PART 2 

from everyone, including his own mother.
—Chinedu, what is this?
He rubbed his palms together.
—Amara, please don’t make this difficult. My promotion is coming. The board wants stability. My mother has arranged something better for the family.
—Something better?
Bisi laughed softly.
—Not something. Someone. Nneka Balogun. Her father owns Balogun Cement and Marine. She has class, connections, and money. You have tears, hospital bills, and a baby we did not plan to carry as a burden.
Amara looked at her newborn. His little mouth opened and closed in sleep, innocent of the cruelty surrounding him.
—You are leaving me today?
—We waited until the child was born, Bisi said coldly. That was kindness.
Chinedu finally lifted his eyes. They were not full of guilt. They were full of fear and greed.
—You can keep him, Amara. I will send money sometimes.
Amara almost laughed. She had married him 3 years ago when he still drove an old Toyota and ate suya by the roadside with her after her shifts at a small restaurant in Yaba. She had hidden her family name, her inheritance, and the empire her late father left behind because she wanted a man who loved her without the shadow of money.
For 3 years, she let Bisi call her a poor orphan. She washed plates at a restaurant she secretly owned. She wore cheap slippers to family functions while Bisi mocked her before aunties and church women. She stayed because she believed Chinedu’s love was real.
Now he stood beside his mother, trading his wife and newborn son for a richer bride.
—So this is because you think I am poor? Amara asked.
Bisi leaned closer.
—No, my dear. This is because you are poor.
Chinedu pulled a pen from his pocket and placed it on the bed. It was the silver pen Amara had bought for him on his last birthday after saving quietly for weeks.
—Just sign, he said. Please. Nneka’s family is waiting for us at Eko Hotel.
The nurse gasped under her breath.
Amara took the pen.
Her hand did not shake.
She opened the envelope and saw the title: Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. No property. No support. Full custody of the child. Chinedu had already signed.
Amara signed her name slowly.
Amara Adewale.
Then she placed the pen on top of the papers and looked at her husband.
—You have made a mistake today.
Bisi snatched the documents.
—The only mistake was allowing my son to marry a nobody.
Amara’s eyes became calm in a way that made Chinedu uneasy.
—Do not come back when the rain starts beating you.
Bisi hissed and pulled her son toward the door.
—Come, Chinedu. Your real future is waiting.
They left.
For 3 minutes, Amara listened to Bisi’s heels fade down the corridor. Then she lifted her son from the bassinet and kissed his forehead.
She reached for the old phone beside her bed and dialed a number saved under one word: Guardian.
The call connected immediately.
A deep male voice answered.
—Miss Okonkwo, are you safe?
Amara closed her eyes.
—Uncle Tunde, I am done hiding.
There was silence.
—Should I restore your full authority?
Amara looked at the divorce papers on the bed, then at the hospital walls her own company had built.
—Yes. Activate Phoenix Protocol. Release my accounts, send my convoy to the private exit, and prepare the legal files on Adewale Transport and Balogun Cement.
—And your husband?
Amara’s voice dropped to a whisper.
—Let him enjoy his celebration first. Tonight, I want to give them a gift they will never forget…