The hall was too bright, too polished, too perfect, the kind of perfection that didn’t welcome you so much as dare you to stain it.
Soft jazz floated from hidden speakers like it had been trained to behave. Crystal glasses chimed gently. Perfume drifted in expensive clouds that tried to cover the smell of grilled meat and red wine and something older: power. Every table looked like money sat there first, adjusting the napkins before people arrived.
And yet the real reason everyone came wasn’t the food.
It was Lawrence Admy.
He entered without rushing, without smiling, without trying to impress anybody, because he never had to. Twenty-seven. Tall, disciplined, built like someone who didn’t waste time on excuses. His face was handsome in a calm, dangerous way, not the kind you wanted to touch immediately, but the kind you couldn’t stop watching. No loud charm. No playful warmth. Just quiet control.
The room rose almost immediately.
Not because someone told them to.
Because that was what you did when Lawrence walked in, like gravity had changed and everyone needed to adjust their balance.
“Two years away,” someone murmured.
“Two years out of sight.”
“Two years of rumors with no proof.”
Now he was back, and the hall wanted to be the first to remind him it still remembered his name.
A friend with a laugh too loud lifted his glass. “Everybody!” he boomed. “Let’s welcome our own Lawrence Admy! He came back today. Let’s toast!”
Chairs scraped. Glasses lifted.
“To Lawrence.”
“To the man who disappears and returns like he never left.”
Lawrence gave a small nod. Nothing more.
His eyes moved over faces the way a blade moves over fabric. Clean. Quick. Cutting through the surface to the truth underneath. Another man leaned closer, grinning like they were still boys who stole cars and bragged about it after.
“How have you been these two years?” he asked loudly, hoping to make everyone laugh. “We heard where you went. No women around you at all. Are you not going mad?”
A ripple of laughter rolled across the room.
Someone else joined in, the kind of person who talked too much because it made him feel important. “Lawrence doesn’t need women,” he declared with mock seriousness. “He’s the most aloof man in the whole city. The most unattainable. Tell me, what kind of woman can even catch his eye?”
More laughter. More teasing.
Lawrence didn’t laugh.
He didn’t defend himself. He didn’t even look offended. He simply took a sip of his drink as if their words were background noise, like the music.
But even without reacting, he still held the room.
That was the thing about Lawrence. He didn’t chase attention.
Attention chased him.
At the edge of the hall, a man watched Lawrence closely, eyes shining with a hunger that had nothing to do with friendship. His suit was expensive. His smile was wide. His confidence looked forced, like a mask he wore every morning and peeled off every night.
His name was Mr. King.
He moved with the boldness of a man who always wanted to be seen beside power, even if it meant standing too close to fire.
When he finally approached Lawrence’s table, he acted like they were equals.
“Lawrence,” he said smoothly. “I have something for you today. A gift.”
Lawrence turned his head slightly. His eyes met Mr. King’s eyes, and the smile on Mr. King’s face almost cracked for half a second.
“What kind of gift?” Lawrence asked.
Mr. King chuckled, waving a hand like it was nothing serious. “Not here. Some things are better… private.”
He leaned closer, voice dropping as if he were sharing a secret that belonged in a vault.
“Come.”
Lawrence didn’t stand immediately. He looked around the hall once more, at the people pretending not to stare, at the women whispering behind their glasses, at the men trying to act like they weren’t desperate for his approval.
Then he stood.
The movement alone made the room quiet for a moment.
Mr. King led him away from the bright hall down a quieter passage where the music became a distant memory. They passed a guarded door. Another man was waiting there, silent, stiff, eyes lowered.
Mr. Stone.
He didn’t greet Lawrence with words. He greeted him with fear.
Mr. King opened the door as if unveiling something precious.
“Come in.”
Inside, the light was dimmer, the air colder. And standing near the wall was a young woman who looked like she had been placed there, not invited.
Her clothes were simple. Worn. Her hands were tense at her sides. Her breathing wasn’t steady.
Her name was Aduni Abayomi.
Twenty-two. Slim. A tired face trying hard not to show how scared she was. Her eyes moved quickly, watching, calculating, begging without words. The moment Lawrence stepped in, her body stiffened like someone who knew escape wasn’t guaranteed.
Mr. King spoke proudly, like he’d just bought a new car.
“This is the person you asked for,” he told Lawrence, voice full of triumph. “Look at her properly.”
Aduni’s lips parted. Her throat moved like she wanted to speak, but fear swallowed the sound.
Mr. King walked around her slowly, showing her off like merchandise. “What do you think? Do you like her? I had Mr. Stone keep her for me for three months.”
Mr. Stone shifted uncomfortably.
Mr. King’s smile widened. “Pure,” he added, as if that word was the greatest achievement a human being could have. “Not only is she beautiful, she’s untouched.”
Aduni’s eyes filled instantly.
“Please,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Please. I didn’t do anything. I don’t belong here.”
Mr. King laughed. “Oh, so you can talk,” he said. “Now you want to pretend you’re a saint.”
Aduni stepped back until her shoulders hit the wall. “Please let me go,” she begged louder. “I’m begging you.”
Mr. King leaned close to her face, voice sweet with cruelty. “Once you enter this door, you’re just a plaything. Why are you acting so virtuous?”
The words struck Aduni like a slap. Her face tightened. She shook her head again and again, as if shaking could remove what she’d heard.
Lawrence watched without expression. Not shock. Not pity. Cold observation.
Mr. King turned back to him, eager. “So,” he asked. “Is she good?”
Lawrence didn’t step closer. He glanced once, like someone inspecting an item he didn’t ask for.
“I don’t need her,” he said plainly.
The sentence landed hard.
Aduni’s eyes widened, not with relief but with confusion. She didn’t know whether to believe him.
Mr. King blinked, then chuckled like Lawrence had told a joke. “Ah. So you don’t want someone this pure?”
He turned toward Aduni, grin widening. “Then I won’t hold back. I’ll take her for myself.”
Aduni’s breath caught. Her hands rose slightly, instinctively, as if she could shield herself from what was coming.
“No,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Please…”
Lawrence’s gaze sharpened.
Something changed. Not softness. Not mercy.
Something else.
Possession. Pride. The feeling of being challenged in his own presence.
Mr. King stepped toward Aduni, still smiling.
And then Lawrence spoke again, voice calm but heavier.
“This woman,” he said, “I’ll take her.”
Mr. King’s smile returned slow and satisfied, like he had still won something.
“Perfect,” he said, stepping back. “Then she’s your problem tonight.”
Aduni didn’t understand what was happening fast enough. One moment she was begging, the next decisions were being traded over her head like money.
Lawrence didn’t comfort her. He looked at her like a man looks at something he has claimed. Calm. Certain. Cold.
“Move,” he told Mr. Stone.
Mr. Stone opened another door leading into a private room that smelled like expensive cologne and clean sheets, the kind of room built for people who never expected to hear the word no.
Lawrence walked in first.
Aduni followed because she had no other choice.
The door closed behind them with a quiet click that sounded too final.
Silence dropped between them.
Aduni stood near the edge of the bed, hands clenched tight. She couldn’t sit. Couldn’t breathe properly. Her heart hammered so hard it hurt.
Lawrence loosened his cufflinks slowly as if he had all the time in the world. Then he looked at her.
“You university girls,” he said flatly, “you have plenty ways to make money.”
Aduni’s throat tightened.
“How much did they pay you?” he asked.
Aduni stared at the floor, shame heavy as iron. She didn’t defend herself. She didn’t explain, not because she didn’t have a reason, but because she knew men like him didn’t ask questions to understand. They asked questions to judge.
“I… I just need money,” she managed softly.
Lawrence gave a short laugh, sharp as glass. “So you sell yourself.”
Aduni swallowed. Her eyes burned. She felt dirty even though she hadn’t done anything wrong, because humiliation has a way of rubbing itself into your skin.
She wanted to scream that she wasn’t like that. That she wasn’t bad. That she was only desperate.
But fear sat on her chest like a stone.
Lawrence stepped closer. Aduni’s shoulders rose, bracing.
He watched her face. Her trembling hands. Her breath catching like she was drowning on land.
For the first time, something like surprise touched his face.
“You’re scared,” he said.
Aduni didn’t answer.
He leaned in slightly, studying her like she didn’t make sense. “Is this your first time?”
Aduni’s lips parted. Embarrassment and panic fought inside her.
She nodded once.
The room went quiet again.
Lawrence blinked, as if that was not the answer he expected. He looked her up and down, still not gentle, but not mocking anymore.
“A girl like you,” he murmured. “And it’s your first time.”
Aduni’s breath shook.
That night changed her. Not in a romantic way people sell in movies, but in the real way a person changes when they survive something they didn’t choose. When morning came, pale light slid through the curtains like it didn’t want to witness the aftermath.
Aduni sat up slowly, body sore, mind foggy, throat tight with words she couldn’t say.
Lawrence slept beside her like consequences didn’t exist.
Aduni stared at him for a moment. He looked peaceful.
She didn’t feel peaceful.
Quietly, she got up. Gathered her things with shaking hands. She didn’t look back twice, because she was afraid if she did, she might break right there.
She left with the kind of silence people leave with after something has changed forever.
Aduni’s real life didn’t wait politely.
It was waiting at home like a hungry animal.
A small house where stress lived permanently, sitting in corners, breathing through the walls. The moment she stepped outside, she called her mother. Her hands still shook.
The phone rang twice.
“What is it?” her mother snapped, like Aduni had called to disturb her peace, not to save a child’s life.
“Mom… it’s me,” Aduni said.
“You brat,” her mother hissed. “Have you gotten the money or not? Your brother fainted again today.”
Aduni closed her eyes.
“I’m working on it,” she whispered.
“Hurry up!” her mother shouted. “You think I sent you to school to be forming big girl? Money is what we need. If that boy dies, you will not live peacefully. Hear me?”
The call ended with harsh breath.
Aduni stood there holding her phone like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Since their father died, her mother had not looked at her like a daughter again.
Only like a solution.
Only like a cash machine.
She called the hospital. The doctor’s voice was professional, but the message was a knife.
“Femi Abayomi’s liver condition is worsening. We need a deposit to secure care and monitoring. And if a major procedure becomes necessary, the cost can rise significantly.”
“How much?” Aduni asked even though dread already had teeth in her stomach.
“Around one million,” the doctor replied gently. “The earlier we act, the better his chances.”
Aduni ended the call and stood still until the world stopped spinning.
Femi was twelve. Thin. Gentle. The only person in that house who still looked at her like she mattered.
If she lost him, she would lose the only safe part of her life.
“I will save you,” she whispered into the air. “No matter what it costs me.”
The words sounded brave.
The truth was: she had no idea how.
She tried to work. She tried to survive.
A small bar-restaurant, dim lights, loud music, men who came to feel rich for three hours. Aduni wore the black uniform, forced politeness into her voice, forced calm into her face.
But desperation makes hands clumsy.
A customer jerked his arm. A glass slipped. A splash of drink hit his shirt.
Time froze.
“Are you mad?” he snapped. “Do you know how much this shirt costs?”
“I’m sorry,” Aduni whispered, grabbing napkins, hands shaking.
The manager arrived sweating and bowing like his life depended on that customer’s mood.
“She poured drink on me,” the man said coldly. “I want her gone.”
The manager turned to Aduni like she was trash that embarrassed him. “Don’t bother coming tomorrow. You’re fired.”
Outside, night air slapped her face. She leaned against the wall and blinked hard to keep tears from falling.
She still needed fifty thousand fast.
And now her one job was gone in one sentence.
A voice came from behind her.
“Aduni.”
She turned.
Lucy Adabio stood there, concern on her face. Lucy was one of the few classmates who had ever been kind without asking for anything.
“What happened?” Lucy asked softly.
Aduni tried to smile; it came out broken. “I lost my job.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Again?”
Aduni nodded.
Lucy lowered her voice. “Do you want me to introduce you to a job?”
Hope and fear collided inside Aduni’s chest. “What kind of job?”
“A cook job,” Lucy said carefully. “At a villa. The Admy family.”
Aduni blinked.
The Admy family meant money. Power. Rooms like cages if you weren’t careful.
“Why is it available?” Aduni asked quickly.
“It’s not dangerous,” Lucy said, then hesitated. “But it’s serious. Full-time. You’ll have to take leave from school.”
Aduni’s throat tightened.
School was her lifeline. Her one clean dream.
But then she saw Femi’s face in her mind, heard his soft voice: Sister… don’t give up on me.
“I can’t lose him,” she whispered.
Lucy touched her arm. “Then cook like your life depends on it.”
Aduni let out a breath that sounded like a laugh with a crack in it.
“It does,” she whispered.
The Admy villa felt like a different planet.
Tall gates. Trimmed flowers. Security men who looked trained to never blink too much. Inside, the air smelled like clean money.
Mr. Lionel O’Keene managed the staff interviews. He was sharp, efficient, the kind of man who had spent years around wealthy people and learned authority without shouting.
“You will cook one dish,” he announced. “No specific dish. Show your skill.”
Aduni didn’t cook something complicated.
She cooked what her hands remembered. What hunger had taught her. What her late grandmother used to make when there was little but love had to stretch.
The kitchen filled with competing smells.
Then footsteps entered.
Mrs. Admy walked in with quiet authority, elegant even in simple clothing. She moved like someone used to being obeyed without raising her voice.
She walked past dishes, inhaling like her nose could tell her what eyes could not.
She stopped at Aduni’s pot.
Her expression changed. Her lips parted slightly. Her gaze went far away, like she’d been pulled back into a memory.
“This smell,” she whispered.
Mr. Lionel stepped forward. “Madam?”
Mrs. Admy didn’t answer him immediately. She stared into the steam like it was showing her a past she had buried.
“It’s exactly like what my grandmother used to make,” she said quietly.
The kitchen went still.
Mrs. Admy looked up at Aduni, studying her face like she was reading a story written in bone.
“Who cooked this?” she asked.
“I… I did, ma,” Aduni said softly.
A long silence.
Then Mrs. Admy’s expression became firm.
“She’s the one,” she said.
Mr. Lionel nodded and turned to Aduni. “Congratulations. Tomorrow, bring your luggage and come to work.”
Aduni’s breath left her like she’d been punched by hope.
“My brother is saved,” she whispered, not daring to believe it.
That same day, she went to school and filed temporary withdrawal papers with her lecturer, promising she’d return.
She didn’t tell him the truth.
That her future was on pause because her brother’s life was on fire.
The next morning, Aduni arrived at the villa with a small bag and a tight heart. She learned rules, wore the staff uniform, tried to become invisible in a house that didn’t notice invisible people until they made mistakes.
By afternoon, car doors sounded. Voices greeted someone important.
“Good afternoon, young master,” Mr. Lionel said respectfully.
Aduni’s knife paused over the chopping board.
A deep, calm voice answered.
Familiar in a way that made her stomach drop.
Her chest tightened before she even turned.
And then she saw him.
Lawrence Admy.
He walked into the villa like he belonged to the walls, like every expensive thing recognized him. He was dressed casually, but still looked costly. Calm eyes. Controlled steps.
Aduni’s fingers went cold.
For a moment the kitchen became that private room again, the locked door, the fear that had tried to live under her skin.
Why is he here?
Then the obvious truth arrived like a cruel joke.
Of course he was here.
This was his home.
Mrs. Admy’s face softened for the first time since Aduni met her. “My son is home,” she said with satisfaction. Then she turned toward Aduni. “Come.”
Aduni wiped her hands and walked out, forcing her legs not to betray her.
Mrs. Admy faced Lawrence. “This is the new cook. Her cooking is especially delicious.”
Lawrence’s eyes moved to Aduni.
He didn’t look surprised.
He looked… amused.
Heat rushed into Aduni’s face.
“Aduni,” Mrs. Admy said, unaware of the storm between them. “This is my son, Lawrence. Tell her what you want to eat.”
Lawrence’s mouth curved slightly as his eyes held Aduni a second too long.
“Anything,” he said calmly. “Let her decide.”
Aduni bowed quickly and returned to the kitchen like she was running from fire.
Behind the doors, she pressed a palm to her chest.
This is not over, fear whispered.
She cooked anyway.
Because in that house, emotions didn’t matter.
Only results.
That night, when the mansion fell quiet, Aduni lay in her small staff room staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come. Memory kept tapping her shoulder like an unpaid debt.
A soft knock came.
Another knock, firmer.
She already knew who it was.
She opened the door slowly.
Lawrence stood there in a dark shirt, sleeves rolled up, looking like someone who had not come to talk.
“Don’t you remember me?” he asked.
Aduni forced a blank look onto her face, even though her mind screamed.
“I… I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
His mouth curved, not amused. Insulted.
He stepped closer, lifting her chin. “Look at me.”
Aduni trembled. “Sir, it’s late.”
A sudden voice called from down the corridor. “Is everything all right?”
Aduni’s heart jumped. “I’m fine,” she called quickly. “I dropped something.”
Footsteps faded.
Lawrence stared at her, jaw tight.
“You’re playing with fire,” he said low.
Then he turned and walked away, not like someone leaving in defeat.
Like someone leaving because he’d decided to return later.
By morning, Aduni went to Mr. Lionel with her voice shaking but firm.
“I want to resign.”
Before Mr. Lionel could speak, Lawrence’s calm voice came from behind.
“Leaving?”
Aduni stiffened.
“You want to quit?” Lawrence asked. “After one night you’re already running.”
“It’s not like that,” she whispered.
He stepped closer. “Don’t you want the money?” His eyes narrowed. “The price is the same as last time.”
Something cracked inside Aduni, not loudly, but finally.
“I’m not doing that again,” she said, voice small but steady. “I’ll cook. I’ll work. But I’m not selling myself.”
Lawrence studied her. Silent.
Then he turned away without another word, leaving her dignity shaking but still standing.
The villa grew busy with family visitors. Among them came Felix Admy, Lawrence’s cousin, charming on the surface, arrogant underneath.
Felix’s eyes locked on Aduni like she was something he could collect.
When she brought trays, he touched her wrist.
“What’s your name?” he asked, too familiar.
“Aduni, sir.”
He smiled wider. “Be my girlfriend.”
Aduni stepped back. “No, sir.”
Felix’s smile tightened. “Don’t push your luck. I’m even looking at you.”
Later, in a corridor, his grip tightened. His voice dropped near her ear.
“This is the Admy family,” he murmured. “With one word from me, they will hand you to me.”
Two maids saw and whispered instead of helping.
“She’s seducing him,” one muttered.
Aduni’s heart squeezed.
Seduce? She was trembling. She was begging.
And then Lawrence appeared like a storm that had chosen a direction.
He took in the scene in one glance: Felix gripping Aduni, Aduni pressed against the wall, fear shining on her face.
“What are you doing?” Lawrence asked, calm in a way that was worse than shouting.
Felix released Aduni halfway and laughed. “Relax. It’s nothing. She tried to seduce me.”
“That’s a lie,” Aduni blurted, voice shaking. “He was trying to force himself on me.”
Felix snapped, “You shameless girl.”
Lawrence moved so fast Felix didn’t finish the insult.
He grabbed Felix by the collar and shoved him back.
“Try it again,” Lawrence said quietly, “and I’ll break your teeth in this house.”
Felix’s eyes widened. “I’m your cousin!”
“And she is my staff,” Lawrence replied. “This house is not your playground.”
He pointed toward the entrance. “Get out. And don’t let me see you near her again.”
Felix stormed off, but his glance back promised trouble.
When the hallway cleared, Aduni stood shaking, rubbing her wrist.
Lawrence thrust an envelope at her. “Take.”
“What is it?” she whispered.
“Enough,” he said. “You’re quitting this job. You will go back to school.”
Aduni shook her head. “I can’t.”
Lawrence’s eyes narrowed.
“My brother,” Aduni said, voice breaking. “He’s sick. I still need money. I want to work. Not… not sell myself again.”
Lawrence stared, then exhaled like he was angry at himself for caring.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll double your salary. But you’ll be my personal attendant. You’ll cook for me morning and night. And you’ll return to school.”
Aduni’s mind raced, fear and relief twisting together.
She nodded slowly.
“Okay,” she whispered. “I accept.”
Life stabilized for a moment, the way a storm quiets before it changes direction.
Aduni returned to campus. She met Dr. Daniel Shahu, the physician who years ago had once protected her from a violent stepfather. Daniel was kind, steady, the kind of man who spoke like he believed your life mattered.
He offered mentorship. An internship. Hope.
And then Lawrence inserted himself into that hope like a shadow sliding over sunlight.
At dinner, Lawrence lied smoothly about how they met. He made Aduni’s suffering sound like an accident he had generously corrected.
Aduni stayed quiet because truth felt dangerous.
When Daniel offered to drive her home, Lawrence cut in.
“I’ll take her.”
In the car, Lawrence’s voice turned cold. “Do you like him?”
“No,” Aduni lied, then snapped under the weight of everything.
“You think I enjoyed that night?” she said, trembling with pain. “That night was survival. And you still look at me like I’m dirt.”
For a moment, something flickered in Lawrence’s eyes.
Then pride returned like armor snapping shut.
Valentine’s Day arrived with a private art space and a red coral necklace that felt both beautiful and heavy, like a claim disguised as a gift.
Daniel warned her quietly: “Be careful.”
And then Crystal Shaw returned.
Tall. Elegant. Dangerous in silence. Her family had history with the Admys. A childhood engagement, grown into an expectation.
When Crystal asked Lawrence, “Is there someone else?” and he said nothing, silence became a confession.
Crystal’s eyes slid to Aduni once, cold and surgical.
“Good,” Crystal said softly. “I’ll see you soon.”
At the banquet that followed, everything glittered. Cameras. Power. Perfume.
Aduni tried to stay invisible.
But nerves betrayed her.
A drink spilled onto Crystal’s expensive dress.
The humiliation came fast, sharp, public. People’s words bit harder than any slap.
Daniel stepped in, paying compensation, diffusing the scene.
Aduni stood shaking, shame crawling under her skin.
Later, Lawrence told her calmly, “You embarrassed yourself.”
Aduni forced the words out. “If I pay you back… can you release me?”
“One year is one year,” Lawrence replied. “Not a day less.”
Trapped.
The next day, Daniel offered her one million.
“Leave him,” Daniel said softly. “End this.”
Aduni wanted freedom like breath. She brought the money to Lawrence, trembling.
Lawrence’s control snapped.
“What gives you the right to decide we’re done?” he demanded.
“I don’t want to live like something you own,” Aduni whispered.
Lawrence pointed to the door. “Get out.”
So she ran to Lucy’s place, shaking, hollow, thinking at least it was over.
It wasn’t.
Daniel came to check on her, confessed feelings, then when she rejected him, his kindness slid off like a mask.
“You’ve really disappointed me,” he said softly. “Since the gentle way won’t work… I’m afraid you’ll suffer a bit.”
That night, Aduni disappeared.
Not with screaming on the street.
With a hand over her mouth.
A sharp smell.
Darkness.
She woke in a locked room. Daniel walked in calm as a doctor making rounds, except his eyes held something sick with certainty.
“You don’t have a choice,” he told her. “Be obedient. And your brother stays safe.”
Aduni realized then: he didn’t want love.
He wanted ownership.
She pretended to obey while her mind counted every sound, every lock, every guard step, waiting for one crack.
A report hit Daniel’s hospital: illegal organ trading allegations. In the scramble, a door was left half latched.
A tiny mistake.
A tiny miracle.
Aduni ran.
Lucy panicked. She called Lawrence.
When Lawrence heard, “Aduni is missing,” the air around him changed like a blade unsheathing.
“Check surveillance,” he ordered. “Gather my security. Now.”
A convoy moved. An ambush came. Cars blocked the road. Men with weapons appeared. Chaos exploded.
Daniel emerged dragging Aduni, hands tied, face bruised, eyes wild.
“One wrong move,” Daniel taunted, “and she dies.”
Lawrence’s voice came low and deadly. “Let her go.”
Daniel smiled. “She doesn’t want me. So I’ll break her until she does.”
Aduni lifted her head, trembling but fierce.
“I’d rather die,” she said, voice raw, “than go with you.”
She fought, desperate, trying to create any opening. The moment shattered into noise, movement, fear.
Then darkness slammed in.
Aduni woke under bright hospital lights.
Her first word was Lawrence’s name.
She found him unconscious, machines breathing around him. Panic rose like fire.
“Lawrence,” she sobbed, gripping his hand. “Please don’t die.”
Her tears fell hard, not elegant. Real.
For the first time, she understood the cruel joke of life.
The man who had once treated her like a purchase had become the person who bled to keep her alive.
A weak voice rasped, half amused. “You’ll choke me if you squeeze like that.”
Aduni froze.
Lawrence’s eyes were half open.
Relief hit her so hard she laughed through tears.
He recovered slowly. Daniel was captured.
“What do you want to do with him?” Lawrence asked Aduni.
Aduni stared at Daniel, the man who had smiled kindly while building a cage.
“Hand him to the police,” she said.
Lawrence nodded. “Do as she says.”
Later, in quiet, Lawrence spoke like a man swallowing glass.
“I owe you an apology,” he said. “I used money to force you. I treated you like something I paid for, not like a person.”
Aduni stayed silent, listening.
“It won’t happen again,” he said.
Then, softer, almost unsure: “I like you. Not because I paid. Not because of a deal. I like you because you’re you.”
Aduni’s eyes filled.
Lawrence took her hand gently, not claiming, not commanding.
“Be my girlfriend,” he said.
Aduni nodded through tears. “Yes.”
But peace didn’t last long in a world built on power.
Crystal confronted Lawrence with threats sharpened into promises.
“If you cancel the engagement,” she said, “I will make her disappear.”
Lawrence slid a file across the table: evidence of the Shaw family’s underground operations.
“If you touch Aduni,” he told Crystal, “I will pull the ground from under you.”
Crystal’s pride snapped back into place. “Then I’ll crush your family business,” she said. “Unless… Aduni leaves you.”
Aduni overheard enough to understand the shape of danger.
That night, she made a choice that broke her heart.
She met Crystal secretly.
“I’ll leave him,” Aduni said, voice tight.
Crystal smiled. “Two days. Disappear properly.”
Aduni returned to Lawrence and forced a lie into her mouth.
“We’re not right for each other,” she said. “I’m leaving.”
Lawrence’s eyes searched her face like he could pull truth out by force.
“This isn’t you,” he said.
Aduni lowered her gaze, because if she looked at him, she would confess everything and doom them both.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Goodbye.”
She walked away, leaving him standing in silence.
Lawrence didn’t accept it.
He watched security footage. He saw the visitor. He saw her shaking hands. He saw fear.
“So she was forced,” he murmured.
And then he did something terrifyingly strategic.
He called Crystal.
“Let’s get engaged,” Lawrence said.
Crystal’s delight was immediate. “The engagement party will be on the second of next month.”
“Fine,” Lawrence replied.
He ended the call and turned cold.
“This is a trap,” he told his assistant. “Quietly gather every piece of evidence. No mistakes.”
Crystal, greedy for certainty, ordered Aduni taken anyway.
“Send her to the black market,” she said. “Make it clean.”
Aduni was closing Lucy’s shop when the van rolled up. Hands grabbed. A cloth smothered her mouth. Darkness swallowed her.
Lawrence got the call like a knife.
“Aduni has been taken.”
His voice came out low, deadly. “Then we go to war.”
But another force moved too.
Jasper Whale.
He wasn’t Lawrence’s friend. He wasn’t Crystal’s enemy. He was a man chasing a ghost.
He had noticed a small mark near Aduni’s wrist, a detail that matched a report from years ago. A stolen baby. A missing daughter.
He tested DNA in secret.
The results hit him like a punch.
Aduni was his sister.
Chief Jude Whale’s long-lost daughter.
And she was missing.
The Whale family moved with speed money can’t buy.
Within hours, mercenaries hit the holding location like thunder breaking a door. The criminals’ confidence collapsed the moment they understood who had arrived.
Aduni was pulled out, shaking, weak, terrified. A jacket was placed over her shoulders.
“You’re safe now,” someone said gently.
Aduni didn’t understand safe. Not yet.
She was taken to a guarded estate where an older man stood with tears he didn’t bother hiding.
Chief Jude Whale.
“I am your biological father,” he said, voice breaking.
Jasper stepped forward. “And I’m your brother.”
Aduni stared, stunned.
All her life she had begged for kindness from people who used her.
Now someone was begging her.
“Please,” Chief Jude whispered. “Give me a second chance.”
Aduni swallowed. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll return.”
Then she raised one finger, steady.
“I need your help,” she said. “I want to crush the Shaw family for Lawrence’s sake.”
Chief Jude didn’t hesitate. “No problem.”
News broke like glass.
Lawrence held a press conference.
“I am ending the engagement,” he announced, calm under cameras.
He didn’t stop there.
“I am also cooperating fully with investigations into illegal underground operations connected to the Shaw family.”
Evidence spilled into public space. Banks froze accounts. Partners fled. The untouchable name shook.
That night, officers arrived.
Crystal and her grandfather were arrested.
Power finally met consequence.
Aduni returned to Lawrence’s penthouse without announcing herself.
She was tired of running.
The lights were off. The silence felt too big.
Then soft lights came on.
People were there. Not strangers.
Mrs. Admy stood with wet eyes. Close friends smiled. Jasper watched from the back like a protective shadow pretending he wasn’t emotional.
Lawrence stepped forward.
He looked different.
Not arrogant. Not controlling.
Just real.
“Aduni,” he said, voice steady. “I love you.”
Her breath caught.
“I know I started wrong,” he continued. “I know I hurt you. I tried to own you instead of loving you.”
He swallowed hard. “But you changed me. And I don’t want a life where you’re not in it.”
He dropped to one knee.
The room went so quiet it felt like the house was holding its breath.
“Aduni,” Lawrence said, eyes shining. “Marry me.”
Aduni covered her mouth, shaking.
For so long she had been treated like something people could buy.
Now the man who once tried to buy her was kneeling, asking with his whole heart.
Tears rolled down her face.
She nodded.
“Yes,” she whispered, then louder, stronger, like she was claiming her own voice back. “Yes.”
The room erupted: laughter, tears, blessings.
Mrs. Admy pressed a hand to her chest like she’d been waiting to breathe again. Jasper looked away, pretending his eyes weren’t wet.
Lawrence stood and held Aduni gently, not like property.
Like something precious.
He leaned in and kissed her, not rough, not claiming, just love. The kind of kiss that says, I choose you freely.
And in that moment, Aduni Abayomi stepped into a new life.
Not as a bargain.
Not as a victim.
But as a woman who survived, and still found a hand waiting at the end of the storm.
THE END
