“This is not normal again.”
One maid whispered bitterly, “She has finished us.”
Ngozi laughed. “My dear, she has just started.”
Later that night, Ma sat on her bed holding the dress, touching it gently, still in disbelief.
“Why me?”
She looked at her reflection.
Simple girl.
Village girl.
Talkative girl.
Then she whispered softly, “What is happening to my life?”
In his room, Anthony stood by the window again, but this time he was not empty.
He was not restless.
He was not broken.
He was thinking about her.
Her smile.
Her voice.
Her chaos.
Her peace.
He exhaled slowly.
“I’m in trouble.”
Because this feeling—it was not small.
It was not simple.
It was deep, strong, and completely unavoidable.
Tomorrow, at the gala, the world would see her.
Jealousy would rise.
Feelings would deepen.
And hearts would be tested.
But for now, in the quiet of the night, Anthony lay on his bed, closed his eyes, and once again, because of her, he slept.
The mansion was not calm that evening.
It was charged—like NEPA had just brought light and everybody was rushing to charge their phones at once.
Because today, Ma was no longer just a maid.
Ma was going to a gala with the billionaire.
Inside the maid’s quarters—chaos. Pure chaos.
Ngozi held the dress like it was a newborn baby.
“Careful. This cloth is more expensive than my future.”
Ma stood in the middle of the room, confused. “I don’t understand. Is this really my life?”
One maid hissed from the corner. “It is not your life. It is a temporary opportunity.”
Ma turned and smiled sweetly. “Don’t worry. Even temporary things can change permanent destiny.”
Ngozi clapped. “Say it again.”
They helped her dress up.
The creamy gown flowed perfectly on her body.
Soft. Elegant. Royal.
Her curly hair was styled neatly, still in a bun, but now refined.
Light makeup. Simple jewelry.
Nothing too loud, but everything perfect.
When she looked in the mirror, she froze.
“Who is this?”
Ngozi placed her hands on her shoulders. “That is the girl who is about to scatter rich people’s peace.”
Ma gasped. “Please don’t scatter anything. I just started work.”
Anthony stood in the living room—black suit, sharp, powerful—waiting.
Calm on the outside.
But inside, something was moving.
Then came footsteps.
Soft. Elegant.
He turned and saw her.
Ma.
For a moment, time stopped.
His breath caught.
“Wow.”
The word escaped before he could stop it.
Ma shifted shyly. “Sir… is it too much?”
He shook his head slowly. “It’s not enough.”
She blinked. “Eh?”
“You look…” He paused, searching for words. “Dangerous.”
Ma’s eyes widened. “Dangerous? I knew it. This dress is not safe.”
Anthony laughed softly. “No. Not that kind of dangerous.”
Mama Grace appeared behind them, smiling like she had just won the lottery. “My children, go before I start crying.”
Ma whispered, “Why are you calling us children? This is suspicious.”
The car pulled up to the grand gala venue.
Lights. Luxury. Rich people everywhere.
Cars that looked like they never greeted potholes.
Ma held her breath.
“Sir.”
“Yes?”
“If I embarrass you, please pretend you don’t know me.”
Anthony glanced at her. “Too late.”
He stepped out, walked to her side, opened the door, and held out his hand.
Ma stared at it. “This hand is official.”
“Take it.”
She placed her hand in his—softly, carefully—and together they stepped into the night.
The moment they entered, heads turned.
Eyes widened.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
“Is that Anthony Olamide?”
“Who is that girl?”
