Chapter 2 - Madam Billionaire Becomes a Village JokeBy sunrise, the entire village knew.

News traveled through the compound walls before Ebere had even finished boiling water.

By eight in the morning, everyone knew the billionaire's wife had been beaten, divorced, thrown out of a mansion, and rejected by her own mother.

Some people pitied Chioma.

Most did not.

“That's what pride does.”

“She thought she was better than everyone.”

“She married money and forgot her family.”

“Now she is back where she started.”

Ebere pretended not to hear them.

But Chioma heard everything.

She wrapped an old black cloth around herself and covered her bruised face with a scarf.

“I am going to the chemist,” she said.

Ebere did not look up.

“You know the way.”

Chioma stood there for a moment.

“Mama.”

Silence.

“You really don't want me here?”

Ebere kept counting money.

“You already know the answer.”

Chioma swallowed her tears and walked away.

She had barely reached the village road when laughter began.

A group of women sat beneath a cashew tree.

One of them recognized her.

“Isn't that Chioma?”

Another stood.

“Madam Billionaire!”

The women burst out laughing.

“Where is your mansion?”

“Where is your driver?”

“Where is Donald?”

Chioma kept walking.

A man shouted from across the road.

“Madam, please don't forget us poor villagers!”

More laughter.

Chioma lowered her head.

The same road she once crossed in expensive dresses and high heels now felt like a courtroom.

At the chemist shop, the attendant stared at her bruises.

“My God.”

Chioma looked down.

“Painkillers.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Everyone says Donald beat you.”

Chioma's eyes flashed.

“Give me the medicine.”

The woman handed it over.

Chioma paid and left.

On the way home, she stopped beneath a large mahogany tree.

The memories came.

Emeka.

His smile.

His old motorbike.

The tiny room he once rented.

The way he used to bring her roasted corn after work.

The way he had once told her, “I may not have much, Chioma, but I will never make you feel like you are alone.”

She had laughed at him.

“You cannot even afford the life I deserve.”

Then Donald had entered her world.

Expensive cars.

Luxury hotels.

Designer handbags.

A house with marble floors.

She chose Donald.

She broke Emeka's heart.

Now Donald was gone.

And somehow, the memory of Emeka hurt more than all her bruises.

Chioma sank onto the dirt.

“I was stupid,” she whispered.

Someone behind her answered.

“No.”

Chioma turned.

Mr. Nwosu was standing there.

Her father's oldest friend.

He had watched her grow up.

“You were not stupid,” he said.

She wiped her tears.

“Then what was I?”

“Desperate to be loved by people who measured love in money.”

Chioma stared at him.

“Do you know where Emeka is?”

Mr. Nwosu's face changed.

“You should not be asking that question here.”

“Why?”

“Because some questions have ears.”

Chioma stood.

“What does that mean?”

He looked around.

Then he lowered his voice.

“Do you still have the old gold pendant Emeka gave you?”

Chioma touched her neck.

The pendant was hidden beneath her wrapper.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

Mr. Nwosu stepped closer.

“Because Emeka left something with me.”

Chioma's heart began pounding.

“What?”

Before he could answer, a black SUV appeared at the end of the road.

It slowed.

Mr. Nwosu's expression hardened.

“Go home.”

“Who is that?”

“Now.”

Chioma turned.

The SUV stopped several houses away.

A man stepped out.

He wore a dark suit despite the heat.

He looked directly at Chioma.

Then he raised his phone.

He took a photograph.

Chioma froze.

The man immediately walked back into the SUV.

The vehicle disappeared.

“Who was that?” she asked.

Mr. Nwosu did not answer.

Instead, he looked toward the road and said quietly:

“They have found you.”

“Who?”

“Donald.”

Chioma's blood ran cold.

“He's in Lagos.”

“Donald is not the one I am talking about.”

Chioma stared.

Mr. Nwosu reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny sealed envelope.

“This belongs to you.”

She opened it.

Inside was a handwritten note.

Her eyes widened as she recognized the handwriting.

Emeka.

The note contained only one sentence.

WHEN CHIOMA COMES HOME, DON'T LET EBERE SEND HER AWAY.

Chioma's hands trembled.

“How did he know I would come back?”

Mr. Nwosu looked at her.

“Because Emeka knew your mother better than you ever did.”

Chioma stared at him.

“What are you saying?”

He stepped backward.

“I am saying that the reason Emeka disappeared was not because he stopped loving you.”

“Then why did he disappear?”

Mr. Nwosu looked toward Ebere's house.

“Because someone paid him to.”

Chioma's breath caught.

“Who?”

Mr. Nwosu did not answer.

He simply walked away.

Behind Chioma, her mother's voice suddenly echoed from the road.

“Chioma!”

She turned.

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Ebere was standing at the gate.

And she was staring directly at the envelope in Chioma's hand.