"Chapter 1 - The Devil's Offer"
1024 Words
Adaeze Obi had learned three things about life by age twenty-six.
One nothing good came free in Lagos.
Two men in expensive suits were always the most dangerous kind.
Three when your back was against the wall, pride was a luxury you could no longer afford.
She was learning all three lessons at once tonight.
The envelope had arrived that morning.
Plain white. No sender's address. Just her name written in cold, precise ink Miss Adaeze Obi like whoever sent it already owned her.
Inside was a single printed page.
DEBT ACQUISITION NOTICE
This is to inform you that the outstanding debt of ₦47,500,000 owed by the late Mr. Chukwuemeka Obi has been purchased in full by Okafor Holdings Limited. Full repayment is now due within 30 days. Failure to comply will result in legal seizure of all listed assets including the residential property at 14 Obiora Street, Enugu.
Adaeze had read it four times.
Then she'd sat down on the kitchen floor because her legs simply stopped working.
Forty-seven million naira.
Her father had been dead eight months and he was still finding ways to destroy them from the grave.
"Ada, who sent that letter?"
Her mother's voice drifted from the bedroom thin, tired, carrying that new fragility that had settled into her bones since Papa died.
"Nobody, Mama. Junk mail."
The lie came easily. It had to.
Her mother didn't know the full extent of the debt. Adaeze had made sure of that. Nkechi Obi was fifty-four years old with a heart condition and a grief that hadn't finished eating her alive. The truth would finish the job.
"Come and eat, Ada. You didn't eat this morning."
"In a minute."
She folded the letter. Tucked it into her bag. Walked to the window and stared out at their street the small compound her parents had sacrificed everything to own. The pawpaw tree her father planted the year she was born. The faded green gate that squeaked every time it opened.
Okafor Holdings Limited.
She knew that name.
Everyone in Nigeria knew that name.
The meeting had been arranged for her.
She hadn't asked for it. Hadn't agreed to it. A sleek black car had simply appeared outside her office at 5pm with a driver holding a card that read:
Mr. E. Okafor requests your presence. Tonight. 7pm. Eko Hotel, Victoria Island.
It is not optional.
The audacity alone should have made her refuse.
Instead she'd gone home, changed into the best dress she owned a simple black wrap that her friend Chioma called her "serious woman dress" and told herself she was going to look this man in the eye and tell him exactly where he could put his debt notice.
That was the plan.
The plan lasted until she walked into the penthouse suite and saw him.
Emeka Okafor was not what she expected.
She had expected old. Fat. The kind of man who bought other people's suffering because he'd never experienced any of his own.
He was none of those things.
He stood with his back to her, looking out at Lagos glittering forty floors below, a glass of whiskey held loosely in one hand. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a dark fitted shirt like a man who had nothing to prove to anyone.
When he turned, the first thing she noticed were his eyes.
Dark. Still. Completely unreadable.
The eyes of a man who had long ago decided that other people's emotions were not his problem.
"Miss Obi." His voice was low, unhurried. "You're late."
"You're holding my family's home hostage," she said. "I didn't think punctuality was the issue here."
Something shifted in his expression. Not quite a smile. More like the flicker of someone encountering mild surprise.
"Sit down."
"I'd rather stand."
He studied her for a long moment. Then he set his glass down, moved to the chair across from the sofa, and sat himself unhurried, unbothered as if her defiance was simply a variable he had already calculated for.
"Suit yourself."
She crossed her arms. Kept her face steady. Prayed he couldn't hear her heartbeat from across the room.
"I didn't buy your father's debt to destroy your family," he said.
"Then why?"
"Because I need something." His eyes held hers without apology. "And I believe you are in a position to provide it."
The room felt smaller suddenly.
"I'm listening," she said carefully.
Emeka Okafor leaned forward. Rested his forearms on his knees. And for the first time, something that wasn't quite coldness crossed his face something almost human.
"I need a wife," he said. "For twelve months. In name only."
The silence that followed was absolute.
"My grandfather's will," he continued, "requires that I be married before my thirty-fifth birthday to inherit controlling shares of Okafor Holdings. That birthday is in thirteen months."
"And you're telling me this because"
"Because if you agree, the debt disappears the day we sign the marriage certificate." He paused. "And I will add fifty million naira on top."
Adaeze stared at him.
Fifty million.
Enough to pay for her mother's treatment. Enough to clear every obligation her father had left behind. Enough to breathe.
"You're serious," she said.
"I don't make jokes, Miss Obi."
She laugh a short, disbelieving sound. "You don't even know me."
"I know everything I need to."
Something about the way he said it made her skin prickle.
"And if I say no?"
His expression didn't change."Then my lawyers begin seizure proceedings on Monday morning."
There it was.
The iron fist inside the expensive shirt.
Adaeze uncrossed her arms. Walked slowly to the sofa and sat down not because he'd told her to, but because her legs had made the decision without consulting her brain.
She looked at this man. This cold, calculated, devastatingly composed man who had walked into her life forty-eight hours ago and rearranged everything in it.
"Twelve months," she said quietly.
"Twelve months," he confirmed.
"No feelings. No complications."
"None."
She looked down at her hands. Thought of her mother's cough. The letter. The pawpaw tree.
When she looked back up, her chin was steady.
"Tell me the terms!
- Writer
