Chapter 4: The Ex

The woman’s perfume hit Chioma before she even spoke — sharp, expensive, and overwhelming in the confined space of the penthouse.

“Wife?” The woman let out a laugh that wasn’t amused. It was cold and sharp like broken glass. “Emeka, what kind of joke is this?”

Emeka’s arm tightened around Chioma’s shoulders, pulling her closer. “It’s not a joke, Titi. This is Chioma Adeyemi. My wife.”

Titi. Chioma recognized the name instantly. Titi Balogun — Emeka’s rumored fiancée from last year. The daughter of one of Nigeria’s richest oil magnates. Her face was on every society magazine in Lagos.

Titi stepped forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She looked Chioma up and down, her eyes lingering on the blue Ankara dress and the simple headscarf. Her expression made it clear what she thought.

“This?” Titi gestured at Chioma like she was dirt on her shoe. “This market woman from Balogun is your wife? Emeka, have you lost your mind?”

Chioma’s cheeks burned. She wanted to shrink away, to disappear into the floor, but Emeka’s steady presence beside her kept her standing tall.

“Watch how you speak to my wife,” Emeka said, his voice turning icy. The warmth was completely gone now.

Titi’s eyes flashed with anger. “Your wife? For how long? A week? A month? You think I don’t know your games, Emeka? You bring home some random girl to make your grandfather happy, then you throw her away when you’re done.”

“That’s enough,” Emeka cut in. “Chioma is my wife legally and publicly. Respect her.”

Chioma finally found her voice. “I don’t need anyone to respect me, Mr. Okonkwo.” She turned to Titi, lifting her chin despite how her hands were shaking. “And I’m not here to take anything from you. This is business.”

Titi’s lips curled into a smirk. “Business? Is that what you call it now?” She moved closer to Chioma, invading her personal space. “Let me give you some advice, little girl. Emeka Okonkwo doesn’t keep his promises. He uses people and he discards them. Six months from now, he’ll leave you with nothing but a broken heart and a signature on a divorce paper.”

Chioma felt the sting of Titi’s words, but she didn’t look away. “I don’t expect anything from him. Not love, not promises. Just what’s written in that contract.”

Titi’s smirk faltered for half a second before she recovered. “Contract? So you signed it already? You’re that desperate for his money?”

“That’s enough, Titi,” Emeka said sharply. He stepped between the two women, putting his body between them. “Leave. Now.”

Titi stared at Emeka for a long moment, searching his face for something. When she didn’t find it, she let out a bitter laugh. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face, Emeka. I warned you.”

She turned and walked toward the elevator, her designer bag swinging at her side. Before the doors closed, she looked back at Chioma one last time. “Enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame, Mrs. Okonkwo. It won’t last.”

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft ding, leaving silence in their wake.

Chioma let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her knees felt weak and she had to grip Emeka’s arm to steady herself.

“Are you alright?” Emeka asked, his voice softer now that Titi was gone.

Chioma pulled away from his grip. “Don’t touch me. I don’t need your protection.”

Emeka studied her for a moment before nodding. “Fair enough.” He walked to the bar and poured himself a glass of water. “Titi and I dated for two years. Her father and mine arranged it when we were teenagers.”

“So she thinks she owns you,” Chioma said.

“No,” Emeka said. “She thinks she owns Okonkwo Holdings. And she can’t stand that I married someone she considers beneath her.”

Chioma walked to the window and looked out at Lagos below. The city lights sparkled like diamonds against the night sky. From up here, everything looked beautiful and perfect. But she knew better.

“Tomorrow the press will announce our engagement,” Emeka said from behind her. “Are you ready for that?”

Chioma turned around. “No. But I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Emeka’s expression softened slightly. “You always have a choice, Chioma. You can walk out that door right now and the contract becomes void. No money, no marriage.”

Chioma looked at the black folder on the table where their signed contract lay. Then she looked at Emeka — this cold, powerful billionaire who held her mother’s life and her future in his hands.

She thought of her mother’s weak smile in the hospital. She thought of the landlord’s threat. She thought of her empty shop.

“No,” Chioma said quietly. “I don’t have a choice.”

Emeka nodded slowly. “Good. Because from tomorrow, the whole of Lagos will be watching us. And we need to look convincing.”

Chioma picked up her bag. “What does that mean exactly?”

“It means you’ll need to learn how to act like Mrs. Okonkwo,” Emeka said. “How to walk, how to talk, how to sit at dinner parties. My assistant will arrange everything — clothes, etiquette lessons, everything.”

Chioma felt a wave of humiliation wash over her. “You think I don’t know how to behave?”

“I think you know how to survive,” Emeka said honestly. “But this is a different world, Chioma. One mistake in front of the wrong person and the whole thing collapses. Two thousand jobs depend on this.”

Chioma swallowed hard. The weight of it all was crushing her. Two thousand families depending on a fake marriage between a broke shop owner and a billionaire.

“I’ll do what I have to do,” Chioma said. “For my mother.”

Emeka’s eyes flickered with something Chioma couldn’t quite name — respect, maybe. Or surprise.

“I’ll have my driver take you home,” Emeka said. “We’ll start the training tomorrow at 9am.”

Chioma walked to the elevator, not looking back. As the doors closed behind her, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

What have I just gotten myself into? she thought.

The elevator descended rapidly, and Chioma felt like she was falling along with it.

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