The ballroom of Eko Hotel on Victoria Island was packed with 300 of the most powerful people in Nigeria. Crystal chandeliers glowed overhead. White roses covered every table. In the center of the room stood a twelve-tier cake with one name written in gold:
Adese.
It was her twentieth birthday.
And she had not been invited.
She stood at the entrance in a simple Ankara dress—the nicest thing she owned—holding a small gift bag. The security guard checked the guest list, frowned, and looked back at her.
“Your name is not here, madam.”
Before Adese could answer, a sharp voice sliced through the lobby.
“Of course her name is not there,” the woman said. “She is a roadside coffee seller from Mushin.”
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