She had even practiced how she would faint when Kelvin proposed.
Back in America, Kelvin stood before his mirror. Perfect haircut. Sharp navy suit. Luxury watch. He looked every inch the billionaire.
But inside he was nervous.
“Please, God,” he muttered with a small smile, “let me not marry a professional shopper.”
He didn’t know that in Lagos, one particular professional shopper was already warming up, and she had no intention of failing her own gold-digger Olympics.
Little did Kelvin know, chapter one was just the calm before the storm.
And somewhere in Lagos, fate was already laughing.
His mother and Linda waited for him at the airport.
The first thing Kelvin noticed about Lagos wasn’t the heat.
It was Linda’s volume.
From the moment they left Murtala Muhammed International Airport, she had been talking nonstop inside her luxury SUV like she was hosting a live radio show.
“Kelvin, you’ve lost weight. American stress. Don’t worry, I will feed you properly now.”
Kelvin glanced at his reflection in the tinted window. Lost weight? He was still six-foot-two of disciplined gym consistency.
His mother sat beside Linda in the back seat, nodding approvingly like she had personally supervised Kelvin’s birth certificate.
“See how she cares?” his mother whispered loudly. Loudly enough to wake up ancestors.
Kelvin smiled politely. Something felt off, but he ignored it for now.
The Lagos mansion was glowing—gold-accented modern interior design, marble floors polished enough to reflect future mistakes.
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