That night, the house was alive with music and laughter, but Adaora's heart was heavy with dread. Emeka's guests had arrived in luxury cars, their expensive suits glinting under the mansion's golden lights. They were powerful men—politicians, business tycoons, and elites. The air was thick with cigar smoke and an underlying tension that Adaora couldn't ignore.
Emeka had insisted she wear a red dress, one that hugged her curves and made her stand out like a queen. But instead of feeling beautiful, she felt like a prize on display. As the night wore on, Adaora noticed how the men's eyes lingered on her. Their gazes were not of admiration but calculation, as though they were appraising her worth for something sinister.
"Emeka," she whispered when she found him alone in the hallway, "I'm not comfortable with these people. Who are they?"
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry yourself, my love. They are just business associates. Go back to the party and enjoy yourself."
She wanted to press him further, but the hardness in his tone stopped her. Adaora returned to the grand living room, but her unease grew. She lingered near the bar, pretending to sip her drink while trying to piece together the puzzle of what was happening around her.
As she turned toward the stairs, she heard fragments of a conversation between two men standing by the balcony.