not aggressively. But close enough that Amara could see how dark his eyes really were. “You witnessed something tonight,” he said quietly. Amara nodded quickly. “But I also have a very terrible memory,” she added hopefully. His expression didn’t change. Not even a little. Then he said something that made her stomach drop. “You shouldn’t be alive right now.” Amara’s weak smile disappeared. And suddenly, the cold night felt much colder.