Chapter 3

Amaka’s POV

After breakfast I left the kitchen, stepped out of the rented apartment, and headed for the busy road.

Luckily a yellow bus pulled up almost at once. I boarded and sat beside a tall man in a black suit. He smiled at me.

I was too preoccupied to return it. After what Joseph had done, I limited my smiles for any man. The pain still cut deep—he should have admitted he only wanted sex instead of promising marriage.

I had been a decent girl in my area. That made me the laughing stock when I got pregnant; no one expected a “good girl” like me to fall.

I wiped the moisture from my eyes and fixed my gaze on the road. The man beside me spoke quietly.

“Hi. I’ve paid your fare.”

“Huh,” I turned, startled that a stranger would cover my bill. His face made me gulp. Fair-skinned like me, short brown hair like my son’s. Handsome. Masculine. Not Joseph Ericson—but close enough to unsettle me.

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t have. I don’t need favours from strangers,” I replied as the bus rolled on.

“I understand. Still, I couldn’t help noticing your beauty. Do you live around here, or where are you headed?”

“Hm…” I grimaced. I hated when men poked their noses into my affairs.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything about myself. People get kidnapped these days. Trusting a stranger is a risk.” My voice stayed low so the other passengers wouldn’t overhear.

“Fine. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I looked away.

“Industrial estate! Anyone getting down?” the driver called.

“Yes, sir.”

I stepped off. The man in the black suit followed. My brows furrowed—didn’t he have a job at this hour?

I moved to pay the conductor, but he waved me off. “Your husband already paid.”

“What? He’s not my husband,” I corrected sharply.

The conductor gasped. “Oh—sorry, madam. But the two of you resemble.”

“Whatever.” I turned and strode toward J.E. Global.

I ignored the man walking beside me, certain he would peel off once I reached the gate. Instead he flashed an ID and the security guards let him through. I was still stopped.

“What do you want, madam?” the guard asked.

“I’m here for an interview.” I showed him the email on my phone. He finally waved me in.

Inside the lobby we waited for the boss. The company was every bit as strict as Maureen had warned. I hadn’t researched it—naive of me.

About ten of us sat on the long guest chairs while clients moved in and out of the building. I stayed nervous, still wondering about the man from the bus. There was no way the real boss of J.E. Global would ride public transport. I could afford a small car myself, but I refused to buy one. Earning more than Maureen already felt risky; I didn’t want her thinking I was competing.

At nine the boss finally arrived. I kept my head down while the other candidates whispered.

Anita Edward, our coach, appeared with a folder and addressed us.

“Welcome to J.E. Global Enterprises. We do not tolerate cheating or breach of contract. We expect every staff member to keep our name high so other brands will want to partner with us. I’ll hand out consent forms. Once you sign, you accept our terms. Then I’ll assign each of you a mentor. But first you go in one by one for an interview with the boss. If he approves you, you may sign. Agreed?”

I swallowed hard.

“Amaka Richard. You’re next.”

I snapped out of my thoughts, stood, and smoothed my red top and black skirt.

“Ma, may I take my handbag in?”

“No. Come with me.” She led me to a safe where I could lock it and keep the key.

“Thank you, Ma.”

“Hurry. Don’t keep the boss waiting.”

I gulped, walked to the fifth-floor office, drew a deep breath, and stepped inside.

My eyes landed on the dark-skinned man in the black suit seated behind the wide desk.

“What?!” I gasped.

Joseph Ericson—the boss of J.E. Global. Why hadn’t I researched the company? How had I missed this?

I tried to look away, ready to turn and leave. He regarded me with complete indifference, as if we had never met.

“Are you Amaka Richard?” he asked, pretending not to know me.

*Had I changed that much? How could he fail to recognise me after only four years?*

My lips trembled. “Jo… Joseph. You own this company?” Tears pricked my eyes.

“Excuse me. Have we met before?”

I shook my head. If he wanted to pretend, I would pretend too. We had dated one year before he vanished. How could he not know me?