Cynthia pressed the cool side of her phone against her clammy forehead, blinking back the burn in her eyes as her brother’s voice sliced through the silence of her tiny sitting room.

"Cynthia, please," Ryan slurred on the other end, his voice thick, desperate. "You’re married to a fucking billionaire now. What’s a few million naira to you, huh?"

She closed her eyes, inhaling slowly. She hadn't told Ryan about the contract. About the humiliation. About the loneliness eating away at her piece by piece. How could he understand, when he only ever saw the world through the bottom of a whiskey bottle?

"I don’t have that kind of money,...