By the time we passed the link bridge out of Lekki, the city had thinned out.

Ikoyi always quieted itself at night, not because it was asleep, but because it could afford to be. Roads stretched into the many estates, streetlights casting dull yellow pools on the asphalt, security posts blinking lazily as cars slipped through. Even the lagoon nearby seemed to hold its breath, dark and watchful, as though it knew better than to make noise here.

The car slowed as we turned into the estate. Gravel crunched softly under the tyres. A guard lifted the barrier without questions.

Inside the car, the air-conditioning hummed steadily, but my body lagged behind the cold. Whatever I had drunk earlier still sat somewhere inside me, blurring the edges of things. My limbs felt heavier than they should have. My head throbbed faintly, as though trying to surface from water.

I sat upright, hands folded tightly in my lap, concentrating on staying awake.

Ifeoluwa kept his eyes on the road. I thought maybe he was avoiding me.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

The words came out quietly, barely disturbing the silence between us.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t rush to respond.

“Sorry for what?” he asked.

I stared at the dashboard, then the driver, wondering if he was focusing on the driving or could be eavesdropping.

“For making you come rescue me again,” I said. “For pulling you into situations you didn’t ask for. For turning you into the person I reach for when things fall apart.”

The car continued smoothly, unhurried.

“I told my father about you,” he said.

I turned toward him. “You did?”

“Yes.”

My chest tightened. “Please don’t tell me you explained… everything.”

He didn’t answer.

The silence that followed was awkward. I really hope he didn’t tell his father, but I didn’t press.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this,” I said finally. “I don’t even recognize myself sometimes.”

He exhaled slowly. “Then explain it to me.”

I shook my head weakly. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Explain anyway.”

I swallowed.

Ifeoluwa continued, “Why do you keep choosing him? Is it because he’s famous? Because he’s white? Because he’s loud and shiny. Does it make you feel special?”

He glanced at me briefly, catching my gaze. “You were lying on his bed when I got there.”

The words weren’t cruel. They were factual.

“He tricked me,” I said quickly. “I was told the prince sent a car. His driver said the prince sent him. I thought—”

“I know,” he said.

I hesitated. “What did you tell my mother?”

“That you had a work emergency,” he replied. “That you’d be unavailable tonight. That you’d call her as soon as you could.”

Guilt pressed sharply against my chest.

“What am I doing?” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “Turning a good man into a liar.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“You are going to be resting and working tonight,” he said eventually.

I looked up. “What?”

“I’m not sitting with any governor,” he continued calmly. “I won’t help them borrow credit for a rescue they didn’t attempt.”

I nodded. I understood that much.

“But,” he added, “I’ll let you interview me.”

I stared at him. “That will cause trouble.”

“Do your job properly,” he said. “With integrity. Don’t let them use you to manipulate a story.”

“But my boss—”

“Tell him that was my condition.”

The car slowed.

“And tonight,” he said, “you will rehearse alone. My assistant wrote a script. When you wake up in the morning, we can have a session. You’ll ask the questions you want to ask. In the morning, you’ll take it to your boss. If anyone speaks to me, it will be you.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak.

The car came to a stop.

I looked out of the window.

The estate opened into something vast, quiet, private, bordered by water. A mansion rose ahead of us, understated in the way only real wealth ever was.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“This is my place,” he said. “I stay with my father presently. This one is for later, when I build my family.”

I let out a small, disbelieving breath.

“I didn’t bring you here to impress you,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.

“I don’t go to men because of money,” I replied sharply.

He looked at me then. Really looked.

“But you’ll go to them because they amuse you,” he said quietly. “And that’s what worries me.”

The driver parked.

Ifeoluwa got out and came around to my side, offering his hand.

The way he guided me into the house, steady, careful, unassuming, you would never guess he’d just spoken to me with that much firmness.

At the entrance, a woman was already waiting.

His aunty.

She took one look at me and her face softened immediately.

“Oh, my dear,” she said, drawing me gently inside. “What has happened to you?”

I didn’t know how to answer.

I only knew that my life had veered into something I didn’t recognize anymore.

And for the first time, I was afraid, not of being pulled away, but of how easily I let myself be pulled at all.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Aunty Mercy led me down a quiet corridor and into a room that felt deliberately gentle, soft lighting, and wide windows. Nothing screamed luxury, yet everything was expensive in the way only premium people could understand.

She returned minutes later with a cup of tea and placed it on the bedside table without ceremony.

“Drink this,” she said simply.

That was all.

Within thirty minutes, the fog in my head began to lift. My limbs stopped feeling like borrowed things and the heaviness I felt all night loosened its grip, slowly, kindly.

She didn’t ask me who I was, or what happened. She didn’t even look at me the way people look at people they thought needed rescue.

Instead, she brought a neatly folded dress, fresh towels, and a tray of toiletries and placed them gently on the chair.

“You can bathe when you’re ready,” she said. “I’ll be outside.”

And she left.

No questions. No concern dressed up as curiosity. Just care.

It was exactly what I needed.

“How did she know?” I wondered.

Under the warm water, I stood longer than necessary, letting it run over me as though it could wash away the evening entirely. Adrian had touched me inappropriately, I was sure of this. My body remembered, even though my brain didn’t. I was just glad he didn’t go all the way. 

By the time I changed into the dress Aunty Mercy brought, my body felt like it belonged to me again.

I sat on the bed and looked around.

That was when the thought came, uninvited but persistent.

Ifeoluwa is not real.

This house, this place, didn’t resemble anything I had ever seen. Not the glossy exaggerations of Hollywood, not the loud, intentional displays of wealth that begged to be admired.

This was different.

The kind of wealth that didn’t need proof.

How was he this rich, yet so… casual?

Yes, the world knew about his royal lineage, but I doubted anyone truly understood the scale of his life, the reach of it, the power that came not from noise, but from position.

No wonder no one stood up to him.

Not even Adrian, with all his arrogance, had ever truly challenged him.

That should have been enough to let me sleep.

But it wasn’t.

Sleep felt impossible after everything that had happened. My body was calmer, yes, but my mind wouldn’t settle. I kept seeing his face, how he had handed me over to his aunty without meeting my eyes. How he hadn’t asked if I was okay. How he had simply… stepped back.

It felt like judgment.

Or disappointment.

And that scared me more than anger ever could.

I needed to see him, even if just to know what he was thinking of me. I couldn’t lie there wondering.

Quietly, I slipped off the bed and padded toward the door. I opened it slowly, careful not to make a sound.

I hadn’t realised the room was a suite, with a small living area just beyond the bedroom.

I stopped short when I heard voices.

Aunty Mercy’s voice was unmistakably curious.

“Ifeoluwa… where did you find this girl?”

There was a pause before he answered.

“You always help people,” she continued gently. “But you’ve never brought anyone here before.”

I held my breath.

“She’s not just people,” he said.

Something in his voice made my chest tighten.

“She’s mine. The one.”

Aunty Mercy chuckled softly. “The one, the one? Like that?”

“Yes,” he said. “Like that.”

Another pause.

“Then why are you not smiling?” she asked. “You don’t look happy.”

“She doesn’t look like your type,” she added.

“That’s the thing,” he replied quietly. “She’s exactly my type.”

My heart thudded painfully.

“Deep down, she’s a good girl.”

“Then why do you look so sad?” Aunty Mercy asked. “Is it because you didn’t expect a good girl like her to be so… high on substances or have an addiction?”

“She’s not,” he said immediately. Firmly. “She put herself in the wrong environment, that’s all. She doesn’t abuse anything.”

Silence stretched.

“She keeps placing herself where she can be hurt,” he continued. “And sometimes… I wonder if it’s worth it. To keep going.”

My throat closed.

“Ahn ahn,” Aunty Mercy said quickly. “Please. Don’t give up too quickly. Have mercy.”

“I don’t want to give up,” he replied. “I love her, but royalty doesn’t force itself on anyone. I’m a prince. If she doesn’t choose me, then… I won’t trap her.”

I leaned against the wall, dizzy.

“Everything I’m building,” he went on, voice low, almost tired. “It’s for her. For the life we’re meant to have.”

Aunty Mercy sighed. “You’ve been watching her for a long time.”

“Yes,” he said.

“How long?”

“Since my father told me she was my betrothed.”

My knees nearly buckled.

“The scholarship,” he added. “The job. The way things aligned for her… I’ve been watching over her all my life.”

Aunty Mercy smiled, I could hear it in her voice.

“That is Grace,” she said. “Your Grace?”

“Yes,” he replied softly. “That is my Grace.”

My world tilted.

I didn’t wait to hear more.

I turned quietly and went back into the room, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure it would betray me. I sat on the bed just as Aunty Mercy’s phone rang outside. I heard her excuse herself and step away.

Only then did I breathe.

What did he mean by My Grace?

How did he know me before I knew him? I thought it was a Tolu connection via social media.

The scholarship… that was him?

How long had he been in my life without my knowledge?

My phone buzzed.

Ifeoluwa: Good night. We’ll talk in the morning.

I stared at the screen.

How could I sleep now, after hearing all that? After realising my life might not be as accidental as I thought?

My fingers trembled as I typed.

Me: How can I sleep when I feel so guilty?

The reply came gently.

Ifeoluwa: All is good 😊

Who is this man? I wondered again.

My fingers hovered.

Me: Can I see you? Or have you left?

His reply didn’t come quickly.

Then:

Ifeoluwa: I’m not leaving until you sleep.

My throat tightened.

Me: I can’t sleep until I see you.

Another pause.

A smiling emoji appeared.

Then the message:

Ifeoluwa: Step out. Walk straight.

I stood.

Barefoot, I opened the door and walked straight into the quiet..

——————————————————————————————————————————-

As I walked toward him, his face softened into a smile.

It unsettled me.

I stopped where Aunty Mercy had been sitting moments earlier and faced him fully.

“Why are you smiling?” I asked. “Are you no longer upset? You’re not angry with me?”

He studied me for a moment, then said gently, “Do you really think I can stay angry with you?”

I shrugged. “After tonight? I wouldn’t blame you.”

“You’re the love of my life,” he said.

The words landed softly, and yet knocked the air out of me.

I looked away, suddenly shy. I liked how it sounded but I hated how confusing everything was.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked. “I’ve been thinking about this since you walked up to me at Tolu’s wedding. Who enters someone’s life already in love with them?”

He smiled again, stood up, and came to sit beside me. He tilted my chin gently so I had no choice but to look at him.

“The person who has been in love with you all your life,” he said.

Before I could respond, footsteps sounded behind us.

A woman walked in.

“Oh,” Ifeoluwa said easily. “Good. Georgina is here.”

The woman looked at me, not briefly, not politely, but directly, accessing me coldly.

“I want you to meet Georgina,” Ifeoluwa continued. “She works with me. She’s a lawyer, like I am. She’s also one of my assistants.”

Georgina nodded once. No smile.

“She has the interview script for tomorrow,” he added. “I wasn’t sure whether to drop it tonight or wait till morning. 

“I don’t think I want to do the interview,” I said quietly. “My boss won’t like it.”

“That’s the best you’ll get,” Georgina said flatly. “You should be grateful.”

The room shifted.

Ifeoluwa turned to her slowly.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “Why are you speaking to her like that?”

“We’re breaking protocol,” Georgina replied. “This is not our normal.”

“Excuse me,” Ifeoluwa said calmly, standing. “One moment.”

He walked a few steps away with her. They lowered their voices, but not enough.

“That’s my fiancée,” he said. “Rein in your judgment.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Georgina replied, “you deserve better. We’ve done too much for her already.”

“Stop,” he said. “You’re in charge of the files, the surveillance. You know she’s good but she just met me. She doesn’t know what you know. You can’t expect perfection overnight.”

I felt my chest tighten.

What files?

What surveillance?

Georgina hesitated. “Yes, sir.”

He returned alone.

Something in me broke.

“Thank you for everything,” I said, standing. “But I think I should go home.”

He reached for my hand instinctively, then cupped my cheek, the left one, the one I’m most sensitive about.

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

It caught me off guard.

“Yes,” I said.

He pulled me into his arms and held me there, not tightly, not possessively, but steadily. Like someone anchoring something fragile.

When he let go, I already missed it.

“Why do you suddenly want to leave?” he asked.

“I overheard your conversations tonight,” I said. “Both of them. You keep saying you’ve known me all my life. Surveillance? Scholarships? Even my job, I’m starting to think it came from you. I’m confused.”

He nodded once.

“I think we need to sit down.”

He guided me back to the couch. I leaned into it, exhausted. He stayed upright, holding my hand.

“My darling,” he began, “when I was ten years old, my father told me they had been taking care of a girl for me since she was born. He said she was five years old then. And according to what was written concerning me, that girl was mine.”

My breath caught.

“On the day you were born,” he continued, “my father sent people to the hospital to settle the bills. Since then, we’ve watched over you. Quietly.”

My head spun.

“Sometimes,” he said, “they’d take me past your school so I could see you playing. I learned to love you over time.”

I stared at him.

“Before you were formed,” he said softly, “my father already knew you were mine. We didn’t come to you because the time wasn’t right. But it is now.”

He squeezed my hand.

“I want you to choose me.”

“This is… mysterious,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said. “I would lay down my life for you. In fact, I already did.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember when you were fifteen?” he asked.

I searched my memory. “Vaguely.”

“You were very sick,” he said.

My stomach dropped. “I needed blood.”

“Yes.”

“They said my body was rejecting everything,” I said slowly. “Until a stranger donated too much blood. My parents still talk about it.”

He held my gaze.

“That was me.”

The room tilted.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, dizzy.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Ifeoluwa placed a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

Only then did I realize I was swaying.

He noticed too.

“Grace,” he said softly, “I know how these things usually go. A man asks, and the woman takes her time. Weeks. Months. Sometimes years.”

I said nothing.

“But in my father’s kingdom,” he continued, “we don’t ask casually, we choose. And when we choose, we are deliberate.”

Something in his tone made my chest tighten.

“Those who say no,” he added quietly, “eventually realize they were wrong, because nothing else fits the way this does.”

He took my hand and guided it to his chest.

His heart was racing.

“Do you feel that?” he asked. “It beats for you. You give meaning to my life.”

I pulled my hand back slightly.

“Our partnership isn’t accidental,” he said. “It’s necessary. With me, you step fully into what you were created to do. Without me—”

I laughed, sharp and breathless.

“Without you, my life isn’t complete?” I finished. “That sounds like pride. Or manipulation.”

He didn’t flinch.

“I’m telling you the truth,” he said. “Not to trap you. Not to impress you. I’ve come to you as it was written, concerning me and you.”

The room felt smaller.

I shook my head. “Thank you, Ifeoluwa.”

“What do you think my name means?” he asked gently.

“The love of God,” I replied.

A small smile touched his lips. “Exactly. That is who I am to you.”

I felt something cold brush my spine.

“Before that name,” he continued, “they called me Prince Adeoluwa. That was my birth name. But on the day my father told me about you, he gave me another one.”

He paused.

“Ifeoluwa,” he said. “The love of God. For you.”

The silence pressed in.

“I want to cover you,” he went on. “Protect you, build a life with you, multiply my father’s kingdom through us.”

I stepped back.

“This sounds… beautiful,” I said carefully. “But it also sounds like control. What if you’re lying? What if you’re wrong? What if you’re the bad guy and I just can’t see it yet?”

He studied me, unreadable.

“I think I need to go home,” I said. “I’ll tell my boss you’re not doing the interview. I’m not making any connections. I’m done.”

I stood and turned toward my room.

For a moment, I expected him to stop me.

He didn’t.

I packed my things quickly. He had followed me down the hallway but stayed at the door.

“My driver will take you,” he said.

“I’ll take a taxi.”

“The driver,” he repeated calmly. “It’s safer.”

I hesitated. “The last time I trusted someone’s driver, I almost lost myself.”

He met my eyes. “If I wanted to harm you, Grace, I wouldn’t need permission. A taxi wouldn’t save you.”

Fear flickered.

Then his voice softened.

“Go. Let him take you home.”

I swallowed. “I want my life back. The one I had before I met you. You’re… overwhelming.”

“You’re overwhelmed,” he corrected. 

He turned to leave, then paused.

“My driver is waiting downstairs,” he said. “If you’ve chosen to go.”

“I choose to go,” I replied.

And for the first time since I met him, he let me walk away.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Hmmm… I sighed deeply after this episode.

First for how mysterious it felt because of the allegory that it is. And second for how things turned around, how Grace chose to see things and her choice to leave.

I have thoughts but I can’t find words so I’m quietly waiting for episode 6. Thank you BOJ, I know we’re building something strong with this.

• Editor’s Comment.