The rain hammered Lagos traffic like it had a personal grudge against umbrellas. I sat in the back of the danfo, phone clutched like a lifeline, staring at the notification that had just ruined my morning.
Loan Repayment Due: ₦18,500,000. Final Notice. 72 hours before asset seizure.
My thumb hovered over the delete button, as if ignoring it would make the debt vanish. It wouldn't. Nothing vanished in this city—not heartbreak, not bills, not the memory of the man who'd promised forever and then ghosted me five years ago.
I shoved the phone into my bag and stepped out into the downpour when the bus jerked to a stop at Victoria Island. My cheap heels splashed through puddles as I hurried toward the glass tower that looked like it belonged in Dubai, not here. Adeleke & Co. Corporate Law. The place where dreams went to get restructured.
The receptionist gave me the once-over—wet hair, wrinkled blouse, desperate eyes—and waved me through without a word. Up on the 22nd floor, the conference room smelled of fresh coffee and old money.
Mr. Adeleke himself waited at the head of the long table. Sixty-something, sharp suit, sharper eyes. Next to him sat the last person I expected to see in this lifetime.
Kian Adeleke.
My ex. The one who'd left me standing at a makeshift altar in a backyard in Ikeja while his family jet waited at the airport. Now he looked even more untouchable—tailored black suit, jaw like it was carved from obsidian, eyes cold enough to freeze the rain outside.
He didn't stand when I entered. Just watched me like I was a file he needed to sign off on.
"Sit, Miss Okoye," Mr. Adeleke said, voice calm as still water.
I sat. Legs shaking under the table.
"Your father's medical bills are... substantial," the older man continued. "The clinic has been generous, but generosity has limits. We have a proposal."
Kian finally spoke. Voice low, clipped, like every word cost him money. "Marry me. For one year. On paper only."
I laughed. It came out sharp, bitter. "You must be joking."
"No joke." He slid a folder across the table. Thick. Official-looking. "Sign this. You get the debt cleared. Your father's treatment continues indefinitely. Your younger sister gets her university fees paid in full. In return, you play the perfect wife in public. No questions. No feelings. After twelve months, we divorce quietly. You walk away with enough to start over anywhere."
I stared at the papers. Then at him. The boy I'd loved at twenty-one was gone. This man was all sharp edges and zero remorse.
"Why me?" My voice cracked despite myself. "You could buy any woman in this city."
His gaze flicked over me—quick, dismissive. "Because you're the only one who hates me enough to make it believable. And the only one who won't try to keep me."
The room felt smaller. The rain louder.
I thought of Dad in that hospital bed, machines beeping like countdowns. Of my sister texting me last night: Sis, they said no more extensions. What do we do?
My hand trembled as I reached for the pen.
Kian leaned forward slightly. For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—something almost like regret. Or maybe I imagined it.
"Last chance to walk away, Ada," he said quietly. "Once you sign, there's no going back."
I met his stare. Let him see every ounce of the anger I'd carried for five years.
Then I signed.
The pen scratched like a promise breaking.
Mr. Adeleke nodded once. "Congratulations. You're now Mrs. Kian Adeleke. Temporarily."
Kian stood, buttoning his jacket. "Car will pick you up at seven. Wear something appropriate. We have an engagement dinner tonight."
He walked out without another word.
I stayed seated, staring at my signature next to his.
What had I just done?
The rain kept falling.
And somewhere deep inside, a tiny, stupid part of me wondered if hate could ever burn hot enough to feel like love again.
End of Chapter 1