Chapter 5 The weight of ring

Chapter 5: The Weight of the Ring

​The Mercedes-Maybach glided through the streets of Victoria Island like a silent predator. Inside, the air was cool and smelled of Alexander's expensive cologne, but Amaka felt like she was suffocating. She looked down at her hands-they were clean, her nails manicured in a soft nude polish, but she could still feel the phantom grit of Mushin dust under her skin.

​"We are going to Le Bijou," Alexander said, not looking up from his tablet. "It is the most exclusive jeweler in West Africa. You will not look at the price tags. You will not gasp. You will simply choose the one that looks like it belongs on the hand of a Sterling."

​Amaka turned to him, her brow furrowing. "A ring won't make this any more real, Alexander. It's just more gold for my cage."

​Alexander finally looked at her, his eyes cold. "It's not for you. It's for the cameras. My mother has a hawk's eye for quality. If I give you anything less than a ten-carat diamond, she'll know I'm hiding something. Do you want the five million Naira to stay in your account? Then play the part."

​The car stopped in front of a discreet, black-fronted shop with no signs, only a gold crest on the door. A tall man in a tuxedo opened the door before they even stepped out.

​"Mr. Sterling," the man beamed, bowing slightly. "We have been expecting you. We've cleared the showroom as requested."

​As they walked in, Amaka felt the shift in atmosphere. This wasn't a shop; it was a cathedral of wealth. Diamonds danced under spotlights, and the carpet was so thick she felt like she was walking on clouds.

​A woman in a sharp silk dress approached them, her eyes immediately scanning Amaka. The woman's smile faltered for a micro-second as she took in Amaka's stiff posture. "And this must be the lucky lady? I must say, Alexander, you kept her very well hidden."

​"Amaka prefers her privacy," Alexander said, his hand sliding firmly to the small of Amaka's back. The heat of his palm through her dress made her jump slightly, but she forced herself to lean into him.

​"Of course," the woman purred. "Let's start with the Eternal collection. Only the finest D-flawless stones."

​She laid out a velvet tray. The rings were blinding. Amaka stared at them, her mind doing quick math. One of those stones could probably buy three apartment buildings in Yaba. It could pay for Chidi's education all the way to a PhD.

​"Try this one," Alexander said, picking up a massive pear-shaped diamond.

​He took Amaka's left hand. His fingers were long and cool as he slid the ring onto her finger. The weight of it was shocking. It was heavy, a literal burden of wealth.

​"It's too big," Amaka whispered, her voice trembling. "It looks... fake on me."

​"It's not the ring that looks fake, Amaka. It's your expression," Alexander hissed in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. "Smile. Look at me like I just gave you the moon."

​Amaka looked up at him, her heart hammering. For a moment, with the lights reflecting in the diamonds and the scent of his sandalwood cologne surrounding her, she forgot the contract. She saw the sharp line of his jaw and the way his eyes seemed to soften just a fraction when he looked at her.

​"Is this what you do?" she asked, her voice low so the shop assistant couldn't hear. "Buy pieces of people and wrap them in gold?"

​Alexander's grip on her hand tightened. "I buy what I need, Amaka. Right now, I need a wife. And you need a savior. Don't confuse the two."

​"I don't need a savior," she snapped back, her Lagos pride flaring up. "I need a partner. Saviors think they own the people they save. Partners respect them."

​The shop assistant returned with a bottle of vintage champagne. "A toast to the beautiful couple?"

​Alexander took a glass and handed one to Amaka. "To the contract," he said softly, his eyes boring into hers.

​"To the truth," Amaka countered, clinking her glass against his.

​As they walked back to the car, the ring heavy on her finger, Amaka saw a group of street kids darting between the cars at the traffic light, selling plantain chips and sachet water. One of them looked just like Chidi.

​She instinctively hid her hand behind her back, ashamed of the millions of Naira sitting on her finger while children begged for crumbs just meters away.

​"You can't hide from where you came from, Amaka," Alexander said, watching her from the shadows of the backseat. "But you can choose never to go back. That ring is your ticket out of the mud. Don't be ungrateful."

​"There is a difference between being grateful and being bought, Alexander," Amaka said, looking out at the Lagos skyline. "You might have put a ring on my finger, but you haven't put a leash on my neck."

​Alexander leaned back, a dark, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. "We'll see about that. The gala is tonight. The whole of Lagos will be watching. If you survive my mother, then perhaps you'll earn the right to speak to me as an equal. Until then, you are exactly what I paid for."

​As the car accelerated toward the Sterling Estate, Amaka gripped her handbag. Inside was the phone that held the notification of the five million Naira. On her finger was a diamond that could feed a village. And in her heart was a growing fear that she was beginning to find the monster in the suit a little too attractive for her own safety.

looked down at the diamond again. It was beautiful, yes, but it felt like a cold, hard shackle around my soul. In Mushin, we knew who our enemies were-they carried knives and spoke with their fists. But here, in the back of this silent Maybach, the danger was wrapped in Italian silk and smelled like expensive sandalwood.

​Alexander's phone chimed, the blue light reflecting off his sharp features. He didn't even look at me as he typed a message that probably cost more than my neighborhood's entire yearly income.

​"One more thing, Amaka," he said, his voice cutting through the silence. "Vanessa will be there tonight. She was... close to the family. She will try to provoke you. If you lose your temper, you lose the contract. And if you lose the contract, the hospital's 'VIP' treatment for your mother ends tomorrow morning."

​The threat was delivered so calmly it made my blood run cold. He wasn't just my fiancé; he was my jailer. I realized then that the "Weight of Gold" wasn't just about the ring or the money. It was the weight of a life I didn't own anymore. As the car turned into the long, guarded driveway of the Sterling Estate, I took a deep breath. I had to bury the girl from the slums and become the Lioness he paid for. Because in this world, if you aren't the predator, you're the prey-and I had no intention of being anyone's dinner.