''This way,''
Kyle said with a slight nod, after coming back to his senses, his voice low and efficient, guiding her toward a dimly lit corner of the bustling office where two stylists waited, watching under a hooded gaze.
One held a makeup palette that shimmered under the fluorescent lights, the other an array of hair tools that promised transformation. Amy hesitated for a split second, her reflection in a nearby window catching her eye—she already looked good from what she could see. But then again. She knew not to argue, she followed, sinking into the chair they pulled out for her.
The stylists worked; their speed was admirable. They parted her weave to cascade over one shoulder in glossy, ebony waves that shone like polished obsidian. They cleaned off the previous makeup she had on and applied another, which was subtle yet striking: a sweep of nude shadow to accent her almond-shaped eyes, a touch of highlighter on her cheekbones that made her chocolate skin glow with an ethereal sheen, and a soft berry tint on her full lips. She stared at the mirror beside her and couldn't believe it. If she thought she looked good before, she looked even better now. She didn't think it was possible to look this good.
They stepped back, exchanging glances of quiet admiration, their eyes lingering on how the simple enhancements amplified her natural allure. Amy caught their stares in the mirror and felt a flush creep up her neck—it had been ages since anyone looked at her like that, with appreciation rather than pity or revulsion. Back then, the world had hurled nothing but disdain her way, from her own family to strangers on the internet. It was unnerving, like stepping into a spotlight she'd long avoided.
She rose and walked back into the main office area, heels clicking softly on the tiled floor. Heads turned—colleagues pausing mid-conversation, their gazes tracing her form in the fitted dress that hugged her curves just right. Whispers followed, a mix of envy and curiosity, making her shoulders tense. She smoothed her hands over her hips, trying to shake off the awkwardness, when her phone buzzed in unison with Kyle's. A quick glance: the boss was summoning them up front. No time to dwell; they hurried out, the office hum fading behind them.
In the sleek black orvian, Kyle slid into the driver's seat while Amy settled in the back beside Tonna—the boss himself. He didn't so much as glance her way, his focus glued to the glowing screen of his iPad, fingers tapping with rhythmic intensity. The city blurred past the tinted windows: Rewick's chaotic traffic weaving through towering buildings, horns blaring like distant thunder. Amy stole sidelong looks at him; his sharp profile was unreadable, his jaw was set in concentration. The silence stretched, making her very awkward and self-conscious as she kept shifting in her seat. Tonna did not once lift his head. She took in short breaths and ensured to let out as quietly as possible until they pulled up to a hotel's grand entrance, where she inhaled a deep sigh of relief. The marble pillars and cascading fountains sparkled under the afternoon sun.
Tonna and Amy alighted first, the warm breeze carrying hints of Honeysuckle from the landscaped gardens. Kyle drove off to park, but as soon as they vanished through the brass polished revolving doors— spinning with a soft whoosh. He yanked out his phone. His thumb flew over the screen, speed-dialling a familiar number.
''Yes, Mr Ziko just went in with her... no, okay, will do.''
The call ended abruptly, his expression neutral as he manoeuvred the car into a spot, engine purring to a stop.
Meanwhile, inside the hotel's lavish lobby, with its crystal chandeliers casting prismatic light across gleaming tiled floors and glamorous velvet armchairs, Tonna paused just before the elevator to the penthouse suites. He reached into his pocket, producing a tiny in-ear device that looked like a high-tech earring. With surprising gentleness, he slipped it into her ear, his fingers brushing her lobe as he adjusted her weave to conceal it. The touch was fleeting, but it sent her heart into a frantic gallop, pounding so loudly she swore he could hear the erratic thump against her ribs. Heat bloomed in her chest, unbidden and intense.
''Don't lose that,'' he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her.
''Yes, sir!'' she replied, her tone sharper than intended, laced with a mix of nerves and resolve.
''Don't stray too far from me. Remember to stay within my peripheral vision, understand?'' His eyes locked on hers, dark and commanding.
''Yes, sir!'' Again, the words tumbled out, her breath hitching.
He leaned in slightly, his gaze piercing.
''We're going fishing, and you, my dear, are my hook. So stick close because these sharks are very dangerous. Once they bite, they don't have the sense to let go, understand?''
She nodded, swallowing hard, the metaphor sinking in like cold water—vivid and chilling. It was clear that these weren't just businessmen; they were predators in tailored suits, circling for their next victim.
''Good. Always be alert, and don't lose that in-ear. Whatever you hear or see, remember to take mental notes and pictures. You're not just my bait but also my eyes and ears.''
Another nod from her, she had no idea what awaited her, but somehow she trusted that her Boss would keep her safe no matter what. He stepped back, appraising her from head to toe.
''You've grown a lot more confident than I remember.''
She blinked, caught off guard. Confused by the observation, but yeah, she had. Back then, her meekness was a shield, a way to avoid rocking the boat for the man she'd devoted everything to. Now, with him gone, along with her children, what was left to fear? Nothing. That loss had forged a spine of steel in her.
They proceeded through the double doors into the penthouse lounge, where the scent of aged whiskey and fresh orchids was strong. The decor screamed extravagance: walls panelled in dark mahogany, crystal decanters glinting on side tables, and a massive chandelier dripping with Skirovskwa crystals that scattered light like diamonds on the plush carpet. Only about twenty people mingled here, their laughter was restrained, but the spread was fit for a banquet—platters of caviar-topped blinis, succulent lobster tails, and exotic fruits arranged in towering displays. It felt wasteful, almost mocking, for such a small crowd.
''Tonna, you made it,'' a voice cut through the murmur, belonging to a man with a gleaming bald head and a slim, wiry build that spoke of disciplined gym routines. He looked to be in his late fifties, maybe early sixties—hard to pin down with his fit physique, but the silver threads in his brows betrayed the years. He clasped Tonna's hand firmly, his eyes sliding over to Amy with a slow, deliberate sweep that made her skin prickle, like insects crawling beneath her dress.
''And this is...?'' he drawled, not breaking his gaze from her, his tone dripping with oily curiosity.
''Amy, my secretary,'' Tonna replied smoothly. He turned to her with a faint smile.
''Say hi—he's the Manager of RB Petroleum for this district, Mr Ami.''
She extended her hand, forcing a warm smile despite the unease churning in her gut.
''It's a pleasure, sir. I've heard so much about you.''
Both men turned to her, brows arched in mild surprise. ''Oh?'' Mr Ami said, his eyes never leaving hers, narrowing with intrigue.
She held his stare, unflinching. She'd faced worse—men whose leers were knives, not just nuisances.
''I was really impressed with your suggestions to provide more safety clauses for workers offshore at the summit last year. You're truly amazing, sir. I've been wanting to meet you and express my appreciation for all that you do for the workers in your district. You're an icon in this field.''
Her words hung in the air, polished flattery wrapped in sincerity she didn't feel. Mr Ami's face lit up, flattered beyond measure, and he turned to Tonna with a chuckle.
''You sure know how to pick them. These young ones these days are always over the top with their flattery, but you... you speak well.''
His eyes roved over her again, lingering on the curve of her neck, the shine of her skin.
''Please, come in and make yourselves at home. Um, can I have a word, Tonna?''
Tonna nodded to Amy, signalling her to wander off while he continued the conversation. She flashed another smile and sauntered away, her hips swaying just enough to maintain the facade, disappearing into the crowd. As soon as she was out of earshot, Mr Ami pulled Tonna into a shadowed corner, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
''Could you please lend me your secretary? I can't believe you've been hiding that gem all this time. Boy, are you trying to fool this old man?''
''Not in the least''
Tonna replied, masking his disgust at the man's lecherous tone.
''She never likes coming to these things. I had to convince her.''
The older man laughed, a throaty sound that echoed slightly.
''Right, I'll help myself then.''
He clapped Tonna on the shoulder and strode off to mingle with other guests, leaving Tonna to chuckle inwardly as he greeted a cluster of suited figures nearby.
A few minutes later, the room's attention shifted as Mr Ami took centre stage, glass in hand, his voice booming with charisma.
''Good afternoon, everyone. Ah! It's been a while since we've all been able to gather like this. This truly is a special moment. I have my closest people with me right now. From now on, I'm no longer just your manager but your chief. So, this is to the future. I wish to celebrate many more with you all. Cheers!''
Glasses clinked in unison, the crystal ringing like tiny bells, and the group echoed
''Cheers!''
Before dissolving back into pockets of conversation, and laughter bubbling up amid the clatter of silverware.
Amy found herself drawn to a massive painting on the far wall, its frame gilded and ornate. She stood before it, sipping from a flute of champagne she'd grabbed to blend in, her eyes tracing the bold strokes. The artwork depicted Athena, goddess of wisdom and war, perched on a golden throne in flowing Greek robes, her expression fierce yet serene. Flanking her were Hercules, muscles rippling under his lion skin, and Ares, armoured and brooding, weapons at the ready. The colours popped—vibrant blues and golds that seemed to pulse with life.
''She is stunning, isn't she?''
The voice slithered up behind her, low and intimate, accompanied by the offer of a fresh wine glass. Mr Ami, of course, wore a heavy cloud of leather and spice cologne.
Amy accepted the glass, clinking it against his with a coy smile, then brought it to her lips. She held the tart liquid in her mouth, letting it swirl, before discreetly spitting it back when his eyes flicked to the painting. No chances here—alertness was key.
''Athena, the goddess of wisdom and military strategy,''
He continued, his tone reverent.
''I've always preferred her to her sister Aphrodite. She's a woman of many talents—brains and brawn, not just beauty.''
Amy nodded, smiling as she studied the canvas.
''Strong women like her actually do something to me,''
He added, taking a slow sip, his gaze sliding to her profile, heavy with implication.
''You like them?''
He pressed, watching her intently.
She turned to him, her smile widening, then back to the painting, letting the moment stretch. Finally, she nodded.
''There's an art gallery opening next week. If you'd like to be my plus-one, I'd love to take you.''
He licked his lips, not expecting much, his eyes tracing the line of her jaw.
''Why not?''
She replied, turning fully to face him, her voice light but laced with tease.
His heart visibly skipped—eyes widening, a flush creeping up his neck.
''I'll send you the invite.''
He said, his stare devouring her once more, before he reluctantly walked away, leaving her with the glass raised in mock toast.
''Are you okay?''
Tonna's voice cut in moments later, his presence reassuring beside her.
She smiled, genuine this time. ''Never been better.''
''So how did you know about Mr Ami?''
He took a sip of his drink, turning to look at the painting. She turned too as she spoke.
''Kyle had some documents of...'' She looked around discreetly before continuing
''Some figures in this room. He had asked me to study and learn about them, as they may come in handy, so I did.''
He smiled, not looking away from the painting, a flicker of approval in his eyes. But the evening's undercurrents were far from over.
MAMA DURU'S HOME
However, back at Mama Duru's home, the atmosphere was worlds away—tense and domestic, the scent of stew simmering on the stove filled the air.
''Linda, have you still not found that girl?'' Mama D asked, her voice crackling over the phone, edged with frustration and worry.
''Shouldn't you ask your children? It's been several days since she left. She has no other family except you, and she would have come in contact with at least one of them''
Linda replied, her tone practical, almost accusatory.
Mama D ended the call, her fingers trembling as she bit at her nails, the habit a telltale sign of her anxiety. The house felt eerily quiet, sunlight filtering through lace curtains onto the gleaming ceramic tiled floors. She glanced upstairs, her heart pounding.
''Onyinye! Joy!'' she called, her voice echoing up the staircase. No response.
''Joy! Onyinye!'' she called Louder now, climbing the steps with growing unease.
She pushed open Joy's door. The room was empty, the bed neatly made, no sign of anyone there. Then she went to Onyinye's room, which was also vacant. The air was still and silent. Where had they gone? They were here earlier, she was sure. Fumbling for her phone again, she dialled Joy's number, only to hear the automated message:
The number you are calling is switched off, please try again later
A knot twisted in her stomach.
As she turned to leave, the bathroom door creaked open, steam wafting out like a ghost. Onyinye emerged, wrapped in a fluffy shower robe, her phone blasting upbeat Afrobeat tunes as she hummed along, towel-drying her damp curls.
''Mom?'' Onyinye froze, surprise widening her eyes.
''You were in the bathroom all this time?'' Mama Duru asked, relief mixing with irritation.
Onyinye nodded, padding over to her dresser. ''Where is your sister?'' her mother pressed.
''She should be in her room,'' Onyinye said casually, unscrewing a jar of butter cream and smoothing it over her arms.
''Well, she's not there or anywhere in this house,'' Mama D snapped, her voice rising.
Onyinye paused, thinking, then settled onto the stool, continuing her routine.
''If she's not in, then she probably went out.''
Her mother sighed heavily, sinking onto the edge of the queen-sized bed, its floral duvet rumpling under her weight.
''Are you in touch with Amarachi?''
Onyinye turned, shock etching her features. Mama had forbidden any contact with her, even going as far as changing all their numbers to enforce it. Why the sudden shift? Unsure, she stood and crossed to her mother, taking her hand gently and guiding her to sit properly on the bed.
''Mom, we've done all you've asked of us. But we don't understand why you're cutting off communication between us and Sister Amara. What exactly is going on that we don't know?''
Mama D sighed, forcing a weak smile.
''I just wanted your elder sister to grow up. She was always relying on me and your brother. I mean, we won't be here forever. She seems to take everything for granted because your brother and I are here for her. She refused to get a job or even do anything. How can a woman survive with such a mentality in this day and age? This is why I sent her off to live with my friend. Maybe she can finally start growing up, but... I guess I made a mistake or may have gone too far because I just received a call from my friend saying that she's run away. Honestly, I am tired and don't know what to do with her anymore.''
Tears welled up, spilling over as she broke down, shoulders shaking. Onyinye wrapped an arm around her, murmuring comforts.
''Mom, if that was the case, you should have let us know instead of going about it the way you did. We had no idea what it was you were hoping to achieve by separating siblings. And I'm sure if you had explained it to Sister Amara, she would have understood. We all know how much you love and care for her.''
''I know,'' Mama D sniffled, dabbing at her eyes.
''Which is why I'm trying to contact her now to explain things. I indeed did not act the wiser. I should have treated her like an adult and explained my intentions. Both my words and actions must have hurt her.''
She turned to Onyinye, pleading.
''If you hear from her, could you please let me know? Don't alert her, or she might run off again. I just want to explain myself and tell her how sorry I am for the way I treated her.''
Onyinye smiled softly, squeezing her mother's hand.
''Of course, Mom. I'll let you know as soon as I contact her.''