Poor Orphan Girl Forced To Marry A DANGEROUS EX-CONVICT Unaware He’s A BILLIONAIRE CEO!

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From Grass to Grace: A Journey of Love and Redemption

Grace’s hands trembled as she watched the black police van pull up to the curb. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. The van door opened with a loud bang. Out stepped a tall, dark man in orange prison clothes. His hair was wild with long dreads, and his eyes were cold as midnight. When those dark eyes found hers, Grace felt her blood freeze.

“That’s him,” Victoria whispered behind her, barely containing her laughter. “That’s your husband-to-be.” Margaret giggled like a schoolgirl. “Look at Grace’s face. She’s about to faint.”

The man, Kelvin Hartman, walked straight toward Grace. Each step made her want to run. When he reached her, he extended his hand. “You must be Grace.” She stared at his outstretched hand, which looked like it could crush bones. Slowly, she placed her small hand in his. His grip was like steel—firm, unbreakable, like he could snap her fingers with one squeeze if he wanted to. Grace’s whole body shook. This was the man she was supposed to marry—an ex-convict with eyes that had seen too much darkness.

But how did Grace find herself standing here, about to marry a dangerous stranger she barely knew? Let me tell you a story that will make you question everything you think you know about family, sacrifice, and survival.

The Beginning

The smell of disinfectant burned Grace’s nose as she sat beside Papa Samuel’s hospital bed in Logos University Teaching Hospital. Her grandfather’s breathing was shallow, his skin gray like old newspaper. “Papa, please don’t leave me,” she whispered, squeezing his weak hand. The doctor had been clear: late-stage liver cancer. He needed surgery immediately, or he had maybe two weeks.

“Seeks and the surgery cost 200,000 naira.” Grace looked at her phone. Three missed calls from her boss at the restaurant where she worked nights. Five missed calls from her cleaning job supervisor. She had been missing work to stay with Papa Samuel. Her small savings account showed 8,000 naira—not even enough for one day in this hospital.

She stared at the number in her phone she hadn’t called in three years—Margaret, her mother. Grace’s finger hovered over the call button. Margaret had made it clear after Grace’s father died that she didn’t want a stepdaughter around. But Papa Samuel was Margaret’s father-in-law. Surely, she would help.

The phone rang three times. “What do you want, Grace?” Margaret’s voice was ice cold. “You only call when you need something.”

Grace took a deep breath. “Mama, it’s about Papa Samuel.”

“Don’t call me mama when you want money. What about the old man? He needs surgery immediately. The doctors say he has liver cancer, advanced stage.”

Silence. Grace could hear her mother breathing. “So, what do you want me to do? Did I make him sick?”

The cruelty in Margaret’s voice made Grace’s chest tight. “Mama, if you hadn’t taken Papa’s pension money after Daddy died, would Papa still be working three jobs at 70? Would he be this sick?”

“How dare you?” Margaret’s voice exploded through the phone. “I took that money to survive, to feed Victoria. You took it to buy that house in Victoria Island while Papa Samuel moved to a one-room apartment in Mushin. Your problems are not my problems, Grace.”

Grace felt tears burning her eyes. “I’ve maxed out all my credit cards. I work at the restaurant until 2:00 a.m., then clean offices from 5:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m., then tutor children until evening. I sleep four hours a night. I’m desperate. That’s why I called.”

“Then get another job.”

“Mama, please. I can write a promissory note. I’ll pay interest. I need 100,000 naira.”

“Why should my money save him?”

Then Grace heard Victoria’s voice in the background. “Sister Grace, let me talk to her, mama.” Victoria took the phone. “Grace, big sister, let’s discuss this calmly. It’s just 100,000, right?”

Hope sparked in Grace’s chest. “Victoria, thank you. I knew you would understand.”

“I have an idea. You marry Kelvin Hartman. The money for Papa’s treatment. I’ll handle it.”

Grace’s world tilted. “Kelvin Hartman? Your fiancé?”

Victoria laughed. “Grace, since we’re sisters, how can I not help you? The Hartman family owns half of Logos Island—hotels, shipping, oil business. If you marry Kelvin, you’ll never worry about money again.”

“But Victoria, he’s your man. You love him.”

“Kelvin got kicked out by his family six months ago. Everyone in Logos knows he’s been in and out of prison for fighting. There are videos online of him beating people bloody.”

Grace felt sick. “You want me to marry a violent criminal? Think about Papa Samuel.”

“Grace, do you want him to die because you’re scared?”

Margaret took the phone back. “Grace, Victoria is being generous. Both of you are my daughters. I care about you equally.”

Equally? Margaret had never visited Grace once in three years. “I need time to think.”

“Papa Samuel doesn’t have time,” Victoria said. “The surgery is needed this week.”

Grace looked at her grandfather’s pale face. His eyes opened slowly. “Grace, my child,” he whispered. “Don’t worry about me.”

“No, Papa. I won’t let you die.” She took the phone back. “Fine, I’ll marry Kelvin, but I have conditions.”

Margaret’s voice turned sharp. “You’re in no position to make demands. 200,000 naira, not 100.”

“Are you crazy? What if you run away with the money?”

“I’m not like you, mama. I don’t abandon family.”

Grace’s voice grew stronger. “20,000 now for Papa’s immediate care, the rest after the wedding.”

She heard Margaret and Victoria whispering. “Fine,” Margaret said. “But the wedding happens in three days.”

“That’s impossible. Kelvin gets released from prison tomorrow. He’s been there for assault charges.”

“The wedding is Friday or no deal.”

Grace’s blood went cold. “Prison? What did he do?”

“Beat up three men at a bar. Sent one to intensive care. But don’t worry, the charges were dropped. Rich family connections.”

The line went dead. Grace stared at her phone. She had just agreed to marry a violent stranger to save her grandfather’s life.

Her phone buzzed immediately. Unknown number. “Hello, Grace. This is Kelvin Hartman. Victoria gave me your number. We need to meet.”

Grace’s hand shook as she typed. “When?”

“Tomorrow. When I get out. Victoria will bring you to see me.”

That night, Grace couldn’t close her eyes. Every time she tried to sleep, she imagined Kelvin’s hands around her throat. What kind of man beats three people at once? What kind of animal was she about to marry? She looked at Papa Samuel sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks. “Papa, I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she whispered.

The next morning, Victoria arrived in her new BMW, wearing designer clothes that cost more than Grace made in six months. “Ready to meet your husband?” Victoria asked, her smile cruel.

“Why are you really doing this, Victoria? You claim you love Kelvin.”

Victoria’s laugh was bitter. “Love, Grace, grow up. Kelvin was useful when his family accepted him. Now he’s broke and dangerous. I found someone better, someone clean. So you’re throwing him to me like garbage. I’m giving you a chance to save Papa Samuel.”

“Stop being ungrateful.”

They drove through Lagos traffic toward a police station in Ikoyi. Victoria’s music was too loud, her perfume too strong. Everything about her seemed fake. “Victoria, what if Kelvin hurts me?”

“Then you’ll learn to be stronger. Marriage isn’t a fairy tale, Grace.”

At the police station, they waited outside by Victoria’s car. Other families were there too, waiting for their people to be released. Then Grace saw the van.

And now here she stood, Kelvin’s steel grip making her fingers numb, staring into the darkest eyes she had ever seen. “Afraid of me?” Kelvin asked quietly. His voice was deep and rough. Grace wanted to lie, but the truth came out. “Yes.”

Something flickered in his dark eyes—surprise, respect. “Good,” he said. “Fear keeps people alive.”

Victoria stepped forward. “Kelvin, meet Grace. Your new bride. Grace, meet Kelvin. Try not to make him angry.” Kelvin’s grip on Grace’s hand tightened slightly. Not painful, but firm, like a warning. “We need to talk,” he told Grace, alone.

Victoria laughed. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to get acquainted.”

Grace tried not to disappoint him. As Victoria and Margaret drove away, Grace found herself alone with a man who looked like he could kill someone with his bare hands. Kelvin studied her face for a long moment. “You’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect? Someone like Victoria? Greedy, fake?”

Grace lifted her chin. “I’m nothing like Victoria.”

“Then why are you marrying a stranger?”

Grace met his dark stare. “Why are you marrying me?”

Kelvin’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Because sometimes the devil you know is worse than the devil you don’t.”

Sometimes life forces us to choose between impossible options. Grace chose to trust a dangerous stranger rather than let her grandfather die. But what secrets was Kelvin hiding? And why did a man from Lagos’s richest family end up in prison clothes?

After leaving the police station, Kelvin brought Grace to a small apartment in Lekki Phase 1. Not the mansion she expected from Lagos’s richest family, but clean and simple. “This is where I live now,” Kelvin said, opening the door. “Not the Hartman estate in Ikoyi, but it’s home.”

Grace looked around. One bedroom, small kitchen, basic furniture. Everything was neat, organized. “Not what I expected from a violent criminal.”

“You’re surprised,” Kelvin observed.

“I thought it would be different—messier, more dangerous.”

Kelvin’s dark eyes studied her. “What else did Victoria tell you about me?”

Grace hesitated. “That you beat up three men, that you’re violent.”

Kelvin was quiet for a long moment. Then he walked to the kitchen and started making tea. His movements were careful, controlled. “The three men were trying to rape a girl outside a club,” he said without turning around. “She couldn’t have been more than 16. They had her cornered in an alley.”

Grace’s breath caught. “What?”

“I didn’t plan to fight them. I told them to stop. They laughed. Said they would make me watch.” Kelvin’s voice was flat, emotionless. “So, I stopped them.”

“You saved her.”

“I stopped them.” Kelvin brought Grace a cup of tea. “The girl ran away before police came. The three men were sons of politicians. Their story was that I attacked them for no reason.”

Grace studied Kelvin’s face. No pride, no boasting—just facts. “Why didn’t you tell the truth in court?”

“Who would believe an ex-convict over three rich boys?” Kelvin shrugged. “Besides, the truth doesn’t matter to people like your sister.”

Grace felt a chill. “What do you mean?”

“Victoria knows exactly who I am. She’s been planning this for months.”

“Planning what?”

Kelvin sat across from Grace. “Sit down. There are things you need to know before tomorrow.”

Grace’s legs felt weak. She sat. “Six months ago, my family discovered I had been secretly giving money to orphanages and schools in Mushin and Agege. Millions of naira.”

“That’s good, right?”

Kelvin’s laugh was bitter. “Not to the Hartman family. They said I was embarrassing them, wasting money on worthless people.”

Grace felt anger rising in her chest. “Worthless people? Those are children.”

“Exactly what I said. So they cut me off, froze all my accounts, kicked me out of the family business.”

“But you’re still their son.”

“To them, I’m a disappointment—a failure who cares more about street children than family profit.”

Grace was quiet, processing this. The man everyone called violent was actually helping children. “So, how do you survive?”

“I drive for ride-sharing apps. I do construction work. I survive.”

Grace looked around the simple apartment with new eyes. Kelvin Hartman, heir to billions, was living like a regular Lagos man because he chose to help children.

“Victoria knows all this.”

“Victoria knows everything. She also knows my family wants me to marry someone suitable to restore my reputation—someone they can control.”

The pieces clicked in Grace’s mind. “So, by marrying me, they’ll think I’m finally being responsible. Marrying a nice poor girl who needs saving makes them look good. And Victoria gets rid of you while helping her sister. She looks generous.”

“Now you understand.”

Grace felt sick. “We’re both being used.”

“Yes, but Grace.” Kelvin leaned forward. “I meant what I said at the station. Sometimes the devil you know is worse than the devil you don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your family sold you to save an old man. My family wants to use me to save their reputation. At least we know we’re both trapped.”

Grace stared at her tea. Steam rose between them like a barrier. “Are you really violent?” she asked quietly.

“I can be when I need to be—to protect people who can’t protect themselves.”

Something in his voice made Grace look up. “Will you hurt me?”

“Never.”

“How can I believe you?”

“Because you’re not my enemy, Grace. You’re my partner in this prison.”

That evening, Grace returned to Papa Samuel’s hospital room. The old man was sitting up, looking stronger. “Papa, you look better.”

“The medicine is helping, but Grace, my child, I’m worried about you.”

Grace sat beside his bed. “Don’t worry about me, Papa. This marriage—are you sure?”

Grace had been dreading this conversation. “Papa, it’s the only way to save you.”

“I don’t want to be saved if it costs you your happiness.”

Tears filled Grace’s eyes. “Papa, you raised me after Daddy died. When Mama abandoned me, you were there. You taught me to read, to be strong. Let me save you now.”

Papa Samuel took her hand with his frail fingers. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“If this man hurts you, you leave. My life is not worth your suffering.”

“He won’t hurt me, Papa.” But even as she said it, Grace wondered if she was lying to them both.

The next morning, Victoria picked Grace up early. “Wedding day,” Victoria sang. “Are you excited?”

Grace had barely slept. “Where are we going?”

“First to get your dress, then hair and makeup. Tonight you become Mrs. Kelvin Hartman.”

They drove to an expensive boutique in Victoria Island—the kind of place Grace had only seen in magazines. Inside, dresses hung like dreams—silk, lace, crystals. Each one cost more than Grace made in a year.

“We want the best,” Victoria announced to the boutique owner. “Money is no object.”

The woman smiled until she saw Grace. Her expression changed immediately. “I’m sorry, but we require full payment before trying on any dresses.”

Grace felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “How much?” Victoria asked.

“Our premium collection starts at 100,000 naira.”

Victoria’s smile faded. “That’s expensive. Perhaps there’s another boutique more suitable for your budget.”

Grace wanted to disappear. This was exactly why she hated being around Victoria’s world. Then the boutique door opened. Kelvin walked in wearing a simple black shirt and jeans, but something about him made the entire boutique go quiet.

“Good morning,” he said politely to the owner. “My wife needs a wedding dress.”

The woman’s face went pale. “Mister, Mr. Hartman, you know me.”

“Of course, sir. We didn’t realize. Please, anything you need.”

Suddenly, the woman was all smiles and bowing. Grace watched in amazement as the same person who had looked down on her now treated her like royalty.

“Show her everything,” Kelvin said simply.

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

As the woman rushed to bring dresses, Grace whispered to Kelvin, “She’s scared of you.”

“Not me, my family name. Even though they rejected me, the name still has power.”

Grace tried on dress after dress. Each one was more beautiful than the last. But she felt like she was playing dress-up for someone else’s life. Finally, she found the one—simple, elegant, perfect. The price tag made her dizzy. 160,000 naira. The owner said, “Full payment required.”

Grace’s heart sank. That was almost Papa Samuel’s entire surgery cost.

“Don’t worry about the price,” Kelvin said quietly. “My wife deserves the best.” He pulled out a card and paid without blinking.

As they left the boutique, Grace felt overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. You’re going to be my wife. Even if it’s not a real marriage, you deserve to feel beautiful.”

“But the money—”

“Grace, I may be poor by Hartman’s standards, but I’m not completely broke. Let me do this one thing right.”

That afternoon, Victoria took Grace to a salon—hair, makeup, nails. Grace had never been pampered like this. “You look like a princess,” the makeup artist said. But Grace felt like she was being prepared for sacrifice.

Evening came too quickly. Grace stood in the dressing room at the church, wearing her beautiful dress, looking like someone else. Victoria knocked on the door. “Ready, sister?”

“No.”

“Too bad, it’s time.”

Grace walked down the aisle toward Kelvin. He stood at the altar in a black suit, looking handsome and dangerous. His dark eyes never left her face.

The pastor spoke about love, commitment, faithfulness—words that meant nothing in this arranged marriage. “Do you, Kelvin, take Grace to be your wife?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Grace, take Kelvin to be your husband?”

Grace looked at Kelvin’s face. In his dark eyes, she saw understanding. They were both trapped, but they were trapped together. “I do.”

“You may kiss the bride.” Kelvin stepped closer. His hands were gentle as he lifted her veil. For a moment, Grace forgot to be afraid. The kiss was soft, brief, but something passed between them in that moment—a promise, an understanding.

“I pronounce you husband and wife.” The small crowd applauded. Margaret and Victoria smiled like they had accomplished something wonderful. But Grace felt like she had just signed her life away.

As they greeted their guests, Grace noticed something that made her blood freeze. Margaret and Victoria wore smug grins. Why did they look so satisfied, like they had just won a game Grace didn’t know she was playing? What had she gotten herself into?

Grace stood in the small apartment bathroom, still wearing her wedding dress. Through the thin walls, she could hear Lagos traffic and distant music from a neighbor’s radio. Her reflection in the cracked mirror looked like a stranger. She was married now—Mrs. Grace Hartman. The name felt heavy on her tongue.

A soft knock on the bathroom door made her jump. “Grace, are you okay in there?” Kelvin’s voice was gentle, but Grace’s heart still raced. This was it—her wedding night with a man she barely knew.

“I’m fine,” she called back, though her voice shook. “Take your time. I’ll be in the living room.”

Grace heard his footsteps move away. She took a deep breath and opened the door. Kelvin was sitting on the small couch, still in his wedding suit but with the tie loosened. He looked up when she emerged. “You look tired,” he observed.

“It’s been a long day.”

“Grace, we need to talk about sleeping arrangements.”

Grace’s stomach twisted with nervousness. “What about them?”

Kelvin stood up slowly, his movements careful, non-threatening. “You take the bedroom; I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Grace blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I know this isn’t a real marriage. You’re scared of me, and you have every right to be. I won’t make this harder for you than it already is.”

Relief flooded through Grace so strongly her knees almost buckled. “You’re not going to…”

“No, never without your permission. And probably not even then considering the circumstances.”

Grace studied his face. “Why are you being kind to me?”

“Because someone should be.”

The simple answer hit Grace harder than any grand speech. When was the last time someone had been kind to her just because she deserved it? “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t thank me for basic human decency.”

That night, Grace lay in Kelvin’s bed while he slept on the couch. The sheets smelled like soap and something masculine but clean. She stared at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of Lagos at night. Tomorrow, she would have to face her new life. But tonight, for the first time in months, she felt safe.

The next morning, Grace woke to the smell of coffee and something cooking. She found Kelvin in the small kitchen making breakfast. “Good morning, Mrs. Hartman,” he said with a slight smile.

“Don’t call me that. It sounds strange.”

“You’ll get used to it. Coffee?”

Grace accepted the cup gratefully. “You cook?”

“Basic survival skills. Scrambled eggs and toast. Nothing fancy.”

Grace watched him move around the kitchen with easy efficiency. “Where did you learn?”

“Prison, mostly. And living alone these past six months.”

The casual mention of prison should have scared Grace, but somehow it didn’t. Not anymore. “Kelvin, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Yesterday you said sometimes the devil you know is worse than the devil you don’t. What did you mean?”

Kelvin was quiet for a moment, flipping eggs in the pan. “Your family sold you to save an old man, but they’re still your family. You know exactly how cruel they can be. And you—I’m a stranger. You don’t know what I’m capable of. That’s scary. But it also means you don’t have years of disappointment and betrayal clouding your judgment.”

Grace considered this. “So you think we have a chance?”

“I think we have honesty. That’s more than most married couples start with.”

After breakfast, Grace’s phone rang. Margaret.

“Grace. How was your wedding night?”

Her mother’s voice was sickeningly sweet.

“Fine, mama.”

“Good. Now, listen carefully. The Hartman family is having a welcome dinner for you tonight. You need to make a good impression.”

Grace’s stomach dropped. “Tonight? But I don’t have anything to wear. I don’t know how to act around rich people.”

“Figure it out. This is important for our family’s reputation.”

“What do you mean our family’s reputation?”

“Since you married into the Hartman family, people see the whole James family differently now. Don’t embarrass us.”

The line went dead. Grace stared at her phone in disbelief. “Bad news?” Kelvin asked.

“Your family wants to meet me tonight. Some welcome dinner.”

Kelvin’s expression darkened. “They didn’t waste any time.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they want to see what kind of wife I’ve brought home. They want to evaluate you.”

Grace felt panic rising. “I can’t do this. I don’t know anything about their world.”

“Grace, look at me.” She met his dark eyes. “You survived growing up with Margaret and Victoria. You worked three jobs to pay for your grandfather’s care. You married a dangerous stranger to save someone you love. Do you really think my family is scarier than what you’ve already faced?”

Grace thought about it. “When you put it that way…”

“Besides, I’ll be there. We’re a team now. Remember?”

That afternoon, Kelvin took Grace shopping in Victoria Island. Not to the expensive boutique where they’d bought her wedding dress, but to a more modest store. “We need to be careful with money,” he explained. “I have enough saved for emergencies, but I’m not rich anymore. For now, anyway.”

Grace found a simple lilac dress that made her look elegant without being flashy. “Perfect,” Kelvin said when she showed him. “You look beautiful, but not like you’re trying too hard.”

“Is that important?”

“With my family, everything is important. They’ll judge your clothes, your speech, your posture, how you hold your fork.”

Grace felt overwhelmed. Maybe this was a mistake.

“Hey.” Kelvin took her hands gently. “Remember what I said about being a team?”

Grace nodded.

“Then trust me. I know these people. I know their games. Just follow my lead.”

That evening, they took a taxi to the Hartman family mansion in Ikoyi. Grace had seen pictures of houses like this in magazines, but experiencing it in person was different. The gates were massive, the compound enormous.

“This is where you grew up?” Grace whispered as they approached the front door.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

The door was opened by a uniformed servant who bowed slightly to Kelvin. “Master Kelvin, welcome home. The family is waiting in the dining room.”

As they walked through marble hallways lined with expensive art, Grace felt like she was entering another world. Everything was perfect, polished, cold. The living room was enormous, with cushions that could seat 20 people, but only three people sat in them. An elderly man with sharp eyes, an elegant woman with red hair, and a younger lady who looked like she belonged in a fashion magazine.

“Father,” Kelvin said formally. “Thank you for inviting us.”

The elderly man’s eyes swept over Grace like she was an item in a shop he was considering buying. “So this is your new wife?”

“Yes, sir. This is Grace.”

Grace felt all eyes on her as she stepped forward. “Good evening, sir. Thank you for welcoming me into your family.” She had practiced the words with Kelvin, but they still felt awkward in her mouth.

“Sit down, both of you.”

Dinner was an ordeal. Seven courses served by silent servants while Kelvin’s family asked Grace question after question. “Where did you go to school, Grace?”

“Lagos State University.”

“And what did you study?”

“Accounting.”

“And what work do you do?”

Grace hesitated. Should she mention her three jobs—the restaurant, the cleaning, the tutoring? “I work in customer service,” she said finally.

Kelvin’s mother, Mrs. Patricia Hartman, smiled coldly. “How practical.”

The younger woman who had been introduced as Kelvin’s sister, Sandra, leaned forward. “And your family, Grace? What business are they in?”

“My stepfather works in construction.”

“Construction,” Mr. Hartman repeated slowly. “I see.”

Grace felt like a bug under a microscope. Every answer seemed to disappoint them more. “Tell me, Grace,” Mr. Hartman said as dessert was served. “What made you want to marry my son?”

The question hung in the air like a trap. Grace felt Kelvin tense beside her. He put an arm around her as if cautioning her to be careful while comforting her at the same time. She could lie, say she loved him, but something in the old man’s eyes told her he would see through any lie.

“I needed help,” she said quietly. “And Kelvin needed a wife. We made a practical arrangement.”

The table went completely silent. Grace wondered if she had just ruined everything. Then Mr. Hartman smiled—not warmly, but with approval. “Honesty. I respect that.” He turned to Kelvin. “She’s not what I expected.”

“No, sir.”

“Better or worse?”

Kelvin looked at Grace for a moment. “Different.”

After dinner, Mr. Hartman asked to speak with Kelvin privately. Grace waited in the sitting room with the women. “So, Grace,” Mrs. Hartman said sweetly. “How are you finding married life?”

“It’s an adjustment, ma.”

“I’m sure it is. Kelvin can be difficult.”

Sandra laughed. “That’s putting it mildly. Did he tell you about his time in prison?”

“Yes, ma.”

“And you married him anyway?”

Sandra’s voice was full of fake concern. “How brave of you.”

Grace felt like she was being circled by sharks. “Kelvin is a good man.”

“Is he?” Mrs. Hartman asked. “How can you be sure? You barely know him. I know enough.”

“Do you know about his temper, the fights, the drinking?”

Grace’s heart started racing. “Drinking?”

“Oh yes. Kelvin has quite a problem with alcohol. Didn’t he tell you? It’s what led to most of his incidents?”

Sandra nodded sympathetically. “We worry about him, and now we have to worry about you too.”

Grace felt like the room was spinning. Was Kelvin an alcoholic? Had he lied to her about everything?

Twenty minutes later, Kelvin returned with his father. His face was grim. “Ready to go?” he asked Grace. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

In the taxi back to their apartment, Grace was quiet. “How bad was it?” Kelvin asked.

“They said you have a drinking problem.”

Kelvin sighed heavily. “Grace, I need to tell you something.”

Grace’s heart sank. Another lie. “I did have a drinking problem two years ago after I started giving money to the orphanages and my family began turning against me.”

Grace felt betrayed. “You should have told me.”

“You’re right. I should have. But Grace, I’ve been sober for 18 months. I haven’t touched alcohol since before my first arrest.”

“How can I believe you?”

“Because I’m telling you now when I don’t have to. Because I could have kept lying.”

Grace stared out the taxi window at Lagos rushing past. How many more secrets was her husband hiding? “What else haven’t you told me?”

“Nothing that affects you directly. But Grace, there’s something you need to know about tonight.”

“What?”

“My father offered me a deal.”

Grace’s stomach clenched. “What kind of deal?”

“If I stay married to you for one year, he’ll give me back my position in the company. Full access to my trust fund. Everything.”

Grace felt like she’d been slapped. “So, I’m what? A business investment?”

“That’s what he thinks. But, Grace, what I told you yesterday hasn’t changed. We’re still partners in this.”

“Partners in what?”

“Your redemption. Partners in survival.”

Grace was quiet for the rest of the ride home. When they reached their apartment, she went straight to the bedroom and closed the door. She sat on the bed, still in her black dress, and tried to process everything. Her husband was a recovering alcoholic. His family saw her as a test. Everyone was using everyone.

But when she remembered how gently Kelvin had treated her, how he’d slept on the couch to make her comfortable, how he defended her during dinner, maybe being used by Kelvin was still better than being abandoned by her real family.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Grace, I made tea.” She opened the door. Kelvin stood there with two cups, looking tired and sad. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the drinking. I should have been completely honest from the beginning.”

Grace took the tea. “Why weren’t you?”

“Because I was afraid you’d change your mind about marrying me, and your grandfather needed that surgery.”

Grace sat on the bed. Kelvin sat on the floor, keeping distance between them. “One year?” she asked.

“That’s what he offered.”

“And then what? You get your money back and divorce me?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

Grace studied his face in the lamplight. “You could have anyone, Kelvin. Why stay married to someone you barely know?”

“Because,” Kelvin said quietly, “you’re the first person in two years who’s treated me like I’m worth something—even when you were scared of me.”

Grace felt something shift in her chest. Not love—not yet—but understanding. “Eighteen months sober. Eighteen months. And if you drink again, then you leave. No questions asked.”

Grace nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay. One year. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

Kelvin’s smile was small but real. “Partners.”

“Partners.”

Their moment was cut short by her phone ringing. “Hello, Grace. It’s me.” Papa Samuel’s weak voice made her sit up immediately. “Papa, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, my child, but there’s something I need to tell you. Your mother came to see me yesterday.”

Grace’s blood went cold. “Margaret came to the hospital? Why?”

“She brought papers for me to sign. Said they were for insurance to help with my medical bills.”

“What kind of papers?”

Papa Samuel coughed softly. “I didn’t understand them properly. Too many big words. But Grace, something felt wrong about the whole thing.”

Grace was already getting out of bed. “Papa, do you still have the papers?”

“She took them after I signed. Said she would handle everything.”

Grace felt sick. Margaret never helped anyone without expecting something in return. “Papa, I’m coming to see you right now.”

Kelvin took one look at Grace’s face and knew something was wrong. “What happened?”

“My mother made Papa Samuel sign some papers yesterday. I don’t know what they were, but I have a bad feeling.”

Kelvin set down his coffee cup. “Want me to come with you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Grace, we’re partners. Remember, what affects you affects me now.”

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