SERENA'S DIARY

Abuja, Nigeria. 6:17 a.m.

"SERENA! OPEN THIS DOOR!"

The violent banging against the front door shook the little house.

Serena Chiamaka Okafor jolted awake.

For a moment, she lay still, staring at the ceiling, hoping the noise would stop.

Then the voice came again.

"SERENA OKAFOR! I KNOW YOU PEOPLE ARE INSIDE!"

Oh, no.

Not again.

She grabbed her phone from beneath her pillow and checked the time.

6:17 a.m.

Her eyes widened.

"Jesus Christ!"

She threw off her blanket and scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the pair of slippers beside her mattress.

Another bang shook the door.

"OPEN THIS DOOR BEFORE I REMOVE IT FROM ITS HINGES!"

Serena hurried into the corridor, pulling her dressing gown around herself.

"Dad!" she shouted. "Dad, wake up!"

No response.

"DAD!"

From the sitting room came a groan.

"What's all this noise?"

Serena stopped in disbelief.

What's all this noise?

The landlord was practically trying to demolish their front door, and her father was asking what the noise was!

She rushed into the sitting room.

Graham Okafor lay sprawled across the old sofa, a rumpled shirt covering his chest. An empty bottle sat on the floor beside him.

"Dad, Mr. Eze is here!"

Her father opened one eye.

"Tell him I'm not around."

Serena stared at him.

"Are you serious?"

"Serena, please. It's too early for your shouting."

"MY shouting?"

The banging resumed.

"MR. OKAFOR! I WANT MY MONEY!"

Serena pressed both hands against her face.

They were finished.

Absolutely finished.

She hurried towards the door.

"Good morning, sir!" she called through it. "Please, give me a moment!"

"A moment for what? To manufacture my money?"

She unlocked the door.

Chief Emmanuel Eze stood outside in a crisp traditional shirt and trousers, his face twisted with anger. He was in his early sixties, broad-shouldered, and notorious among his tenants for his impatience.

He held a brown envelope in one hand.

Behind him, a young man was unloading bags of cement from a vehicle parked across the street.

The landlord glanced at Serena.

"Good morning?"

She swallowed.

"Good morning, sir."

"Is that how you people greet someone you owe money?"

"Sir, please—"

"Don't please me, Serena!"

He stepped into the doorway.

"Three months! Three whole months of unpaid rent! Every time I come here, it's the same story. Tomorrow. Next week. By the end of the month!"

Serena's heart hammered.

"I understand, sir."

"No, you don't understand!"

He held up the envelope.

"Do you know how many times I've written down your father's promises? I could open a stationery shop with them!"

Despite everything, a nervous laugh almost escaped Serena.

She swallowed it immediately.

The landlord pointed towards the sitting room.

"Where is your father?"

"He's—"

"Serena!"

Graham's voice came from behind her.

He appeared in the corridor, his expression dark.

"Why are you standing there allowing him to insult this family?"

Serena turned towards him.

"Then come and speak to him, Dad!"

Chief Eze gave a short, humourless laugh.

"Ah! Finally! The man of the house has decided to wake up."

Graham's jaw tightened.

"Watch your mouth, Eze."

"Watch my mouth?"

The landlord stepped forward.

"Pay me my money, and I'll watch whatever you want me to watch!"

"You're disturbing my family early in the morning!"

"And you're refusing to pay for the house your family sleeps in!"

The two men stared at each other.

Serena felt as though the walls were closing in.

"Please," she interrupted. "Please, both of you. Let's talk calmly."

Chief Eze turned towards her.

"Calmly? My daughter, if calmness could pay rent, I would have collected my money three months ago!"

He looked at Graham again.

"Listen to me carefully. I have been patient with you because I know you have children. But patience has limits."

Graham folded his arms.

"So what exactly do you want?"

"My rent!"

"I told you I would pay!"

"When?"

Graham said nothing.

The landlord nodded slowly.

"Exactly."

Then he switched into Igbo.

"Ego m! Achọrọ m ego m ugbu a!"

(My money! I want my money now!)

Serena flinched.

Chief Eze continued, his voice rising.

"Ụlọ a abụghị nke nna gị! Ị gaghị ebi ebe a n'efu!"

(This house does not belong to your father! You cannot live here for free!)

"Sir, biko!" Serena pleaded.

(Please, sir!)

He turned towards her.

"Serena, I have nothing against you. You know that. But how long do you expect me to carry this burden?"

Her throat tightened.

"We're trying, sir."

"Trying is not paying."

"I have an interview today. I'm looking for work. If I get a job—"

"An interview?"

He shook his head.

"Will the company pay your rent before employing you?"

Serena fell silent.

The question struck harder than she expected.

Chief Eze sighed.

"Look at me, my daughter. I am not your enemy. But I have my own responsibilities."

He pointed at the door.

"Seven days. I will give you seven more days to make a payment and agree on a plan for the outstanding rent."

Graham scoffed.

"Seven days? You're threatening us now?"

The landlord rounded on him.

"Threatening you? My friend, I am telling you the truth! If you cannot pay, we will have to address your continued occupation of the property through the proper legal process!"

The words silenced the room.

Seven days.

Serena did not know where they would find the money.

She didn't even know how she would pay for transportation to her interview.

Chief Eze tucked the envelope beneath his arm.

"Seven days, Mr. Okafor. Do not make me come here again for the same discussion."

He turned to leave, then paused.

Looking at Serena, he said quietly, "I hope your interview goes well."

She managed a small nod.

"Thank you, sir."

He walked away.

Serena closed the door.

For several seconds, she remained with her hand on the lock.

Then she turned.

Graham was already walking back towards the sitting room.

"Dad!"

He stopped.

"Not now, Serena."

"Not now?"

She followed him.

"Did you hear what he said? Seven days! We have seven days!"

"And what do you expect me to do?"

"I don't know! Maybe start by taking responsibility!"

He turned sharply.

"Mind your tone!"

Serena stared at him.

Something inside her finally snapped.

"No! I'm tired of minding my tone! I'm tired of pretending everything is fine when it isn't!"

Her voice shook.

"I'm tired of waking up every morning wondering whether we'll still have a roof over our heads! I'm tired of explaining to the landlord why you can't pay! I'm tired of trying to find work while everybody expects me to fix everything!"

Graham's expression hardened.

"You think I asked for this life?"

"No, Dad! But you're living it, and so are we!"

Silence.

Her father looked at her as though he no longer recognised her.

Serena's eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall.

"I have an interview today. I have another one next week. I'm trying. I'm doing everything I can!"

"Then go and get the job," he snapped.

She stared at him.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do!"

"Then stop shouting and get ready!"

He walked away.

Serena stood in the middle of the sitting room, breathing heavily.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

"Unbelievable."

From the hallway, a sleepy voice spoke.

"Seri?"

She turned.

Jasper stood there in a faded basketball jersey, rubbing his eyes.

"Is the landlord gone?"

Serena quickly wiped her face.

"Yes."

"Did he come for the rent again?"

She nodded.

Jasper looked down.

"How much do we owe?"

"Jasper, go and get ready for school."

"Serena."

"Please."

He studied her face.

Then he walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her.

She stiffened in surprise.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "I'll become a professional basketball player. I'll make enough money to take care of everyone."

Serena closed her eyes.

"Oh, Jasper."

"I'm serious."

"I know you are."

She held him tightly for a moment before pulling away.

"But right now, you need to concentrate on your education and your basketball. Let the adults handle the bills."

He nodded reluctantly.

Serena touched his cheek.

"Now go and get ready."

He disappeared down the hallway.

She remained standing in the sitting room.

Seven days.

Seven days to find money they didn't have.

Seven days to convince a landlord who had already lost patience.

Seven days to keep her family from losing their home.

She looked towards the window.

Outside, Abuja was waking up.

Cars moved along the road. Neighbours opened their shops. Somewhere nearby, a woman was calling out the price of fresh tomatoes.

The world was moving.

And Serena needed to move with it.

She hurried into her bedroom, opened her wardrobe, and pulled out her cream blouse and black skirt.

Today was another interview.

Another company.

Another chance.

She sat on the edge of her bed and opened her handbag.

Inside lay three copies of her CV, a small notebook, a pen, and a folded piece of paper containing the address of the company.

She checked the address again.

Then she whispered a prayer.

"God, please. I don't need everything to change today. Just give me one opportunity."

Her phone vibrated.

She picked it up.

An email notification appeared on the screen.

For one breathless second, hope rose inside her.

Perhaps it was a response from one of the companies she had applied to.

Perhaps—

She opened it.

SUBJECT: APPLICATION UPDATE

Dear Miss Okafor,

Thank you for your interest in the Administrative Assistant position. We regret to inform you that your application has not been successful.

Serena stared at the screen.

Then she read the message again.

And again.

Another rejection.

She lowered her phone.

For a moment, she could not move.

Then she let out a shaky breath and pressed her fingers against her forehead.

"God, please don't let me give up."

She had not even attended today's interview, and another door had already closed.

But she still had somewhere to be.

She still had a chance.

And she refused to surrender before she had even tried.

Serena stood, slipped on her shoes, picked up her handbag, and walked towards the front door.

She had no idea that the road she was about to take would eventually lead her into the world of a man whose name alone could open doors across Nigeria's wealthiest circles.

A man who lived in a world so far removed from hers that they might as well have belonged to different planets.

Nathaniel Alexander Kingsley.

The billionaire CEO of Sterling Crest Motors.

The man who believed money could solve almost any problem.

The man who had no intention of falling in love.

And the man who, one day, would look at Serena Chiamaka Okafor and realise that there were things his wealth could never buy.

But that day was still far away.

For now, Serena had seven days.

And a job interview to survive.

TO BE CONTINUED…