CHAPTER FOUR: THE FIRST OFFER
Morning sunlight crept through the blinds, painting the room in pale gold. Zainab woke with a start, unsure for a moment where she was. The soft bed, the hum of the air conditioner, the faint scent of expensive perfume—it all felt like someone else's life.
Tomiwa was already awake, sitting on the couch in a silk robe, scrolling through her phone.
"Good morning," Zainab said, her voice groggy.
Tomiwa didn't look up. "Chief called," she said casually. "He asked about you."
Zainab's heart skipped. "Me? Why?"
Tomiwa smiled faintly. "Because he liked you. He's hosting a private dinner tomorrow night in Ikoyi. He wants you to come."
Zainab frowned. "But… why me? I didn't even talk much."
"That's exactly why," Tomiwa said, finally meeting her eyes. "You're quiet, innocent—men like Chief pay a lot for that kind of energy."
Zainab shook her head. "I don't understand. You said he could help me find work—"
"Zee," Tomiwa interrupted softly, "wake up. This is the work."
The room went silent. Zainab stared at her, disbelief flooding her chest. "You mean… you want me to—?"
Tomiwa sighed, setting her phone aside. "I'm not forcing you. But be realistic. How else will you survive here? How else will you pay your mother's bills? Chief isn't a bad man. He just… likes company. You go, you sit pretty, he spoils you. Simple."
Zainab stood up, pacing. Her pulse thundered in her ears. "Tomiwa, this isn't me. I can't—"
"Then don't," Tomiwa snapped, suddenly sharp. "Stay broke. Go back to Ijebu and wait for miracles."
Zainab froze. The words hit harder than a slap. For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Tomiwa's tone softened again. "Zee, listen. I brought you here because I care. You're like a sister to me. I just want you to live better. What's one night compared to a lifetime of struggle?"
Zainab turned away, tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to scream that it wasn't worth it, that she would rather sell oranges forever than sell herself. But then she thought of Mama's weak hands, her brother's worn shoes, the hospital bills she couldn't pay.
Her chest ached with shame.
Later that afternoon, she walked out alone, down to the lagoon near the apartment. The water shimmered under the sun, but it smelled of salt and decay. She sat on the edge, watching boats drift by, and whispered a prayer under her breath.
"God, show me what to do."
The wind answered with silence.
That night, Tomiwa came into her room holding a small envelope. "Chief sent this," she said. "Even if you don't go, he said you should have it."
Zainab hesitated before opening it. Inside was a thick bundle of cash—more money than she had ever held in her life.
Her fingers trembled. The weight of it felt like a curse.
"See?" Tomiwa said softly. "He's generous. Imagine what he'd do if you actually showed up."
When Tomiwa left, Zainab sat there staring at the money. She thought of all the things it could fix: medicine for Mama, school fees, food for her siblings. But she also thought of the price behind it.
She didn't sleep that night. When dawn came, she was still sitting there, the envelope unopened beside her.
By morning, she had made her choice.