Her father, a man of few words, tried to counsel her. "Adaora, beauty fades. What matters is the content of a person's heart. Look for a man of good character."
"Papa, character doesn't pay bills," she would retort, rolling her eyes.
Her arrogance began to alienate even the suitors who adored her. Emeka, a local teacher, came bearing books and promises of a simple but happy life. She dismissed him with a laugh.
"Teacher Emeka? What will I do with your chalk-stained fingers? I want a man who wears suits, not uniforms."
Chinedu, a farmer whose yams fed half the village, was next. He arrived with gifts of tubers and earnest words.
"Chinedu," she said, barely looking at him. "Keep your yams for someone who eats bush meat. I'm meant for champagne."
Her parents despaired. Neighbors gossiped. But Adaora remained unmoved. She was determined to marry a multi-millionaire who could give her the luxurious life she deserved.