At least they stopped attacking her through lawyers.
They had something worse planned.
Adese turned twenty on a Saturday in March.
She had no plans.
She swept the compound, made breakfast, and went to the café.
Her family gave her a card. Mama Obi made chin-chin. Papa Obi hugged her and said, “Today is a big day. Bigger than you know.”
That evening, an invitation arrived.
A birthday celebration.
Eko Hotel.
Formal attire.
Adese frowned. “I did not plan any party.”
Ameka appeared beside her. “We did.”
She had nothing grand to wear—only three decent outfits.
She chose the best one, a simple Ankara dress sewn by Mama Obi, and went.
The ballroom was stunning.
Three hundred guests.
Crystal chandeliers.
A twelve-tier cake.
Her name in gold.
Music. Champagne. Rich people.
Adese stood at the entrance, overwhelmed.
“This is all for me?”
Ameka smiled. “Happy birthday, sister.”
She walked in.
Then Netchi saw her.
Netchi had arrived with Madam Adami, both dressed in expensive gold and silk. They had heard about the celebration and come for one reason—to remind Adese where she “belonged.”
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