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Chapter 30
In fluent English, the manager explained to Alim that Amana only came in for her shifts in the evening and was currently at home.
"Give me her address if you know it," Alim demanded. Without hesitation, the manager handed over Amana’s address to Alim.
They immediately turned their convoy around and drove straight to Dan Uzuri’s compound. Alim was thoroughly shocked by how dilapidated and run-down the building was. How can a girl who dresses so sharply live in a dump like this? he wondered.
Looking around, he realized the entire neighborhood was a notorious haven for thugs, criminals, and prostitutes. In fact, Amana's specific street was on a whole different level of notoriety—you had to be an absolute expert in street madness just to survive living there.
Alim shook his head in disbelief, thinking to himself, No wonder that girl is the absolute limit when it comes to being disrespectful and insolent. With an upbringing in a place like this, Amana could never turn out to be a decent woman.
Just then, Dan Uzuri noticed the luxury vehicles and rushed over to Alim’s car in a state of utter panic. One of the security guards rolled down his window and described the girl they were looking for.
Dan Uzuri quickly piped up, "Oh, Amana? You won't find her at home right now. She’s at their usual street hangout spot."
As they were speaking, Amana suddenly emerged from a nearby alleyway, strolling alongside three young men, chatting and laughing freely.
Watching her through his rearview mirror, Alim muttered to himself, Unbelievable. This girl is truly notorious on these streets.
In the blink of an eye, Dan Uzuri scurried over to Amana, frantically pointing toward Alim’s fleet of cars—displaying models and luxury brands she had never even seen before in her life.
With his voice trembling, Dan Uzuri hissed, "I swear to God, Amana, I have absolutely nothing to do with this! If you’ve gone and crossed the wrong wealthy people, don't you dare bring that calamity upon my head. I always knew your extreme lack of respect would eventually lead you to your doom. Look at them over there, they are strictly here for you! Rich elites like that don't just wander into a slum unless they're hunting someone down."
Amana stared at the security guards and instantly recognized "The Handsome One" (Me Kyau). She was initially puzzled as to how he had discovered where she lived, but then she remembered her manager. Of course, she thought, the manager must have given them my address. Aloud, she muttered, "Well, what on earth did I even do to them? Hmm... let me go over and find out."
Dan Uzuri quickly backed away, snapping, "Whatever it is, that's your business! Just don't dare tell them you know me. If they liquidate you out here, I'll just call your village and let them know. You useless girl, always attracting nothing but trouble. I am far above your misfortunes—by the grace of Surah Al-Quraysh, you will not bring ruin to my life! May the verses of Laqad ja'akum protect me from your bad luck!"
With that, Dan Uzuri ducked into a dark alleyway, hiding himself while peeking out to watch the drama unfold. In his mind, he was already certain that Amana was going to jail, and he was fully prepared to call Sulemanu Harka to inform him that Amana would grow old behind bars.
One of the guards stepped forward and opened the car door for her. Completely fearless, Amana stepped inside and took a seat. Having never been raised with basic manners, she didn't bother greeting him formally—as she never even greeted her own parents. Instead, she simply muttered a brief "Assalamu Alaikum" and sat back.
Instantly, the car's freezing air conditioning and a remarkably luxurious fragrance washed over her. She closed her eyes, basking in the sheer comfort. In that moment, her heart began to race violently. The powerful, commanding aura of the handsome master completely overwhelmed her soul.
She couldn't comprehend why this man possessed such an intense, terrifying grip over her, to the point where she felt an overwhelming sense of fear in his presence. When the silence stretched on for several minutes without him saying a single word, she carefully lifted her head to steal a glance at him.
Subhanallah, she thought, her breath catching. He looked devastatingly handsome—far beyond anything human imagination could conjure. He was dressed in a remarkably expensive, crisp milk-colored Shadda fabric, tailored into a sharp, perfectly fitted pencil-cut design that complemented his broad frame. He wasn't wearing a traditional cap, leaving his thick, jet-black, neatly groomed hair completely exposed. His face was framed by a perfectly trimmed, sharp mustache and a meticulously shaped stubble beard.
Slowly, with an air of immense pride, arrogance, and aristocratic poise, he continued to scroll through his phone without sparing her a single glance. He quietly commanded the guard to bring Aabid from the other vehicle.
Within seconds, the security details escorted the little boy over. The moment Amana’s eyes locked with Aabid, the toddler let out a loud, ecstatic shriek of pure joy at seeing his "New Auntie." He broke into a joyful run and threw his entire body against Amana, clinging to her excitedly.
"New Auntie! I'm coming with you!" he cheered.
"Alright, my sweet boy. I missed you," Amana said softly, holding him close.
"Mic (miss) you too!" Aabid mimicked happily.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alim watched the two of them interact, feeling a deep, quiet sense of satisfaction in his heart. Seeing his beloved Aabid this happy made everything worth it.
In a low, calm voice, Alim finally spoke: "Take him with you for now. Tonight, after the Isha prayer, I will return to pick him up."
Amana nodded, responding naturally, "Okay, Baàbaà..." Before she could finish, she caught herself and quickly added, "Oh, sorry, please."
She lifted Aabid, expertly hoisting him onto her shoulder. Aabid waved excitedly, yelling, "Bye, Daddy!" Alim raised his hand in a silent farewell as the convoy smoothly pulled away into traffic. They left Amana standing on the street corner, completely bewildered that a total stranger would simply hand over his child to her custody without a second thought.
Dan Uzuri slowly crept out from his hiding spot, his mouth agape with bewilderment. He couldn't understand how on earth a tomboy like Amana had managed to connect with such incredibly wealthy elites, to the point where they trusted her to babysit their child.
Chapter 35
Dan Uzuri muttered aloud to himself, "Even though I was born and raised right here in Lagos, I have never managed to make friends with anyone who even owns a car. Yet this girl, who dresses and behaves exactly like a man, has a whole convoy of luxury vehicles at her beck and call. Well, I suppose she's still a woman after all; men are probably just lined up to taste her honey, so it makes sense."
He began walking toward Amana, but she turned and flashed him such a lethal, venomous glare that he immediately retreated, muttering under his breath, "Whatever, girl. This is Lagos, life is a gamble. Enjoy your street life now, but it will consume you one day. I’m just warning you, don't you dare bring disgrace to our household, you hear?"
Ignoring him entirely, Amana took Aabid by the hand, and they headed out to explore the city. They spent hours playing and walking through various neighborhoods. Everywhere they went, passersby couldn't stop staring at Aabid, completely captivated by his striking, fair skin, noting that he looked like a beautiful foreign child.
Eventually, they returned to her room, where she cooked a warm meal for them. After eating and drinking, they both fell into a deep, peaceful nap. When they woke up later that afternoon, she took him out to a high-end children's boutique. She picked out a trendy outfit for Aabid—a white sleeveless tank top paired with black three-quarter denim jeans. She tried it on him right there in the shop, and it fit perfectly. She also bought him an assortment of sweets, chocolates, and biscuits.
Noticing his hair was untidy, she took him straight to a professional barbershop. She instructed the barber to give him a sharp, highly fashionable modern haircut fit for stylish young elites. By the time the barber was finished, the little boy looked exceptionally sharp and strikingly handsome.
Returning home, she removed his old clothes, scrubbed them completely clean, and hung them out to dry. They ate another meal, and then she gave him a thorough bath before taking a shower herself.
She gently applied Vaseline to his arms and legs. Then, using her own premium hair cream, she meticulously styled his fresh haircut until it looked perfect. She sprayed a sweet-smelling perfume over his brand-new boutique clothes and dressed him. He looked absolutely magnificent.
Next, Amana got dressed herself. She pulled on a tight pair of red pencil jeans and wore a thin, white, knee-length T-shirt over it. She applied a heavy layer of her favorite fragrances and wrapped a thin red shawl around her head in her signature, stylish masculine turban-wrap (Acuci Maza). The two of them looked incredibly coordinated and radiant, filling the small room with a beautiful scent.
Sitting him down on her floor mat, she began teaching him verses from the Holy Qur'an. Amana had a deep-seated desire to ensure children received a proper Islamic upbringing. Thanks to her patient guidance, the intelligent little boy quickly memorized Surah Al-Ikhlas. They continued playing together happily until the Maghrib call to prayer sounded, after which they performed their prayers and recitations (Azkar).
Once his washed clothes were completely dry, she retrieved them from the line, folded them neatly, and placed them into a beautiful gift bag. After observing the Isha prayer, she sprayed another burst of perfume on both of them, causing Aabid to burst into giggles, playfully teasing her.
Aabid kept excitedly reciting the Quranic verses Amana had taught him, immensely proud of his new knowledge. While they were laughing, Dan Uzuri suddenly burst into the room, his entire body trembling with anxiety.
"Hurry up! Take the rich people’s child back out to them!" he stammered. "His father is waiting outside and said you should come out right now!"
Amana sucked her teeth in annoyance, rolling her eyes aggressively at Dan Uzuri. She turned to Aabid, who immediately whined, "New Auntie, please carry me on your back!"
She expertly wrapped him onto her back, picked up the two bags in her hands, and marched out of the compound.
Looking out toward the street, she expected to see the usual convoy, but instead, she spotted a single, breathtaking vehicle. It was a brand-new, ultra-luxury car that looked like it cost well over 30 million Naira. The headlights flashed as he tapped the horn, signaling his location.
She walked over to the vehicle. Aabid was grinning from ear to ear, loudly chanting his newly memorized Quranic verses.
Amana opened the rear door and placed the gift bags onto the back seat. She then opened the front passenger door and carefully seated Aabid, who was still enthusiastically reciting his Surah. Gently stroking his hair, Amana pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. "Good night, my boy," she whispered.
The little boy smiled brightly, pleading, "Auntie, I want to sleep at your house! Please come back to our house with us!"
"I'll come visit you soon, boy. Don't worry, okay?" she promised, patting his shoulder. He gave a reluctant nod, visibly disappointed because he desperately wanted her to come along so they could sleep in the same house.
Alim, who was sitting in the driver's seat, remained completely motionless, silently observing the beautiful bond between his son and Auntie Amana. Hearing the holy verses seamlessly flowing from his toddler's mouth left him deeply moved. He noticed how immaculately neat, clean, and sharply dressed his son was in his new boutique clothes and fresh haircut.
Amana shifted her gaze toward Alim. He was dressed casually yet elegantly in three-quarter shorts and a fitted black T-shirt, looking exceptionally handsome. A beautiful, soul-stirring melody was playing softly from the car’s premium sound system.
Placing both hands deep into her pockets, Amana looked at the boy. "Bye, Aabid," she said.
"Bye!" the boy chimed back.
Without uttering a single word to Alim, she turned on her heel and walked away with her trademark arrogant bounce. Alim remained equally silent, watching her go.
He smoothly shifted into gear and drove out of the slum. Amana walked back into the compound, shaking her head in amazement at Alim's bizarre behavior. That man literally never speaks, she mused. Is he actually mute, or is he just so excessively wealthy that he thinks he's too good to talk to ordinary people? Who knows.
Meanwhile, as Alim drove through the city, his mind was racing. He was thoroughly impressed by how remarkably clean and well-groomed Aabid was. But what touched his heart the most was hearing his son recite the Qur'an. To think that a street-smart girl who dresses like a man and seems entirely uneducated actually possesses such a deep knowledge of the Deen, he thought. I assumed she was completely ignorant, but she clearly has a strong foundation in faith.
He fell into deep contemplation regarding her. He resolved that he absolutely had to hire her to take full-time care of his son. Furthermore, he decided that once she was under his roof, he would discipline her and force her to stop her masculine behavior and street mannerisms. With that final thought, Alim’s mind was made up.
Back in her room, Amana lay flat on her floor mat, her mind drifting to her family home in Kano. Memories of her siblings and parents flooded her mind, and a crushing weight of homesickness settled deep in her chest. She desperately wanted to visit her family, but the toxic, degenerate reality of their lifestyle completely killed any desire to return. Hot, bitter tears began to stream down her face as she wallowed in self-pity.
We have living parents, yet we are completely destitute and unprotected, she wept silently. No one cares about our well-being or our future. We were simply brought into this world and left to rot on the streets.
Meanwhile, back at the family house in Kano, Baba Sulemanu Harka still flatly refused to take Maryam to school. Ever since the girl had been entrusted to his care as a sacred trust (Amana), he had intentionally delayed her enrollment, harboring a dark, sinister motive.
Late that night, as he always did, Baba quietly crept into the bedroom of his senior wife, Goggo, where the young girl was sleeping. While they were dead asleep, he slid beneath the covers and began softly stroking and massaging Maryam’s legs. The young girl remained fast asleep, unaware.
Emboldened, he moved further up her body, reaching for her chest, and began improperly touching her breasts, closing his eyes in perverse satisfaction. Grinning wickedly, he began squeezing her. Suddenly, as if waking from a nightmare, Maryam bolted upright and unleashed a piercing, terrified shriek.
Goggo jumped out of bed instantly. She was struck with absolute horror and fury upon seeing her husband actively violating the young girl.
Springing forward, Goggo landed a brutal, echoing slap across his face, screaming, "You disgusting, worthless old bastard! You are an absolute failure! This is your own blood friend's daughter! A child left in your care as a sacred trust, and you are trying to destroy her life? I thoroughly regret the day I ever married you! You miserable, wretched adulterer!"
She burst into loud, hysterical tears. The commotion instantly drew the other co-wives out of their rooms. Having long suspected his perverted nature, they didn't hesitate for a second. They swarmed Sulemanu Harka, unleashing a barrage of fierce insults and curses, while he bitterly hurled insults back at them. Maryam sat in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably, as the house erupted into absolute chaos.
With great effort, Goggo finally managed to soothe the traumatized girl. The very next morning at the crack of dawn, Goggo made Maryam pack her bags. She personally escorted her straight to a secure girls' boarding school, handling all the necessary registration and fees herself to ensure the girl was safe.
When Sulemanu Harka discovered that Maryam had been sent away to boarding school, he lost his mind, unleashing a torrent of profanity, vulgarity, and curses upon Goggo and the rest of his wives.
In another part of the city, Alim’s mother sat rigidly on her luxury sofa, her chest heaving with deep anger. She vowed to herself that Alim would never be allowed to marry anyone of his own choosing; even if it cost her her life, he would strictly marry the woman she selected for him. Realizing she had completely lost her influence over Alim’s father, she resolved to visit her wealthy friend, Hajiya Talatuwa, so they could hatch a scheme to regain control of the situation.
As she sat scheming, an elderly maid timidly approached her to serve a glass of fresh juice. The poor woman was trembling so violently out of sheer terror that her hands shook, causing a few drops of juice to spill onto the pristine floor.
Before the maid could even lift her head to apologize, Alim's mother unleashed a vicious, blinding slap across her face. Before the elderly woman could recover, the mother delivered a brutal kick to her torso, sending the fragile maid crashing violently against the sofa before collapsing heavily onto the floor.
Brushing her clothes off, Alim's mother turned and marched upstairs with loud, arrogant stomps, sucking her teeth repeatedly. "Useless, broke peasants," she muttered in disgust. "Miserable trash."
Chapter 40
Outside, Alim’s luxury convoy rolled into his parents' estate and parked smoothly. The security details rushed to open his door, and he stepped out with his characteristic majestic, slow-paced walk of absolute authority and wealth. He was dressed in an incredibly expensive, pristine white Yadi fabric, tailored into a sharp, fitted design that perfectly complemented his physique. Holding his two premium smartphones, he casually scrolled through them as he walked.
With an air of supreme arrogance, acting as though speaking was beneath him, he quietly voiced his greetings as he entered his father's grand living room. He found his father, Abba, relaxing and eating fresh fruits. Alim lowered himself respectfully to the floor to greet him.
Just then, Alim’s younger sister, Asiya, walked into the room dressed in an incredibly lavish, heavily embroidered maroon Shadda.
"Oh! Big brother Alim! Welcome back!" she cheered.
Alim glanced up at her coldly. "When exactly did you return from Kano?"
"I got back just yesterday," she replied brightly. "Brother, where is my baby Aabid?"
"He’s at school, obviously," Alim replied shortly.
"Brother Alim, Nura called from Finland and said he tried reaching you, but your phone was switched off."
"I'll call him later."
"But Brother Alim—"
"Quiet!" Alim barked, snapping at her. "You're giving me a headache. I despise unnecessary chatter."
Abba sat back, silently listening to their banter, until Alim’s mother swept into the room. She immediately hurled a vicious glare at Alim. "Oh, look at that. I suppose if I hadn't walked in here, you would have just greeted your father and marched right past me, correct?"
"I'm sorry, Mum," Alim replied flatly.
She sucked her teeth aggressively. Abba chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Ah, the Queen of Jealousy. This is your only job in this house—just pure jealousy."
She fell silent for a moment before snapping back, "Of course you would say that, considering your sons clearly show that they love you far more than me." Turning her sharp gaze back to Alim, she demanded, "Where is my grandson?"
Alim offered a rare, polite smile. "He is doing perfectly fine, Mum. He’s currently at school."
The family conversation smoothly shifted toward Nura, who was currently living in Finland. The moment his name was mentioned, the mother’s face twisted into an ugly, bitter scowl. She absolutely despised hearing any news about Nura because he had moved abroad with his wife and consistently showered her with love, completely seeing through his mother's toxic antics. In her mind, Nura's wife had stolen her son away to enjoy his massive wealth, and she bitterly believed Nura no longer cared for her.
Alim watched his mother silently, completely repulsed and baffled by her deeply toxic, malicious behavior. Asiya, too, secretly harbored an intense dislike for their mother's wicked personality.
The following Sunday, Alim got fully dressed and prepared to take Aabid over to Amana’s place, as the little boy had been relentlessly crying and throwing tantrums, begging to see his "New Auntie."
Unbeknownst to them, Amana was currently going through absolute hell. On Saturday evening, a massive, violent confrontation had erupted between her and her manager’s older Igbo brother at the restaurant. The man had inappropriately reached out and rubbed her neck, sending her into a fury.
She had unleashed a torrent of fierce insults at him, which severely enraged the man. In front of a massive crowd of customers, he aggressively lunged forward and grabbed her breasts.
Amana’s street instincts kicked in instantly. She grabbed a heavy wooden lounge chair and violently smashed it over his head. Blood erupted from the man's skull, pouring down his face as he collapsed.
Without pausing to hear the full story, the manager had rushed over and delivered three brutal, echoing slaps across Amana's face, firing her on the spot and throwing her out of the establishment.
It wasn't losing the job that brought Amana to tears; rather, it was the sheer humiliation and trauma of having a man forcefully violate her chest in front of a stadium of onlookers. No man had ever dared to touch her intimately in her entire life.
She had locked herself in her room since Saturday evening, weeping until her strength completely failed her. By Sunday morning, her face was severely swollen, her eyes completely bloodshot and puffy, stripped of all her usual vibrant energy. To make matters worse, a ruthless local thug was aggressively hounding her over a 60,000 Naira debt she owed, and her room rent had officially expired. Dan Uzuri had already made it clear he would show her no mercy. Her food supplies were virtually depleted. She had pinned all her hopes on her restaurant salary to pay off her debts and relocate to a better area, but now, her only source of livelihood was gone.
Wiping her tears, she performed ablution and observed voluntary prayers, desperately begging Allah to grant her a way out of this crushing predicament. Around 11:00 AM, as she sat hopelessly in her room with her head buried in her hands, Dan Uzuri suddenly burst through the door, completely oblivious to her tears.
"Hey! You tomboyish girl!" he shouted frantically. "Get up right now and get outside! That excessively wealthy elite man is waiting outside for you!" With that, he scurried out of the room so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.
Amana quickly washed her face, though her eyes remained painfully swollen and bloodshot, and stepped out into the compound. Instantly, she ran directly into her aggressive creditor, who was casually puffing on a cigarette.
"Hey, girl! What's the deal?" he sneered, blocking her path. "It's been two days. Where is my damn money?"
With a cold, hard expression, Amana replied, "You know very well I am not a thief. I only took that loan because of a severe emergency."
The thug stepped closer, his face darkening. "Listen to me, you little brat, don't you dare roll your eyes at me! You think you can intimidate me? I will thoroughly beat the living daylights out of you right now. I swear to God, if I don't have my money by tomorrow, there will be blood. Get out of my face, you worthless peasant!"
If Amana had been in her usual fierce spirits, a legendary street brawl would have erupted right then and there. But today, her spirit was entirely crushed by sorrow.
Alim sat quietly inside his leading vehicle, his security convoy lined up behind him, watching the entire hostile exchange unfold. It was glaringly obvious to him that Amana was locked in a severe conflict with a dangerous criminal.
As she slowly walked toward his car, he scrutinized her appearance. Her usual aggressive, bouncing swagger was completely gone; she walked with slow, heavy, defeated steps, her face entirely devoid of light. Her eyes were terribly swollen and red. She stopped right beside his window, keeping her head low, nervously spinning her beautiful silver ring.
Before the car door could even be opened, Aabid began squealing with pure excitement, pounding on the window and screaming, "New Auntie!"
With tears dangerously welling up in her eyes, Amana offered a weak wave. Sensing that she was on the verge of breaking down right in front of them, she quickly opened the door, hoisted Aabid into her arms, and immediately turned back toward her room, walking as fast as she could. Alim watched her retreat, now fully convinced that she was suffering through a massive crisis. This was entirely uncharacteristic of the fierce girl he knew.
He signaled his drivers, and the convoy pulled away, heading straight toward his corporate office.
Back in the room, Amana spent the entire day with Aabid, who proved to be a beautiful distraction, temporarily lifting the heavy cloud of sorrow from her heart. Yet, whenever her mind drifted back to her financial ruin, she would fall completely silent, tears threatening to spill over. Her legendary strength had finally failed her. At the end of the day, she was still just a vulnerable young woman who had endured a lifetime of brutal hardship, forced to feed, clothe, and protect herself without a soul to lean on. With no mother, no father, and no guardian to protect her, she had reached her absolute breaking point.
As evening approached, she gave Aabid a bath, dressed him back in the clothes he had arrived in, and applied a fresh layer of fragrance. She prepared some cornflakes, and they ate until they were full. Shortly after the Isha prayer, a neighborhood boy knocked on her door, informing her that someone was waiting for her outside.
She wrapped Aabid securely onto her back and walked out, knowing it had to be his father. Outside, she spotted a single, pitch-black luxury vehicle of immense value. Alim had come entirely alone this time.
She walked up to the driver's side where he sat enveloped in an aura of extreme wealth, looking exceptionally sharp and smelling magnificent. Without wasting time, Amana opened the front passenger door and gently seated Aabid inside. The toddler immediately burst into tears, throwing a tantrum and begging to spend the night with his Auntie.
As she tried to soothe him, the crushing weight of her reality slammed into her once more. She had no money, no security, no education, no marriage prospects, and a family back home that viewed her strictly as a financial tool. Who could ever love or marry a broken tomboy like me? she thought bitterly.
Her emotional dam finally broke. Hot, scalding tears flooded her face. Losing all control, she pulled Aabid into a tight, desperate embrace, sobbing quietly against his small shoulder. No matter how hard she tried to suppress her grief, her body shook with heavy, ragged sobs.
The interior of the vehicle fell into a profound, heavy silence. The only sound was the delicate, painful echo of her weeping.
Alim felt a powerful wave of intense pity and compassion wash over his heart. It was clear this girl was carrying an unimaginably heavy burden. Without saying a word, he reached into his compartment, pulled out a massive, crisp bundle of brand-new 1,000 Naira notes—totaling exactly 100,000 Naira—and extended it toward her.
Aabid, wiping his own tears, looked up at her anxiously. "Auntie, who hurt you? Tell my Daddy, he will make his soldiers arrest them!"
Forcing a watery, heartbreaking smile through her cascading tears, Amana took the money. Without looking at Alim, her voice trembling violently, she whispered, "Thank you. May Allah expand your wealth." She quickly turned and began walking away, furiously wiping her face.
Alim realized that simply throwing money at her wasn't enough. Given how beautifully and selflessly she cared for his son, he couldn't just leave her to suffer in this slum without understanding her pain.
He firmly pressed the horn. Amana jolted in surprise, turning around and slowly walking back to the vehicle. Alim opened his door and signaled for her to stand by his side. For nearly five minutes, she stood there in silence as he quietly observed her.
Finally, with great effort, Alim softly asked, "What is wrong with you? What is troubling you?"
Sparing him a brief, hesitant glance, she choked out, "It's nothing... I just... I really miss my parents."
"Where are your parents? Are they deceased?" Alim inquired gently.
A fresh tear rolled down her cheek. "They are in Kano State. I was sent to Lagos on CIRANI (seasonal migrant labor) to hustle and send money back home."
Alim’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock. "Ci...ra...ni?" he repeated, stunned.
She nodded silently. Alim's mind reeled with disbelief and horror that parents could unleash a young girl into the wilderness of Lagos for migrant labor. "What about your job?" he asked. "I went by the grill spot today and they said you weren't there."
"I was fired," she whispered, looking down. "I got into a severe fight with a man because he tried to inappropriately touch my body. That's why."
A deep sense of profound respect and sympathy swelled within Alim. Looking her in the eye, he said, "This neighborhood you are living in is dangerous. It is devoid of decent, god-fearing people. The compound you reside in is quite literally a brothel."
Amana let out a dry, bitter chuckle. "Hmm... I brought this upon myself. My father was the one who sent me here for money anyway." She fell silent.
Sensing the perfect opportunity, Alim seized the moment. "Would you be willing to come to my house and take up a full-time job as Aabid's nanny?"
Amana blinked in surprise. "What about your wife?"
"She passed away a long time ago," Alim replied softly.
"Oh... I am so sorry for your loss. May Allah have mercy on her soul."
"Ameen," Alim replied. "Go inside now. Tomorrow morning, I will send my personal driver to pick you up. Have your things packed and ready."
"Okay. Thank you. May Allah spare our lives until then."
She turned and floated back into the compound, while Alim drove away, his mind thoroughly consumed by her story.
The moment Amana stepped back into her room, she burst into ecstatic cheers, dancing around the small space. She immediately performed a prayer of gratitude to Allah. Armed with the 100,000 Naira Alim had given her, she marched out into the night and fully settled the 60,000 Naira debt, clearing her name.
Upon returning, she explained the situation to Dan Uzuri and handed him a generous parting gift of 10,000 Naira. The old man practically wept with joy, showering her with prayers.
The next morning, Amana woke up early and packed her belongings. She strictly selected her finest boutique clothes and cosmetics, packing them neatly into a sleek, high-end rolling trolley suitcase that her former manager had gifted her before their fallout. The remaining cooking utensils, stoves, and older clothes were entirely gifted to Dan Uzuri.
She even visited a local boutique one last time, purchasing a fresh supply of high-quality underwear and trendy outfits, determined to look immaculate as she transitioned into a wealthy, high-class household.
After treating herself to an expensive, delicious breakfast, she sat patiently waiting. By 5:30 PM, a sleek, luxury vehicle driven by a professional uniform-clad chauffeur pulled up outside the compound. Amana marched through the street, bidding a grand farewell to everyone she knew in the neighborhood.
When the locals asked if she was relocating, she tossed her head back arrogantly, put on her finest elite accent, and declared, "Oh, absolutely! I am thoroughly exhausted by this neighborhood; it’s far too provincial and backward for my taste. I have just secured a massive corporate executive position at a major firm." She spun an elaborate web of glamorous lies, determined to maintain her image as a highly successful, high-society "Big Girl."
Dan Uzuri escorted her right up to the passenger door, shedding theatrical tears. "Oh, my beloved daughter! Here is my phone number, please don't forget us! Maintain your virtue and chastity exactly as I have always known you to—as a decent, modest, reserved young lady!" He burst into loud, dramatic wails, desperately angling for future financial handouts.
The chauffeur closed her door, shifted into gear, and drove out of the slum, heading directly toward Alim’s estate. Amana sat back in the plush leather seats, her heart soaring with pure euphoria, feeling as though she had just been granted entry into paradise.
The car smoothly navigated into a breathtaking, ultra-exclusive GRA (Government Reserved Area). The neighborhood was pristine, unmatched in luxury across all of Lagos. Built entirely to European architectural standards, it was an enclave reserved exclusively for multi-millionaires, foreign expatriates, and high-society elites.
The driver pulled up to the most magnificent, colossal, and architecturally stunning mansion in the entire estate. As they approached the towering security gates, the driver simply pressed a button on a remote control. The massive automated gates smoothly lifted upward entirely on their own.
Amana sat frozen, her jaw dropping in absolute awe and wonder at the sheer display of modern wealth, having never witnessed such technology in her entire life.
