Chapter One: The Interview
The rain had stopped, but Lagos still wore its chaos like a second skin.
Lara Adedayo stood outside the glass tower of Okoye Group Headquarters, clutching her bag like a life vest. Her heels—borrowed and too tight—sank slightly into the pavement as she stared up at the building that seemed to pierce the sky.
She wasn't supposed to be here.
Just yesterday, she had been cleaning shelves at her cousin's mini-mart in Yaba, wondering how long her body could survive on biscuits and bottled water. And now—by some miracle or mix-up—she'd been invited to interview as a personal assistant for one of the most powerful CEOs in Africa.
Daniel Chuka Okoye.
Twenty-eight. Billionaire. Founder of five tech companies. Known across tabloids as "Africa's Smiling Shark."
And today, she was walking into his building.
She inhaled sharply and entered.
---
The lobby was too quiet for how wide it was, like wealth had muted the world. Marble floors. Security men who didn't smile. A receptionist who looked like she came off a runway.
"Good morning," Lara said, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. "I'm here for the interview—Lara Adedayo."
The receptionist looked her over quickly, like a scanner. "Fifth floor. You're the last one."
The last one?
She hadn't realized she was late.
"Thank you," Lara whispered, already rushing to the elevator. Her stomach twisted.
The fifth floor looked like an art gallery. White and gold walls, polished everything. A row of young women—at least ten of them—sat across sleek chairs, dressed in power suits and expensive wigs. Lara looked down at her faded blouse and quietly sighed.
A woman in a navy suit stood with a tablet, calling names.
"Chinaza Ikenna."
One of the women stood and followed her inside.
Lara sat at the end of the row, feeling invisible.
---
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
Each girl went in with a confident strut. Each one returned looking shaken.
When her name was finally called, Lara's legs almost didn't work. But she forced herself to walk—gracefully, if not confidently.
The door shut behind her with a soft click.
And then she saw him.
Daniel Okoye was sitting at the far end of a wide office, behind a glass desk, sunlight pouring through the windows behind him. He wore a dark shirt rolled at the sleeves, no tie, and his watch alone looked like it cost more than her family's entire street.
He looked up from a file.
Their eyes met.
And for a moment, time bent.
His expression didn't change, but something in the room shifted. Lara felt it.
Then he smiled.
It wasn't the smile she had seen in the newspapers. This one wasn't for cameras. It was soft, curious.
"Lara Adedayo," he said. His voice was smooth. "Sit."
She sat, unsure whether to cross her legs or fold her hands. She settled for both.
"You studied mass communication," he said, scanning her CV. "University of Ibadan."
"Yes, sir," she said. "But I didn't finish."
"Why?"
"My father died during my third year. I dropped out to work and support my younger brother."
He didn't nod or blink. Just stared.
"Where are you working now?"
"A mini-mart. I manage the inventory."
"Have you worked in an office before?"
"No," she admitted, "but I'm a fast learner, and I'm very observant. I'm used to managing people, tracking stock, balancing accounts—"
"I don't need a cashier, Miss Adedayo."
She fell silent.
Daniel leaned back in his chair, eyes unreadable. Then he said something strange.
"Do you trust people easily?"
Lara blinked. "No."
"Good. Neither do I."
He stood. "Follow me."
---
He led her down a hallway into a smaller, more private office. Books lined the walls. A glass of whisky sat untouched on a table near the window.
Daniel shut the door behind them.
Lara's pulse quickened.
"I'm not looking for just a secretary," he said. "This position comes with access to my personal schedule, my emails, even my travel plans. You'll know things before the board of directors do."
She said nothing. Her throat felt tight.
He walked closer. Stopped just a foot away. "This job is not for someone soft. If you're hired, you'll see things—hear things—you can't repeat."
Lara met his eyes. "Are you asking if I can keep secrets?"
"No," he said. "I'm asking if you can survive them."
---
The silence stretched.
And then—he smiled again.
Not charming this time. Dangerous.
"You start Monday."
Lara blinked. "What?"
"I've made my decision. The rest were too polished. Too ambitious. I don't trust ambitious women."
Her mouth went dry.
"But you," he said, eyes narrowing slightly, "you've got fear in your eyes, but no greed. That's rare."
Lara could barely breathe. "So… I got the job?"
"You got the job," he said. Then he walked back to the desk and added, "You also just walked into a world you're not ready for."
---
Outside the office, the hall felt brighter, louder. But something about her had already changed.
The other girls stared as she walked past. She didn't look at them.
The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "Did you… get the job?"
Lara only nodded.
---
In the elevator, she clutched the offer letter in her hands, heartbeat racing.
A billionaire with secrets.
A job that smelled like power.
A man whose smile didn't match his eyes.
She should have felt victorious.
Instead, she felt like she'd just signed a deal with the devil.