Chapter 22: Fractured Loyalties
The presidential suite in Abuja felt like a pressure cooker Saturday night after the beach celebration. The city lights glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but inside, the air between Damian and Imani crackled with everything unsaid. The connecting door between their bedrooms had been taunting them since Thursday—locked from both sides, yet somehow thinner than the walls of Surulere.
Imani had slipped away from the beach early, claiming exhaustion. In truth, she couldn't stand another second of watching Damian laugh with his friends while the memory of his public words still burned: incompetent… playing victim… step aside. She'd showered, changed into an oversized T-shirt and leggings, and curled on the king bed, staring at the ceiling. Her phone buzzed with fresh blog notifications—more mockery of the video Sarian had leaked. She muted it.
Distance.
That was the plan.
Stay away.
Protect what was left of my family.
Across the shared living area, Damian was pacing .
The contract win should have felt like victory.
Billions secured.
But all he tasted was guilt. Andrea's words from the corridor still rang: You know what she's going through… stop making her problems worse. He'd snapped because watching her break in silence tore him apart—and the only way he knew to handle it was anger. Pathetic.
He stopped in front of the connecting door. Fist raised. Hesitated. The heat from the beach still lingered on his skin—the way her eyes had flicked toward him across the fire pit, the way she'd left without a word. He knocked. Soft. Once. Twice.
No answer.
He tried again, voice low and rough through the wood. "Imani. Please.Can we talk "
Silence.
Then the soft pad of bare feet. The lock clicked.
She opened the door just a crack, eyes swollen, braids loose over one shoulder. The T-shirt hung off one side, exposing the curve of her collarbone. His gaze dropped before he could stop it. Heat flared low in his gut—sharp, unwanted, undeniable.
"I'm tired, Mr. Anderson," she said quietly. But she didn't close the door.
He stepped closer, filling the frame. "You've been avoiding me since Tuesday. Since I offered you the money. Since the blogs. Since… everything."
Her chin lifted, defiant even while exhausted. "Because I told you I can't take anything from you. That when you decide to tore me apart in front of the entire team."
His jaw tightened. "I was wrong.
I know I was. The files, the pressure… I took it out on you because watching you carry everything alone is killing me." He lifted a hand, stopped himself, then let it fall to the doorframe inches from her shoulder. "You're not incompetent. You're the only reason we closed that deal. And I—"
Her breath hitched. The space between them shrank. His eyes traced her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She could smell his cologne—sandalwood and something darker. One step and they'd be touching again, like the elevator, like the office hug, like every almost-moment that left her aching.
"I can't," she whispered. "Every time we get close, something breaks. The blogs, Ivy, your family… I won't be the reason you lose everything."
His hand finally moved—slow, deliberate—brushing a loose braid behind her ear. The touch lingered. Electricity. "What if I don't care about losing it?" Voice hoarse. "What if the only thing I'm scared of losing is—"
Her phone vibrated loudly on the nightstand behind her. The moment snapped. She stepped back, eyes wide. "Goodnight, Damian."
The door closed. Lock clicked. He stood there, forehead against the wood, breathing hard. The heat between them had never burned hotter—or felt more dangerous.
Across Lagos, the fracture was already widening.
Friday evening, Becky's phone rang while she hunched over JAMB past questions in their Surulere flat. Maya's name flashed. She almost ignored it—orders from Imani is still fresh—but the crying on the other end broke her.
"Becky… please. I need my friend back. I'm sorry if I did something. I'll come to you. Or you can come here. Just… I miss you. Our sleepovers, the talks, everything. Please Don't shut me out."
Becky's throat tightened. "Maya, it's not you. Imani's right—we're two different worlds. I need to focus more on my Scholarship,I have alot of Books to read . That's it. You didn't do anything wrong to me. I just wanted to focus
Maya sobbed harder. "I'll do anything. Please can you Come tomorrow? How about a Quick visit. My driver will pick you and drop you back before anyone knows. Please. You're my realest friend."
Hours of pleading later—voice notes, crying selfies, promises—Becky caved. "Okay. Tomorrow afternoon. But Imani can't know. She'll kill me."
Aunty Rose overheard from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her wrapper. "Becky, what are you doing,it a no from me .
Call your sister,ask for permission before going,
That house is not for us.
Mrs. Anderson… that woman no dey play with poor people. And that Ivy girl? Snake."
Becky hugged her. "Just one hour okay,Aunty.
Quick in and out.
I know Imani won't agree.
I'll be back before she lands from Abuja. I Promise."
Saturday afternoon, the pink G-Wagon dropped Becky at the Banana Island gates. She wore her newest outfit from the mall trip—simple but pretty. Heart hammering, she walked up the marble driveway.
Mrs. Temi Anderson and Ivy Lukeman were on the veranda having a small conversation, gisting about instagram posts
Maya's other elite friends were present —laughing over champagne and Instagram stories. The moment they saw Becky, the laughter died into smirks.
Ivy's perfectly glossed lips curled. "Oh look.
The little Surulere charity case is back. Still hunting for handouts?"
Mrs. Temi—elegant in white linen, diamonds flashing—rose slowly.
"Hey!!!!
and who let this one in?
Is she Maya's latest project?
Darling,
we don't do beggars here.
Your sister already tried that .
Aren't you the one The whole country knows your family history now.
A Debtor father, that paralyzed your mother…
Your sister is running after my son like a leech."
And here you here after my daughter
What is wrong with you girls
You and your sister must have some real issues
Don't you have something to do with your time and yourself.
You are just like a dog.
One finger snapped and you are running to your owner for scraps
What are you ?!!!!
Becky froze, cheeks burning. "I—I just came to see Maya. She invited me."
Laughter rippled.
Ivy stepped closer,
voice sugar-sweet poison.
"Invited? Or did you beg your way in like your sister begs Damian? Run along, little girl.
This compound isn't a welfare office."
They didn't even let her reach the door. Security was called. "Escort this peasant out and the next time I see her here again or near my compound again kiss your job goodbye ,"
Mrs. Temi said calmly, as if discussing the weather.
Ivy recorded the whole thing on her phone, laughing. Someone else—probably one of the friends—went live. The video exploded: Becky being walked out like trash, head down, tears already falling, while Ivy and Mrs. Temi waved mockingly behind her.
Maya bounded down the stairs seconds too late, still in her pyjamas, her r earphones in,she was happy that Becky is coming,
Without knowing the damage has been done
The veranda was full of laughter.
"What's so funny?"
she asked?!!
Her mother turned, bougie smile in place. "Oh, nothing, darling. I simply sent that little peasant beggar home. We don't need her kind sniffing around Anderson money."
Maya's world tilted. For the first time in her life, she snapped—voice cracking like thunder.
You did what mother!!
What have you done!!
She run outside thinking she might still catch up with Becky
But she was too late
She run back inside
with tears in her eye
She turn to her mother and shouted
"You're a bully, Mum. A straight-up bully!,why do you have to chase her away
She was my friend !!
Am never spot you again
And you" she whirled on Ivy, eyes blazing "—my brother Damian will NEVER marry you. Not in a million years. I can't stand you. Keep your obsession and your fake sympathy.
She turned to the group of friends. "All of you get out!!!!,Now
Don't ever text me again
Don't call me.
Yall should Delete my number.
Phones were snatched, she threw their bags outside before she slammed the door,
She turned and looked at her mother and said
Am never speaking to you ever again
The house went silent except for Maya's sobs as she ran upstairs, dialing Becky number frantically.
Becky didn't pick up. She was already in a keke napep, tears streaming, convinced Maya had set her up.
The video was everywhere—trending with captions:
"Anderson family drags Surulere girl 😂 Gold-digger junior edition."
Her phone buzzing nonstop.
Threats.
Mockery.
She called Aunty Rose, voice broken.
"Aunty… please come pick me. Please Anuty
Am at the junction.
Don't tell Manny. She'll blame herself. Promise me."
Aunty Rose arrived within twenty minutes,
She saw Becky her eyes were red .
She hugged Becky
They entered another keke going home
She was comforting her
in the back seat,
stroking her braids.
"I won't tell her today. But this secret no go last, my child. I warned you!!
Rich people dey chop poor people for breakfast."
Back in Abuja, Damian's phone rang at 11:47 p.m.—Maya, called him
"Brother…she was sobbing uncontrollably
Mum and Ivy humiliated Becky today.
The Video is everywhere.
I snapped at them.
I called Mum a bully,
she's a bully.
I told Ivy you'll never marry her.
Becky thinks I set her up.
She won't pick my calls.
Please Help me Fix this.
Please!!.
I can't lose her."
Damian's blood turned to ice. He stared at the connecting door.
He replied,
I Will fix it,
try and rest,
I will be back before you know it
On the other side, Imani's phone lit up with the same video. Her sister—walked out like garbage.being Mocked. Recorded,like a thief they caught stealing
She pressed her face into the pillow, shoulders shaking. The heat from earlier with Damian felt like a cruel joke now. Everything was breaking.
And she was done letting it touch them.
The connecting door stayed locked.
But Damian's fist hovered again—rage, guilt, and that burning want twisting tighter than ever.
He was packing his bags
The next minute
The connecting door burst open