Zina stared at him, blinking through the silence, trying to decide if this was real—or some nightmare wrapped in marble floors and designer cologne.
"You want me to marry you," she said slowly, as if repeating it might change the meaning.
Kain Umeziri didn't blink. "Correct."
"Why?"
He turned away, walking to the glass wall that overlooked the city like a god surveying his kingdom. The skyline shimmered below, unaware that Zina's life was being twisted into something unrecognizable.
"Marriage is… efficient," he said. "And symbolic. Certain debts require more than paperwork."
She swallowed. "So this isn't about love."
He turned his head slightly. "Do I strike you as the romantic type?"
Zina folded her arms. "You strike me as a man who could afford better ways to punish a girl."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "It's not punishment. It's opportunity."
He stepped closer again. Too close.
"I will erase the ₦45 million debt. You will receive ₦10 million in your account tomorrow. Your mother's treatment can continue. Your life—what's left of it—will be comfortable."
"What's the catch?"
He tilted his head. "There are… rules. You'll be given a list. Break them, and the contract is void."
"And then what? You sue me for ₦45 million?"
His smile returned. "No, Zina. Then you die."
She took a step back. "Is that a joke?"
His eyes locked onto hers. Flat. Ancient.
"No."
A coldness crawled down her spine. She should've run. But something in her—a whisper, a pull—rooted her to the spot.
"You'll have time to think," he said. "But not much. The wedding is in two days."
"What if I say no?"
"You won't," he said simply, returning to his desk. "Not with your mother in critical condition. Not with no job. Not with nowhere else to go."
Zina's throat burned.
She hated him.
She hated how calm he was. How powerful. How right he probably was.
A woman appeared at the door. Pale. Pretty. Robotic.
"This is Laila," Kain said. "She will escort you downstairs. She'll also provide the rules and the contract."
Zina turned to go, her mind spinning.
"Oh," Kain said. "One more thing."
She paused.
"If you sign… you must never say my name after sunset."
📜 Later That Night – Back in Surulere
Zina sat cross-legged on the bed, the contract before her. The heading read:
Marital Union Agreement between Zina Obianuju and Kain A. Umeziri
She hadn't told her mother anything yet. What was she supposed to say?
Hey Mum, I'm marrying a demon-CEO so you don't die?
They'd check her into Yaba Left before sunrise.
The "rules" were even stranger:
1. Never enter the east wing after 3:00 a.m.
2. Do not speak Mr. Umeziri's full name after sunset.
3. You are not to touch any mirror within the estate.
4. Do not bleed on the property.
5. Under no condition must you ever open the black door.
What in Nollywood hell is this? she thought.
But the ₦10 million was real. Already deposited.
And her mother's surgery had been scheduled.
She stared at the space for her signature.
Her hands trembled.
She signed.