Chapter 1 - CAROLINE ORDEAL

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CHAPTER ONE

CAROLINE

The smell of damp carpet and forgotten dreams greeted me the moment I stepped into my room. Home—if I could still call it that.

I dropped my bag on top of my old DVD player and stood there for a moment, staring at the four tired walls that boxed me in. I hated this place. God knows I did.

I had tried to make the room look more welcoming, picking up decorations from the second-hand store down the street, but no matter what I did, it still looked miserable. Tiny red smudges freckled the wall—silent evidence of the battles I fought every night. The walls badly needed a fresh coat of paint, maybe green again, though I doubted even that would save them.

My once flowery blue carpet had lost its charm, worn thin in almost every corner. The door no longer locked properly; the handle dangled loosely as if even it had given up on trying to protect me.

Still, I forced myself to live without fear. There wasn't room for fear—not when survival itself took all my strength.

I had once carpeted the floor, hung a curtain to partition the space, and pretended it was my little sanctuary. Now everything looked faded, tired, and cheap.

I sighed, wondering why nothing seemed to last—especially things that came from fairly used stores.

In one corner sat my old TV stand, a DVD player balancing on a stool beside it, with my small pile of CDs stacked neatly on top. On the opposite side, my electric stove and a few battered cooking utensils marked my "kitchen."

These were all I had left after Daniel stripped my life bare.

When my rent expired and I couldn't renew it, I sold nearly everything I owned just to afford this single room. My once comfortable life had vanished, and Daniel was to blame.

I undressed slowly, hanging my clothes on the wall beside my worn-out bags. My shoes huddled in one corner like defeated soldiers—once-expensive pairs that now looked like rags. They had survived gracefully in my old air-conditioned apartment, but here, in the heat and dust, they crumbled like everything else in my life.

That was my fate now.

God, how I longed for the day I could rebuild—literally. I wanted to do my carpentry again, to lift my things off the floor and feel like I was building something real. Maybe that day would come… if I got my old job back.

The bank had let me go months ago. The manager promised to call me when there was a new opening, but deep down, I knew that call wasn't coming. My aunt, Aunty Bunmi, had pulled some strings to get me this current job at a flower shop—as a production manager. A big title for such little pay.

I tried to be grateful, but some days it was hard.

I sighed again and began to tidy up, rearranging my things just to feel in control. My shoes, my bags, my memories. I knew I should throw some of them away, but I couldn't. I'd paid too much for them, and somehow, holding on made me feel less… lost.

Work today had been rough.

I'd managed to sell a flower arrangement that should have gone straight into the trash. The red roses were wilting, the white lilies ready to die. Only the million-stones and fillers had given it any life. I was shocked anyone bought it.

I wouldn't be surprised if the flowers were dead by tomorrow—and the customer with them.

It wasn't even my fault. Regina, the florist, had forgotten to close the cold room properly again. I'd left her to finish the next day's orders, and when I returned this morning, the flowers were already halfway gone.

I'd almost lost my job because of it.

"I need to talk to Regina," I muttered under my breath, rubbing my forehead. "Before I lose this job for real."

Aunty Bunmi would be disappointed if I messed this up. She'd gone through too much trouble to get me the position. And as much as I hated my situation, I knew it was better than the streets—where Daniel had meant for me to end up.

Daniel.

Even thinking his name made my blood boil.

If there was one person I could kill and sleep peacefully afterward, it would be him.

I still couldn't believe how stupid I'd been—handing my life savings to a man who promised forever. He said it was for our business, something that would change both our lives.

He proposed, threw me a grand engagement party, slipped a gorgeous ring on my finger, and made me believe every word he said.

I told him we could start the business after the wedding, but he convinced me it was smarter to start before—because we'd spend too much on the celebration. And of course, I saw reason. I always threw big parties, and my wedding was supposed to be the event of the year.

He promised to handle all the wedding expenses. All I had to do was invest my eight million naira—my entire savings—into our business. He claimed he'd contribute ten.

I believed him.

God help me, I believed every lie.

It was all a scam. A perfect, beautiful lie designed to strip me bare.

Now, as I stared at the faded walls of this suffocating room, I realized Daniel hadn't just stolen my money. He'd stolen something far deeper.

My trust. My pride. My peace.

But one day—

He would remember my name.