The 10 Million Naira Wife

Chapter 9: New Terms

I woke up alone in Khalil's bed.

Black silk sheets. His scent on the pillow. No Khalil.

For one stupid second, I thought last night was a nightmare. That the "I'll pay it" was a dream.

Then I smelled coffee. And bacon.

I found him in the kitchen. Shirtless. Sweatpants. Cooking.

Khalil Adeyemi, The Shark of Lagos, was flipping eggs.

"Morning," he said without turning around. "Sit. Eat."

It wasn't a request.

I sat. Wary. The counter between us felt like a negotiating table.

He slid a plate in front of me. Perfect eggs. Bacon. Toast cut diagonal. Like I was someone he cared about.

"Your mother," he said, plating his own food. "Dr. Ayo at LUTH. I've already spoken to him. Surgery is scheduled for next week. Full experimental treatment after. My doctors are flying in from Dubai."

I froze. "You... already?"

"I don't make promises I don't keep, Zara." He sat across from me. Met my eyes. "Her bills are covered. ₦73 million. Paid in full this morning."

Seventy-three million. Gone. Just like that.

"So," he said, cutting into his eggs. "New terms."

Here it was.

"One year still stands. You get your inheritance, I get my name clear. But..." He set his fork down. "You don't touch NairaFlow. I don't acquire it. I don't announce you're Anon. That was the old deal."

"And the new deal?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"I want equity."

My blood ran cold. "No."

"Ten percent," he said. "Silent partner. I don't interfere. I don't attend board meetings. But when someone asks who owns Anon, the answer is 'we'."

He wanted a piece of me. The real me.

"Why?" I asked. "You don't need money."

"I don't want money," he said. His eyes were dark. "I want you. All of you. And Anon is you. So yes, I want 10% of the most brilliant tech mind in Nigeria." He leaned forward. "And I want you to want me to have it."

The audacity.

"You blackmailed me into your bed last night," I said. "Now you want me to gift you my company?"

"I saved your mother's life last night," he corrected. "And I'm asking you to trust me with your company. There's a difference."

Was there?

My phone buzzed. Kemi: `Minister loved the clause. Contract is ours. You saved us, Anon.`

Anon. The woman he wanted 10% of.

"And if I say no?" I asked.

"Then you walk out that door," he said, gesturing with his fork. "With your ten million at the end of the year. Your mother lives. NairaFlow is yours. We divorce. Clean."

I could walk. Right now.

"But," he continued, "you'll spend the rest of your life wondering what would've happened if you'd said yes. To the Shark who could've taken you global. To the man who paid ₦73 million before breakfast because your mama coughed."

He stood. Walked around the counter. Caged me in again, but this time... gently.

"I'm not asking for Anon, Zara," he murmured. "I'm asking for you. All of you. The orphan. The CEO. The wife. The woman who kissed me back in a closet because for once, someone was stronger than her."

His hand came up. Waited. Asking permission.

I didn't move.

He cupped my face. Thumb brushing my cheekbone.

"So what's it gonna be, Mrs. Adeyemi? 10% and me?" His voice dropped. "Or 0% and alone?"

The gala. Dami. The board. Mama. ₦73 million.

And the man who cooked me breakfast after ruining me.

I closed my eyes.

And I chose.