CHAPTER FIVE: CROSSING THE LINE
The morning air was heavy with the smell of rain and diesel. Lagos felt quieter than usual, though Zainab knew the city never really slept — it only paused between hustles.
She sat by the window for a long time, staring at the envelope of money. Every time she looked at it, she saw two worlds: the one she came from, and the one she was standing on the edge of now.
When Tomiwa entered, she didn't speak at first. She just watched her friend in silence, then said softly, "You've been thinking all night, haven't you?"
Zainab nodded. "I don't know what to do."
"You do," Tomiwa replied. "You're just afraid to admit it."
Zainab looked at her sharply. "What if I lose myself?"
Tomiwa sighed. "Zee, Lagos doesn't care who you are. It only cares what you have. Just go to the dinner. Talk. Smile. That's all. You don't owe him anything more unless you decide to."
But they both knew it wasn't that simple.
That evening, Zainab dressed in the soft peach gown Tomiwa lent her. It hugged her body like a secret she wasn't ready to tell. Tomiwa helped her with her makeup again, humming to the radio.
"Perfect," she said, stepping back. "You look like money."
Zainab forced a smile. Her heart thudded painfully.
When they arrived at the mansion in Ikoyi, Zainab almost turned back. The gate alone was bigger than her entire house back home. Security men in black stood like statues, nodding as Tomiwa drove in.
Inside, the air smelled of polished wood and old money. Laughter spilled from the living room where a few men sat lounging with drinks. Chief Adewale was among them.
"Ah, my beautiful Zainab!" he said, rising with a grin. "I was afraid you'd forgotten our little dinner."
Zainab bowed her head slightly. "Good evening, sir."
"Chief," he corrected again, smiling.
The dinner was smaller than the restaurant gathering — just Chief, two other men, and Tomiwa. Food was served on plates of fine china, with wine that sparkled in tall glasses. Zainab barely touched hers.
Chief kept the conversation flowing — politics, travel, "young people today." Every few minutes, he turned to Zainab with a question meant to make her speak, and every time, she answered politely, carefully.
As the night deepened, the other guests left one by one. Tomiwa pretended to take a phone call and stepped out too, leaving Zainab alone with Chief.
The silence that followed felt heavy.
"Do you trust your friend?" Chief asked suddenly.
Zainab hesitated. "Yes. She's like my sister."
He chuckled, swirling his glass. "Hmm. Be careful with people who sell dreams, my dear. They usually keep the profit for themselves."
Zainab didn't know how to respond. She only managed a weak smile.
Chief stood and walked toward the window, hands clasped behind his back. "You remind me of my daughter," he said quietly. "She was about your age before she went abroad. So full of hope."
He turned to her, eyes soft but unreadable. "You're a good girl, Zainab. You shouldn't suffer like others. Let me take care of you."
Zainab swallowed hard. "Sir—Chief, I can't—"
He raised a hand, cutting her off. "Don't answer yet. Think about it. I don't want you to feel pressured. I only offer what I can afford — comfort, protection, a chance to live freely."
He stepped closer, gently brushing her hand with his. "You deserve nice things. Let me give them to you."
Her heart pounded. She stood frozen, every instinct screaming to pull away — but her mind flashed through images: Mama coughing in her hospital bed, the empty cupboards, her siblings' faces.
When Tomiwa returned later, she found Zainab outside by the car, staring blankly into the night.
"Zee, are you okay?" she asked.
Zainab nodded slowly. "He said he wants to help me."
Tomiwa smiled knowingly. "That's good. That's how it starts."
Zainab looked up, eyes distant. "And how does it end?"
Tomiwa didn't answer. She only sighed and said, "It depends on how strong you are."
That night, back in the apartment, Zainab placed Chief's card on the table. The gold letters glimmered faintly under the lamp: Adewale & Sons Holdings.
She stared at it for a long time before whispering, "Mama, forgive me."
And with trembling hands, she sent him a message.
"Good evening, Chief. Thank you for tonight. I would like to see you again."
When she pressed send, she knew something inside her had changed — not broken, not healed, but shifted forever.