CHAPTER 1
The rain in Accra didn’t fall. It attacks.
By the time Zara Alim reached the top of Wolfe Ridge Lane, she was drenched. Her blazer clung to her skin, her resume had turned into damp pulp inside her folder, and her carefully styled bun collapsed into a dripping mess. After forty-three job rejections, she knew she should have turned back long ago.
But her student debt wouldn’t let her.
She checked the newspaper clipping again, the ink smudging under her thumb.
Junior Legal Counsel – Discretion Required, $120,000 per annum. Report to 1400 Wolfe Ridge Lane. Ask for Mr Wolfe.
This had to be it, she guessed. After walking for about 30 minutes, she finally arrived at her destination, which was the street indicated in the newspaper.
The gate in front of her was tall, black, and silent. No number. No name. Just a camera that slowly turned toward her, as if judging her for being there. The houses on this street didn’t seem to need numbers. They looked like they had introduced themselves.
She pressed the intercom, but no response came.
Zara let out a tired breath. “Of course,” she muttered. “Because why would getting a job be easy?”
Her phone was at 2%. The GPS had failed her halfway through the journey, leaving her to guess her way up the hill in the rain. She was fairly certain she had passed 1400 already.
Or maybe this was 1400.
At this point, she wasn’t sure of anything.
Headlights suddenly flared behind her. A car approached, slow and smooth. Zara stiffened. Security, maybe. Perfect. Getting arrested for trespassing would be a great addition to her already struggling career.
But the car didn’t stop.
The gate opened without a sound, and the car drove through.
Zara stared after it.
Then she looked back at the number on her clipping. The ink had blurred, the zero smearing into something uncertain, making the numbers appear a bit invisible.
Maybe.
It was either that or admit she had walked all this way for nothing.
So she followed.
The house at the top of the drive wasn’t really a house. It was something else entirely. Sharp lines, glass walls, and a view that stretched across Accra like a blanket of lights. It stood on the ridge like it owned everything below it.
Zara hesitated at the door. It looked expensive enough to reject her on sight.
Before she could lose her nerve, she knocked.
The door opened almost instantly.
Adrian Wolfe stood there.
He didn’t look like the billionaire from magazine photos. Those versions of him were polished and distant. This version was… different. He looked irritated, slightly dishevelled, and dangerously intense. His dark t-shirt clung to damp skin, and he held a glass of amber liquid in one hand.
His eyes locked onto hers, then dropped briefly to the ruined resume she was clutching before returning to her face.
“You’re late,” he said.
Zara blinked, “I’m sorry” she admitted. The gate”
“Was open” he cut in. “I fired the security team this morning.”
He stepped aside slightly. “Well? Are you coming in, or are you planning to flood my doorstep?”He blurted.
This wasn’t how interviews were supposed to go. There should have been a receptionist. A waiting room. Something normal.
Not this. Suspicion began to creep into her thoughts.
Still, Zara straightened her back and stepped inside.
“My name is Zara Alim,” she began, trying to sound composed despite the water dripping down her neck. “I’m here for the Legal Counsel position”
“Did you bring it?” he interrupted.
She frowned. “My resume is right here”
“The contract,” he said impatiently. “The NDA. And a pen.”
Zara stared at him. “No I didn’t bring those.”
He made a quiet, annoyed sound and turned away, walking deeper into the house without waiting for her.
The message was clear.
Follow or leave.
Zara hesitated only for a second before going after him.
Inside, the house was just as intimidating as the outside. Everything was sleek and precise, like it had been designed to impress but not comfort. One entire wall was glass, showing the city below glowing through the rain.
Adrian moved to a bar and poured himself another drink. He didn’t offer her one.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing toward a spotless white couch.
Zara stayed where she was. She was fairly certain that sitting down would leave a permanent water stain.
“Mr. Wolfe, I think there’s been a misunderstanding ” she started.
“Article 4, subsection 2 of the Wolfe Industries Code of Conduct,” he said suddenly.
She froze. “What?”
“Recite it.”
Zara stared at him, unsure if she had heard correctly.
“You want to work as my lawyer,” he continued. “The Code is public. You should know it. So recite it.”
This had to be a test.
A ridiculous, unexpected test.
Zara closed her eyes briefly, searching her memory. She had read it the night before. She had prepared.
Just not like this.
When she spoke again, her voice was steady.
“No employee of Wolfe Industries may communicate externally about ongoing legal matters without written permission from the CEO. Breaking this rule results in immediate termination and possible legal action.”
Silence filled the room.
When she opened her eyes, Adrian was watching her closely.
“Huh,” he said quietly.
Then he set his glass aside, walked to a desk, and pulled out a single sheet of paper along with a pen.
“The job isn’t at the office,” he said. “It’s here. You’ll live in. You start tonight.”
Zara’s heart skipped.
“The salary is $150,000,” he added. “Sign the NDA now or leave.”
She stepped closer and looked down at the paper. It was dense, filled with legal terms. But one line stood out immediately.
Any romantic relationship with the employer is strictly prohibited. Violation will result in termination and a $500,000 penalty.
Zara swallowed. “That’s not standard.”
“No,” Adrian said calmly. “It isn’t.”
For the first time, he smiled, but there was nothing warm about it.
“Nothing about this situation is standard, Ms. Alim,” he added. “Including the fact that you showed up at my house instead of my office.”
Her stomach dropped.
Slowly, she looked back at the clipping in her hand.
Not 1404.
She had come to the wrong place.
Zara looked up at him again, her mind racing.
This wasn’t the job she had applied for.
This wasn’t even the right address.
And yet.
Here she was.
Standing in front of a man who was offering her more money than she had ever imagined, with conditions she didn’t fully understand and rules she wasn’t sure she could follow.
Outside, the rain slammed against the glass walls like applause.
And for the first time that night, Zara realized something important.
She had made a mistake.
But it might be the kind of mistake that changed everything.
