The following morning, Chioma woke to a shaft of sunlight slicing across her room. She stretched, feeling a knot of anticipation in her stomach at the thought of submitting her CV at Grace Shopping Mall and hoping to get the job. Not seeing her mother, Louisa, in the room, Chioma assumed she had already left for the market to begin her sales for the day. However, the tantalising aroma of sizzling plantains and the rhythmic clatter of utensils in the kitchen hinted that Louisa was still at home. Andrew remained in his room, absorbed in reading the news on his phone.
Entering the kitchen, Chioma found Louisa bustling about, her hands expertly maneuvering pans and utensils as she prepared breakfast.
'I've prepared some clothes for you in the bathroom,' Louisa informed Chioma, her warm smile reassuring. 'I hope they bring you good luck. After freshening up and having your breakfast, you need to leave.'
Grateful for her mother's thoughtfulness, Chioma nodded and headed towards the bathroom. Just as she reached for the doorknob, her phone rang. It was Chisom calling. Chioma answered and greeted her friend, asking what was up.
'Just wanted to wish you good luck... but I'd be even happier if you came to work with me,' Chisom said with a giggle.
'Are you really wishing me luck or bad luck?' Chioma chuckled in response.
'Come on, I'm just teasing. I genuinely wish you the best,' Chisom replied with a smile.
Chioma smiled as she hung up the call. After finishing her bath, she got dressed and went to the dining area.
'I really want to secure a job,' Chioma expressed to Andrew, who was now eating breakfast.
Andrew grinned and patted her arm. 'Sit down and have a cup of achara tea,' he said.
Chioma poured herself a cup of tea and also topped up Andrew's cup. She took a sip, hoping Andrew would wish her good luck, but his response was not what she expected.
'You're in love, right?'
Andrew's unexpected question caused Chioma to nearly spew the tea in her mouth. She knew exactly why he had asked. She looked up at him, a rare smile forming on her face, and Andrew's hopeful expression confirmed their unspoken understanding. There was nothing more that needed to be said between them. Andrew got it all.
'Perhaps you love him from a distance?' Andrew took a sip of his hot tea. 'I understand... Destiny will bring both of you together,' he said, reassuring Chioma with a smile.
Chioma nodded, her smile widening.
'My sister looks beautiful,' Andrew changed the subject, teasing Chioma. 'But not as beautiful as Mum.' He turned his head to proudly look at Louisa, who walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate of fried plantains and eggs. Louisa wore a pink apron adorned with rose flowers.
Chioma giggled, finding it hard to believe she was beautiful. She knew her beauty wasn't the type to awe people, but her facial features were delicate and easily remembered. Her mother was beautiful, just like Andrew. Chioma had inherited her less striking looks from her father. Despite being almost 54 years old, Louisa still looked young and sweet, radiating elegance even as she sold fruits under the scorching sun of the open-market not too far from their home.
'It's almost eight, Chioma. You have to leave early to have a better chance,' Louisa said, heading back to the kitchen.
Chioma nodded and quickly finished her breakfast. Afterward, she wiped the corners of her mouth with her handkerchief.
It was just before eight-thirty when they left the house. Andrew headed to the garage where he worked, Louisa pushed her fruit cart to the market, and Chioma made her way to Grace Shopping Mall, one of the most luxurious malls in the city, to submit her CV.
To save money for lunch, Chioma decided to walk to the junction before boarding a taxi to the shopping mall. She wore a simple blue cotton dress, her hair neatly tied up, showcasing her graceful neck. Her makeup was light, and she clutched a casual black handbag. In the other, she held a worn-out plastic file folder. The clear plastic was scuffed and scratched, telling the story of countless uses. On the front, a white sheet of paper clung stubbornly, its edges frayed and browned with age. Across it, Chioma had written boldly in black marker, the words now slightly faded: INTERVIEW FILE. With her plain black heels, she walked elegantly and gracefully, the worn file held tightly. Each crease and mark on the file spoke volumes of her journey in life.
As she walked, Chioma allowed her mind to wander and imagined herself dressing up smartly for work in an office, buying gifts for her beloved brother, and updating her mother's wardrobe. Lost in these sweet thoughts, she failed to notice a blue and black Bugatti Chiron sports car approaching. Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by the sight of a stray dog darting into the street. The car swerved abruptly, struggling to avoid a collision with the animal. The sudden movement sent a rush of wind past Chioma, causing her to stagger backward in surprise. Unaware of her surroundings, she didn't anticipate the danger looming. Then, with alarming speed, the car veered sharply to evade the obstacle, coming dangerously close to Chioma's path. In a reflexive gasp, she stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding a collision. However, the force of the car's sudden movement caused her to lose her balance and fall to the ground, her interview file scattering in the chaos. The car came to a stop not far away.
Chioma stared at the debris of her dreams scattered on the road—her interview file, its worn cover gaping open. The photocopies of her credentials, painstakingly collected and arranged, now lay scattered like fallen leaves, some crumpled, others smeared with dust. Disappointment pricked at her like a swarm of angry bees. A throbbing pain shot through her knee, reminding her that this was no movie. She had scoffed at superstitions, but a cold dread coiled in her stomach. Was some unseen force conspiring against her? Perhaps this was destiny's way of leading her towards something. A flicker of a scene from a forgotten romance flick crossed her mind—a handsome stranger rushing to her aid, whisking her away to the hospital. But reality mocked her. There would be no prince charming here, just the sting of gravel on her scraped skin and the ache of a lost opportunity. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the already hazy vision of how she would get to Grace Shopping Mall. Her legs, usually strong and dependable, felt like lead weights.
When Chioma lifted her eyes, she was shocked by the sight of the breathtaking Bugatti Chiron. She had only read about this sports car in magazines and doubted that anyone would spend 3 million dollars just to own it. The car was truly magnificent, beyond what an ordinary person could afford. But deep down, she didn't care about the car itself; she wished the person that had knocked her down was that man of yesterday. She didn't care about his car but about him. She wanted her life to be a kind of movie for a moment. She longed to see him, even if it was just a glimpse. The thought of him momentarily taking away her pain gave her a fleeting hope. However, she quickly dismissed the idea, acknowledging that a busy man like him wouldn't likely be seen in this area unless he had something important to do.
She shifted her attention to her bruised knee and the torn corner of her dress caused by the collision. Her mother had bought that dress with the hope that it would make her look presentable during her job hunt and interview, but now it was ruined. She suppressed her pain, knowing that she had to support her mother and brother and desperately needed a higher-paying job. Fate, however, seemed to have other plans for her. Was it really possible to find a hero who would sweep her off her feet and tend to her wounds, just like in romance movies? The thought lingered in her mind.
Just then, the door of the Bugatti swung open, revealing a pair of expensive high-end leather shoes that gracefully touched the ground as Michael stepped out of the car. He nonchalantly closed the door behind him.
Although Chioma's beauty was not strikingly breathtaking, she possessed an enchanting aura that captivated those around her. Michael paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her deeply. There was something about this girl that stirred his heart. He felt like he had seen her before, but with her head hanging down, he couldn't see her face clearly. Yet, he wished she were the girl he had encountered yesterday. He yearned to reach out and embrace her. But what if she wasn't the same person? And if she turned out to be the girl he expected, would she despise him for knocking her down? Contemplating these thoughts, he approached her and gracefully squatted down in front of her.
With a cold expression, he examined the bruise on her knee. Chioma caught a familiar scent in the air, a subtle whiff of Chanel perfume. It was refreshing, reminding her of the man she had met yesterday. Didn't that cold and handsome man also exude the same fragrance?
At that moment, Chioma raised her head, and a mixture of shock and pleasure washed over her as she laid eyes on the stunning man squatting before her. He wore a tailor-made suit crafted by a Milanese designer, exuding timeless style. They locked eyes, seemingly forgetting to breathe in that intense moment.
As their gazes locked, words eluded them. Michael coughed softly, trying to gather his courage, then his eyes fell upon one of her slender legs smeared with blood. He longed to wipe away the trickling blood along the delicate curves of her leg but hesitated, fearing her reaction. He didn't want her to be angry or misunderstand his intentions.
'This... um... you... we...' Michael stammered, feeling at a loss. He had always believed himself to be a king, capable of controlling any situation. Yet, in this moment, facing this woman, he found himself speechless, as if his tongue had abandoned him. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to clean her wounds and take her to the hospital, but instead, he retrieved his exquisite brown Prada wallet and withdrew a generous sum of money, pressing it into her hands.
Michael believed that money could solve most problems, but he also sensed that this woman was special and deserving of his care. Even though he initially intended to resolve the incident quickly and proceed to Paradise Hotel for his meeting with the CEO of George Enterprise, who would be signing a contract with Moon Corporation, he found himself wanting to spend a few moments with her.
Tears welled in Chioma's eyes, a mix of frustration and hurt pooling within. She longed for a comforting embrace, not money. She desired his gentle touch on her face, not his intense gaze. Destiny had granted her the chance to meet him again, yet she felt hopeless. She observed his slender and well-groomed fingers, noticing the dazzling diamond ring adorning his ring finger, a symbol of his noble status. Was he married? She wondered, stealing a glance at him. She yearned to enquire about his marital status. If he was indeed married, did that mean she would never have a chance with him? The realisation of his noble status made her feel inadequate. She came from an ordinary background, and why should she dream of marrying such a high-class man? Was she even worthy of entertaining such thoughts? The stark contrast between their family backgrounds became painfully apparent to Chioma, and she felt it best to let go of her aspirations.
She stared at the money in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably.
Michael couldn't understand her silence. Did the money fall short of her expectations? Was she being greedy? Or perhaps, he misinterpreted her silence entirely. With that thought, he emptied his wallet, rolled the money into a bundle, and gently placed it in her chest.
Chioma didn't know how to react. She felt her pride had been wounded by his actions, as his cold fingertips grazed her skin. How dare he humiliate her in such a manner! Although she had enjoyed the intimacy she felt when his fingertips brushed against her, she refused to allow him to treat her this way. Maybe both of them had misunderstood each other. She looked at the smirk on his face, sensing his discontent.
'Fortunately, your injury wasn't severe. But since you seem to value money so much, I'll give you more,' he paused, unsure if his words had offended her. He retrieved another brown Prada wallet and emptied its contents, thrusting the money into her hands. 'I don't have much time. Perhaps this will suffice?'
Hearing the sarcasm in his voice, Chioma's anger surged and overflowed. 'What's the meaning of this?' she demanded.
Michael's brow twitched as he retorted, 'Want some more?'
Without waiting for her response, he lowered his head and extracted the last of the cash from the third wallet, offering it to her. 'I don't usually carry a lot of cash with me, so these wallets only contained 50,000 naira. I hope this small amount will be enough to take care of your wounds.' He glanced at his luxury wristwatch. 'I have to leave.' He made a move to go, but Chioma's words halted him in his tracks.
'Enough?' Chioma scoffed.
'Not enough?' Michael furrowed his brow, glancing at her askance. Did this woman have insatiable greed? He smirked, his thin lips curving into a smug expression. 'Perhaps you want more?'
'Aren't you the president of the Central Bank of Nigeria? So yes, I want more,' she scoffed, lifting her face slightly and focusing on his flawless features. All she desired was to gaze upon his impeccable face, but her words came off as rude, and she feared he would despise her. She had read in countless romance novels that successful marriages required compatibility in family backgrounds or love between the individuals involved. She seemed to have neither. So, to protect her heart from pain, she believed it was best to suppress her feelings for him from the outset. Could she accomplish that? She would try, but for how long? How long could she persuade her heart not to love him? Did he perceive her feelings for him? Or perhaps, was his heart frozen and impervious to her influence? Was he truly married, or was the ring merely an accessory? Or perhaps it served as a deterrent to keep women at bay? Chioma couldn't help but entertain these wild thoughts.
Michael smiled; it appeared he wasn't angered by Chioma's words. Clearly, he viewed her as an articulate and beautiful young woman. Without uttering a word, he withdrew a card from his wallet. On top of the elegantly printed card was an address: Danube Street, located off Ibrahim Babangida Way. Flipping the card, he wrote his personal phone number on the back. 'If it's not enough, then call this number or visit that address. You'll find me. I have a meeting,' he said, turning to leave.
However, this only further ignited Chioma's anger. She found his actions humiliating and infuriating. 'Sir, what do you take me for? How could you treat me this way? Why would you throw money at me as if I were a dog? Do you think I was born in the Year of the Dog? Is this how wealthy people treat the poor? I expected an apology, not a show-off. I know you're a prince from a noble family with all the wealth in the world!' She shook her head. 'But not everything can be bought with money,' she admonished, tears welling in her eyes.
A gentle smile curved the corners of his mouth. He turned around and spoke, 'Whose fault was it? Yours. What were you thinking, crossing the road without being mindful of your surroundings? I still have to take the blame...?'
Chioma glanced at the stray dog that had caused the commotion, now sitting innocently by the roadside. 'Yes, it was my fault,' she admitted, 'the dog also has to be blamed too, right? But how could you just shove money into my hands like that?' Chioma tossed the money back at him, her voice filled with emotion. Tears streamed down her face. 'All I wanted was a simple apology. Any gentleman would do that. But it seems you're arrogant and domineering.' She glared at him with cold eyes, annoyance radiating from her. Chioma was annoyed by the look of pride on his face. 'A simple sorry is enough,' she said in a small voice.
Michael's eyes followed her gaze to the dog, and his expression softened slightly. 'I see,' he murmured, his tone less harsh. 'But you must understand, I reacted out of concern and tried to solve the problem the way I know how. I'm not used to dealing with situations like this.' He paused, the weight of her words sinking in. 'I'm sorry,' he said finally, meeting her eyes with sincerity.
What was happening to him? When had a woman ever managed to make him apologise when he wasn't at fault? However, this girl seemed different from the others. From the moment he met her yesterday, he had felt she was the most important person in his life. Seeing her now felt like another meeting arranged by destiny. He had never been in a relationship before and was unaware of the rules. He didn't know that the best way to reach a woman he admired was through his heart, not by showering her with money. Money could conquer the world, but it couldn't buy genuine love. No amount of money could purchase true affection.
He was a man in a commanding position, with control over millions of people. Yet, it seemed he had been captivated by this petite young woman. He wanted her to be by his side until the end of his days.
Hearing his apology, Chioma was stunned but remained silent.
'I'm sorry again...' Michael uttered softly.
Chioma blinked her dark eyes and replied, 'Apology accepted.'
'Always watch where you are headed...' His voice was gentle and caring. He genuinely cared for her safety.
Managing to rise to her feet, Chioma turned to him, locked eyes for a moment, and then hurriedly limped away, completely unaware of her Identification Card lying on the ground.
This sight brought a grin to Michael's face. It was as if he had found a precious lost treasure. He bent down, picked up the Identification Card, and gazed at her picture. His heart swelled with love as he observed her radiant eyes, which seemed to contain an abundance of sunshine. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back, framing a face adorned with dimples that radiated warmth and charm. She gave off an aura of gentleness, as if caressed by a gentle breeze.
She is simple, yet lovable, Michael thought, taking out his phone. He dialled his assistant, Robert.
'Robert, I want you to check something for me,' Michael instructed.
'What is it, boss?' Robert asked from the other end of the line.
Michael mentioned the name, 'Chioma Chima,' and proceeded to recount everything that had transpired.
Robert gasped upon hearing the story. 'Maybe I could come and drive you instead?'
Michael didn't reply. He hung up and turned around, making his way to his car. With a determined stride, he drove off, his mind filled with thoughts of Chioma.