My mother used to say life wasn't fair, but it was still mine to fight for.
I didn't understand what she meant until I found myself dragging a nylon handbag through muddy streets in Ojuelegba, praying for a miracle while dodging okadas and disappointment.
For two years after secondary school, I worked any job I could find—cleaning shops, hawking fruit, and washing clothes for neighbors who barely paid. I once took care of an elderly woman for three weeks straight, only for her son to disappear without paying a single naira.
I was tired. My back ached more than it should for a twentyone year old. My mum's blood pressure was getting worse. The doctor said she need to be taking her medications, good food and rest. But how can one rest in a one room apartment with leaking ceilings and hunger scratching at the door?
The day I got the job at the Obianyo mansion was the day I almost gave up.
I was sitting at the bus stop, sweaty and hopeless, when Auntie Risi, a former neighbor, spotted me. She looked different fine clothes, neat nails, perfume I couldn't name, i barely recognized her. She hugged me, then stepped back like she didn't want to dirty her outfit.
"You still looking for work?" she asked, frowning.
I nodded.
She hesitated. There is a place in Lekki. Big house. Billionaire family. They need a new maid quickly. But the rules are tight.
I didn't care about rules. I cared about rent and the box of unfilled prescriptions from the doctor under my mother's bed.
"When can I start?"
She looked me over. You are too soft for that house, Tomi. If you mess up, they will throw you out like nylon.
I will manage, I told her.
That night, I borrowed my cousin's one decent dress and waved my hair myself. I barely slept, half expecting the offer to vanish by morning.
The mansion was nothing like I'd ever seen.
It didn't look like a house it looked like a small hotel. White walls, glass windows as tall as palm trees, and a silent security man who eyed me like I had stolen something already.
Inside smelled like foreign polish and air freshener with names I can not pronounce, lots of people in uniforms walking up and down, wall frames and expensive art hanging on the walls, the mansion was a beauty to behold, one I never expected I could ever enter in my life.
The housekeeper, Madam Nneka, gave me a sharp glance. You are the one Risi sent?"
"Yes, ma."
She sighed. You're late she said,
I bowed my head. "Sorry, ma."
No excuses here. You will be assigned to the second floor. That's Mr. Chinedu's wing.
I nodded, even though my heart skipped.
I have heard whispers about him Chinedu Obianyo. The last son of the Obianyo empire. Billionaire tech investor, brutally private, and according to some, cursed with anger and money.
They said he was cold.
They said he don't smile.
They said he don't tolerate mistakes.
I didn't plan to meet him, all I wanted was just to clean the marble floors and keep my head down. But fate, as always, had its own ideas.
It happened late in the evening.
I had just finished folding shirts in his closet, shirts that cost more than my entire wardrobe, when I turned to grab the vacuum cleaner and I freeze not because of the air conditioner but because of a figure watching me.
He was standing by the door, watching me.
Tall. Dark. Quiet. Wearing a white shirt with the top buttons undone and a look in his eyes like he could see through walls.
He didn't say anything for a moment.
I panicked.Good evening, sir.
His voice was like steel. Did anyone tell you to be in here?
I froze. I… I was told to clean, sir.
He stepped in, slow and controlled, like he hated wasting energy. From now on, you don't enter this room unless I say so.
"Yes, sir."
He looked at me again longer this time.
Then turned and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
I stood there, heart racing. The air felt heavier, like something had changed and I didn't know how to name it.
I told myself I'd forget the way he looked at me.
But I couldn't.
Because that was the beginning of everything.