BOUGHT BY THE BILLIONAIRE

THE PSYCH EVAL

*Chapter 7: THE PSYCH EVAL*

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9:00am. Psych ward, St. Nicholas Hospital.

Daniel wasn’t allowed past the door.

“Hospital policy,” Dr. Ireti said. Female. Sharp eyes. Clipboard in hand. “Donor psych eval must be private. No family. No money. No pressure.”

Daniel stopped. Fists clenched. For the first time since Chioma met him, the billionaire looked powerless.

“5 minutes,” he told Chioma. Voice rough. “Then I’m coming in.”

Chioma nodded. Walked into the small room alone. White walls. One chair. One table. One doctor who decided if she was “sane enough” to give up a kidney.

“Sit, Mrs. Okoye,” Dr. Ireti said. Not unkind. Just clinical. “This isn’t a test you can pass with the right answers. It’s a test to see if you’re lying to yourself.”

Chioma sat. Back straight. Nurse mode on.

“I’m not lying,” she said.

Dr. Ireti clicked her pen. “Good. Let’s start. Why are you donating a kidney to Amara Okoye Jr?”

Chioma opened her mouth. Closed it. The easy answer: _₦50 million._ The contract answer: _Clause 4._ The truth answer... hurt.

“Because she’s 11,” Chioma said finally. “Because I’m a nurse and I’ve watched people die waiting. Because my mother died waiting for a donor that never came.”

Dr. Ireti wrote something down. “Money is involved, correct? ₦50 million for marriage + additional ₦100 million for donation?”

Chioma’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

“Would you still donate if the money was zero? If Mr. Okoye was broke? If Amara Jr was a stranger’s child in a public hospital?”

The room went silent. Daniel’s shadow moved past the glass door. Waiting. Praying.

Chioma thought of Ada’s hospital bill. Of her empty account. Of Victoria’s words: _She’ll resent Amara Jr forever._

Then she thought of Amara Jr’s sketch. 3 stick figures. “Team Fight.” Of the girl’s cold hand in hers. Of “Auntie Chioma is staying.”

“No,” Chioma said honestly. “I wouldn’t have met her if there was no money. The money brought me here. But the money isn’t why I’m staying.”

Dr. Ireti looked up. Really looked at her. “That’s the first honest answer I’ve heard this month.” She set the pen down. “Mrs. Okoye, kidney donation has risk. 1 in 3000 chance of death. 6 weeks recovery. Possible complications for life. Mr. Okoye can’t force you. Money can’t force you. Only you can.”

“I know,” Chioma whispered.

“Last question,” Dr. Ireti said. “If you say yes today, and tomorrow you change your mind, will you tell us? Or will you go through with it because you’re afraid of looking like a villain to an 11-year-old girl?”

Chioma stared at the door. At Daniel’s shadow. At the contract that started all this.

“I’ll tell you,” she said. “I’ve been the girl with no choice before. I won’t be the woman who takes choices from others.”

Dr. Ireti nodded. Stood. Opened the door.

“She passes,” she told Daniel. “Medically and mentally fit to donate. But Mr. Okoye...” She turned to him. “One more thing. If she says no tomorrow, you let her walk. No guilt. No money tricks. Or I’ll report this hospital to the ethics board myself.”

Daniel looked at Chioma. Really looked. Not at Mrs. Okoye. Not at the donor match. At Chioma.

“I know,” he said quietly.

They walked out together. Silent. But different. The evaluation was over. The real choice was next.

In Room 12, Amara Jr was asleep. Sketchpad on her chest. The 3 stick figures now had smiley faces.

Chioma pulled up a chair. Took the girl’s hand.

Daniel stood behind them both. No longer the billionaire who bought. Just a man waiting to see what Chioma would choose.

And Chioma whispered to the sleeping girl: “I choose you, Amara. Not the money. You.”

*End of Chapter 7*

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