Story for tonight…Lagos never truly slept—but that night, it felt like it had chosen to whisper.
The city lights flickered softly against the glass walls of Vicky’s penthouse, the distant Atlantic stretching into darkness like a secret waiting to be told. Inside, the air carried a stillness that neither Vicky nor Opoku wanted to break too quickly.
It was their last night before reality resumed.
Vicky leaned into him, her head resting gently against his chest, her fingers tracing slow, absent patterns against his shirt.
“Funny…” she murmured, “how everything can feel so calm… when everything is about to get complicated.”
Opoku smiled faintly, his hand resting over hers.
“It’s because this part,” he said softly, “is ours. No elders. No expectations. Just us.”
She tilted her head slightly, looking up at him.
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” he replied, “you go back to being Vicky the executive… and I go back to being the investment banker, the President’s son.”
A pause.
Not bitter.
Just real.
By morning, Lagos had returned to its usual rhythm.
Car horns. Movement. Urgency.
Vicky stood by the door, dressed for work already—sharp, composed, every inch the woman who commanded boardrooms and respect.
Yet something softer lingered in her eyes.
“So this is it,” she said.
“For now,” Opoku corrected.
She studied him briefly.
“When will I see you again?”
He stepped closer.
“Sooner than it feels,” he said. “I’ll be in Accra handling a few things… and preparing for you.”
Her brows lifted slightly.
“Preparing?”
A hint of mystery touched his expression.
“You’ll see.”
By midday:
Opoku departed Lagos for Accra
Vicky resumed work at MTN on Monday morning
Life continued.
But beneath it…
Something had already shifted.
Three days later—
In Calabar, Chief Archibong received a message.
The Ghanaian delegation was ready.
Not for celebration.
For formal engagement.
Two days after that—
A selected inner caucus was assembled.
Not the full families this time.
Only:
Chief Archibong and his most trusted elders
Ambassador Odamtten and two senior representatives from Accra
No distractions.
No audience.
Just decision-makers.
And far away in Lagos…
Vicky felt it.
Not through words.
But through instinct.
Something had begun.
Chapter 10 promises deep and unexpected tensions, don’t even blink.
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