After surveying the room's features, the ensuite bathroom, the walk in closet, Chibuzor excused himself. "I need to catch up on sleep," he murmured before slipping out.
"Bye." Olaedo whispered seeing she was now the only person in the room.
Separate rooms, just like he promised. Good she nodded.
Normally it would be very suspicious, but according to Chibuzor, only family, close relatives, and the housekeeper were allowed on the second floor. The first floor was reserved for guests, while the ground floor housed the living room, dining area, kitchen, and shared spaces accessible to household staff.
Feeling more alert, she began unpacking her suitcase. Clothes were quickly hung in the walk in closet, and cosmetics hastily arranged on the dressing table.
Her eyes wandered deeper into the closet once she was done. What the??
Did he buy the whole mall?
Rows of clothes, casual dresses, elegant evening gowns, and stylish pieces she hadn't seen before, were thoughtfully prepared to help her blend seamlessly into her new role.
"This hubby of mine really is organized," she muttered, barely able to hide her shock.
After finishing her unpacking, she said goodnight to Chibuzor, following her usual habit whenever staying with someone. Then she moved to the study in her room to tackle pending work.
---
Three months later
The first rays of sunlight seeped through the curtains. Stretching, she decided it was finally time for a bath. Afterward, she dressed in one of her own outfits, still not quite used to the clothes Chibuzor had thoughtfully stocked in the closet.
Heading downstairs in search of breakfast, she reflected on the past few months. She had slowly started adjusting to living with Chibuzor, but it still didn't feel like home.
Every day, they pretended to be deeply in love during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, then went their separate ways to work. Their public smiles were rehearsed, calculated to the tiniest detail.
They even went on dates, though their relationship remained private. Those outings weren't for enjoyment, they were to convince Chibuzor's grandparents, who had quietly inserted "spies" to monitor their movements.
On weekends, they practiced poses and reviewed their "marital performance." This weekend was no exception.
It was Sunday morning. They had stayed up almost all night practicing couple poses and perfecting their "meet cute" story, knowing the family ball was coming up that Saturday.
The house buzzed with life. Servants moved with purpose, each absorbed in their tasks. As she passed, they greeted her respectfully, and she returned their greetings with a warm, effortless smile.
It reminded her of her company, where navigating conversations with employees came naturally. She paused occasionally, engaging a few workers in light hearted discussions, asking thoughtful questions that brought genuine warmth to their faces.
Curious about the kitchen, she stepped closer to see what was being prepared.
"Wait!" a young woman suddenly blocked her path. Her posture was rigid, her expression sharp.
"Young Madam, you can't be here," she said, her tone clipped. Then, as if tasting her own malice, she added mockingly, "It's beneath your status. Go wait at the dining table. Us maids will serve you soon, as usual." She waved dismissively, like shooing away a stray animal.
Olaedo's brow arched at the blatant disrespect. A flare of irritation rose, but she pushed it down. She had only been here three months, and starting a scene now would serve no purpose.
Without a word, she stepped around the woman and entered the kitchen. The other staff pretended not to notice the exchange, keeping their eyes fixed on their tasks.
Undeterred, she greeted the older staff warmly, exchanged pleasantries with the younger ones, then asked with a smile, "So… what's for breakfast?"
One of the chefs, Mrs. Ezinne, responded with a warm smile, gesturing toward the grand table. "Something light," she began. "For you, we've prepared sandwiches and tea. For the Young Master, as per his request, we've crafted a mix of Western and West African dishes. On the Western side: fluffy pancakes with maple syrup, crispy bacon, and a gourmet omelet station with customizable fillings. On the West African side: golden akara, steaming moi moi, and fried plantains paired with a rich, spicy egg stew."
She then gestured toward another table, laden with drinks. "For lighter fare, there's a fresh fruit platter, mango, pineapple, and watermelon, alongside parfaits layered with yogurt and granola. To accompany, we have freshly brewed coffee, a selection of teas, and refreshing orange juice."
Olaedo nodded, impressed by the spread.
Why didn't anyone ask me what I actually wanted? she wondered.
She would have preferred toasted bread with avocado this morning. Sandwiches and tea had been her staple for the past three months, but a sandwich was close enough to what she normally ate, so she didn't raise any objections.
The simplicity suited her lifestyle, she had never demanded an overabundance of food just to pick at a few dishes while the rest went to waste.
But Chibuzor's menu… she thought, raising an eyebrow. A mix of Western and West African cuisines for breakfast? Really? There was no way he could finish all that.
It was excessive. Wasteful, even. Yet, she decided to keep her thoughts to herself. This wasn't her house.
Instead, she smiled brightly and encouraged the staff. "Can't wait to taste your cooking again, Mommy Ezinne! I'll head to the dining room. Thank you, everyone."
As she left the kitchen, Olaedo deliberately strode past the young woman who had tried to challenge her earlier. Her silence spoke louder than words. She had no need to say more.
Stepping into the dining room, her eyes fell on her husband, already seated. She adjusted her voice and called out cheerfully, "Good morning, sweethea—ah!"
Her words faltered mid-sentence. Her gaze froze on his face.