Bound by A Night

(Amara's POV)

By the time I reached the landlord's office, the sun had already melted into the dusty clouds hanging over Ojuelegba. My hands were trembling around the brown envelope that held every naira I had left-twelve thousand only. I stood in front of his desk, staring at the peeling paint on the walls, trying not to cry.

"Amara, I've given you extra two weeks already," he said, his tone more tired than cruel. "If you can't pay the balance by Friday, I'll have to rent the room to someone else. You're a good girl, but business is business."

I nodded quickly, swallowing the tightness in my throat. "I understand, sir. I'll find it. Please, just a few more days."

He sighed and waved me off.

I walked out of the building with a single thought circling in my mind-find it.

My mother's hospital bills were piling up in Enugu. The last call from the clinic had made my stomach twist. They said she needed another transfusion. I couldn't even afford my rent, let alone the hospital.

Everything felt like a clock ticking louder every second.

By the time I got to the small shop I worked at part-time, my boss, Mama Remi, gave me a sympathetic look. "You look like you've been crying," she said. "Sit down, my dear."

"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile.

She hesitated, then opened her bag and pulled out a flyer. "A friend of mine works at one event company. They need extra hands for a charity gala in Victoria Island tonight. You'll serve drinks and clear tables. They'll pay twenty thousand if you stay till morning."

My heart jumped. Twenty thousand. It wasn't enough to solve everything, but it was something.

"I'll go," I said instantly. "Please, give me the address."

That was how I found myself that night, standing in front of the Grand Victoria Hotel, dressed in a borrowed black gown and low heels that pinched my toes. The place glittered with chandeliers, soft jazz, and the scent of expensive perfume.

The guests looked like they belonged on magazine covers-men in sleek tuxedos, women in gowns that shimmered like liquid gold. I tried not to stare as I carried a tray of champagne glasses, praying I wouldn't spill anything.

I kept reminding myself: Twenty thousand. Just smile and stay invisible.

Then I saw him.

He wasn't like the others. While everyone else laughed loudly and took pictures, he stood near the corner of the room, quietly talking to an older man. His suit was simple-charcoal grey-but it fit him perfectly. His eyes caught mine for just a second, calm but sharp, and I looked away quickly.

Later, I overheard someone whisper his name.

"Ethan Cole. The CEO of ColeTech. Billionaire but lowkey. Heard he grew up in Lagos before moving abroad."

A billionaire. I couldn't imagine what it felt like to have that kind of money-to never worry about rent, or a hospital bill, or whether your slippers would tear