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### **1. Smoke in Her Veins**
Amara didn't sleep after the kiss.
Even in the stillness of the mansion, even with the air-conditioned hush and blackout curtains, her skin buzzed like it had touched lightning.
She wasn't supposed to feel anything.
This marriage wasn't supposed to become anything.
And yet… it had happened.
Not the kiss.
The betrayal of her own heart.
She sat by the window as the sun broke across the Lagos skyline, knees pulled to her chest. The city moved outside—traffic, vendors, ambition—but her world had narrowed down to two things:
Her.
And the man who refused to feel anything real.
---
### **2. Rumors and Rivals**
Later that afternoon, she received an email from her former class group chat.
> *"Mrs. Stone. Do we call you 'Ma' now or just 'boss lady'?"*
> *"No wonder she always passed Constitutional Law."*
> *"So you married the lecturer and secured your future? Mad oo."*
She didn't reply. She just closed the thread.
Then her phone vibrated.
A name she hadn't seen in over a year.
**Ikenna**.
A guy she used to work with in her paralegal internship—before everything fell apart.
> *"Saw the kiss. Guess you're living the dream now? We should catch up sometime."*
Her fingers hovered over the reply button.
Then deleted the message entirely.
---
### **3. The Rehearsal**
The next morning, Damian requested she meet him in the study.
She didn't want to go. But she did.
He was seated at his massive desk, dark eyes scanning legal files, dressed in a steel-grey shirt and no tie.
Still crisp. Still cold.
> "We have to prepare for the university's charity ball. They want both of us to attend."
> "Why me?"
> "You're my wife."
She stared at him. "You only remember that when the cameras are watching."
He looked up. "You're angry."
> "No. I'm exhausted. Of pretending. Of being used as a chess piece."
He folded his hands calmly. "You agreed to the game."
> "But I didn't agree to feel humiliated."
He rose slowly, walking around the desk. He stood in front of her, hands in pockets.
> "I'm not good at this."
> "At what?"
> "Relationships. People."
She raised an eyebrow. "That's convenient."
> "But I see you."
That made her breath catch.
> "And I can't ignore you, Amara. Even when I try."
Her heartbeat slowed. Sharpened.
But she didn't soften. Not yet.
> "Then stop trying."
---
### **4. A Fire Named Amara**
The night of the university ball was drenched in gold and crystal. Soft music, long gowns, tuxedos. Power in every corner.
Amara wore a wine-colored gown with an open back and gold thread embroidery. Her hair was swept into a graceful knot, her neckline bare.
When Damian saw her, something flickered in his expression.
But he said nothing.
As always.
They posed for photographs, gave cold smiles, and walked into the ballroom like a united front.
Halfway through the event, one of Damian's exes—an international lawyer named **Tasha**—approached.
> "Damian. Long time. Didn't know you liked the 'charity case' type now."
Amara's fingers tensed around her clutch.
Damian said nothing.
Tasha laughed, clearly drunk. "Or maybe you married her to feel powerful again. After what happened with your dad's will—"
> "Excuse me," Amara said softly.
She turned to Tasha and smiled—sweet and sharp.
> "I'm not here because he needs power. I'm here because I make my own."
> "You're still poor," Tasha hissed.
> "Maybe. But I don't beg for attention in designer heels and daddy's last name."
The air shifted.
Tasha stepped back.
And for the first time, Damian smiled.
Not the polite, press-friendly one.
But the real thing.
---
### **5. The Dance**
Later that night, after speeches and auctions, the dance floor opened.
Damian walked toward her, hand outstretched.
> "Dance with me."
She hesitated. "Why?"
> "Because if I don't, someone else will. And I'll break their wrist."
That made her laugh.
She placed her hand in his.
They moved slowly to the music—awkward at first, then fluid.
> "You were amazing earlier," he said.
> "You were silent."
> "I was watching you burn."
> "And?"
> "And I liked the heat."
She looked up at him.
> "Damian…"
> "Yes?"
> "What are we doing?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he leaned in slightly.
> "Crossing lines."
Her breath caught.
But before she could ask more, the lights flickered.
A voice rang out.
> "Amara Okeke. That name means something after all."
They turned to see a man in a black suit.
The rival.
From the shadows.
Smiling.
> "We should talk. You and I have a lot in common… Especially where your mother is concerned."
---
### **6. The Beginning of the Burn**
Later, back at the mansion, Amara stood in front of Damian's door.
> "Who is that man?"
> "A threat."
> "To me or to you?"
> "To both."
> "Why was he talking about my mother?"
> "Because there's something I haven't told you."
She swallowed hard.
> "Then tell me now."
Damian stepped closer.
His voice was low. Regretful.
> "I think our lives have been intertwined longer than we thought."
Amara's knees went weak.
> "What are you saying?"
> "I'm saying… this contract may have started with me trying to protect myself. But now… I don't know how to protect you.
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