CHAPTER NINE: BREAKING FREE
The city never sleeps, but that morning Lagos felt like it was holding its breath. Zainab's bag was small — just the essentials: a few clothes, her mother's medicine, the envelope of money she had earned, and her phone.
Her heart pounded as she stepped out of her apartment, trying to blend with the early commuters trudging through flooded streets. Across the road, she noticed the same black car from the night before. Two men in dark suits watched the building with patience and precision.
She swallowed hard. The risk was higher than she had imagined. Chief's reach was far, and Tomiwa's warnings echoed in her head: "Lagos only rewards obedience."
Zainab's first stop was Kunle's office. The journalist greeted her cautiously.
"You came," he said softly.
"I need help," she said. Her voice was steady, though her hands shook. "I can't stay there anymore. I can't keep pretending."
Kunle nodded. "We'll be careful. First, you need proof — documents, contacts, anything that ties Chief and his associates to the system of control. Then we go public. You'll be safe after that."
Zainab exhaled. For the first time in months, she felt a flicker of hope.
Over the next few days, they worked in secret. Zainab gathered what she could — messages from Tomiwa, receipts, photos of the apartments, and small notes that revealed the network Chief had built. Each piece was another thread she could use to unravel the trap.
But Chief noticed her absence quickly. Tomiwa sent her a warning message:
"Zee… don't do anything stupid. You think you can escape? Think again."
Zainab's stomach churned. She had trusted Tomiwa, had believed in their friendship. Now she realized how deeply the betrayal ran.
One evening, after a long day collecting evidence, Zainab sat in Kunle's office staring at the documents spread across the table.
"I can't undo the past," she whispered, "but I can stop them from hurting others."
Kunle placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "That's enough. That's more than enough."
The following night, Zainab agreed to meet Chief one last time — but this time, she went prepared. Kunle had arranged for hidden cameras and backup in case things went wrong.
Chief welcomed her warmly, oblivious to the plan unfolding behind the scenes.
"You're looking radiant," he said, handing her a glass of wine.
"Thank you," Zainab said softly. Her hands didn't shake. Not this time.
As Chief continued to talk, Kunle and his team broadcasted the evidence they had collected — messages, photos, records — to the authorities. The network's walls, built over months of manipulation and fear, began to crumble.
Chief's smile faltered. Zainab kept her head down, staring at her glass, feeling both terrified and empowered.
After the confrontation, Zainab left the mansion, the rain washing over her like a baptism. She had survived. She had exposed the corruption. But the victory was bittersweet — she knew she would never fully return to the innocence of her past.
In the weeks that followed, investigations swept through Lagos. Several people involved in the network were arrested, and new protections were put in place to help young women avoid the same traps Zainab had fallen into.
Tomiwa vanished, a reminder that betrayal often came with no closure. But Zainab didn't dwell. She returned to Ijebu, carrying her mother's medicine and a sense of purpose she had never known before.
Sitting in the small garden outside her mother's home, Zainab whispered a promise:
"I will live. Not for the money, not for the gifts… but for those who can't yet fight for themselves."
Her eyes traced the horizon, where the sun rose over the quiet town. The journey had cost her innocence, her trust, and her comfort. But it had also given her something no luxury or chain ever could: the courage to stand and the strength to fight for others.
And for the first time in years, Zainab felt free.