Pure Blood (DARAH MURNI)

Zara Adigun looked blankly at the cracked ceiling of the hospital room, the sterile air with fear. The relentless beeping echoed beside her father’s bed like a grim lullaby to her thoughts. How did everything fall apart?

Twelve months ago, Adigun & Co was a household name in the Nigerian construction industry. Her father had been a visionary,ethical, passionate, and goal driven leader. But one dishonest partner and a failed government contract later, the legacy he had built teetered on the edge of ruin. And now, here he lay, his once-energetic voice silenced by a stroke, his future held hostage by mounting hospital bills and lawsuits.

Zara squeezed his lifeless hand. “I’m going to make things right, Daddy. I promise you.”

A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts. She turned to find her mother at the doorway, her face was tight with worry.

“Zara, you have a visitor. He says it’s about your father’s debt.”

Zara’s heart sank. Another creditor?

She stepped out with her mother into the hallway and came face to face with a man in a fitted navy-blue suit likely in his mid-thirties, neat and polished, with a sophisticated case in hand. He extended a business card.

“Ms. Adigun, my name is Mr. Afolabi. I represent Mr. Dami Adeyemi.”

Zara blinked. That name wasn’t unfamiliar. Everyone in Lagos knew the Adeyemi name. Billionaire. Real estate tycoon. Cold-hearted transactional fellow.

“What does someone like Dami Adeyemi want with me?”

“May we speak privately?” Mr. Afolabi asked.

Zara hesitated but nodded. They walked to the hospital cafeteria to discuss, quiet, except for the faint whirr of a cooling unit and the faint voice of a news anchor.

He put the briefcase in front of him on the table, unlocked it, and handed her the documents.

“This is a contract. Mr. Adeyemi is proposing to pay off your father’s debts in full, settle the hospital bills, and restore the Adigun company’s reputation.”

Zara said with suspicion. “There is always a catch. What is it?”

“You will enter into a one-year marriage with Mr. Adeyemi. Legal, binding, and confidential.”

She paused, struggling to respond. “You are not serious, are you?”

“Deadly.”

Zara laughed bitterly. “Is this some kind of rich-man fantasy? Buying a wife like a commodity?”

Mr. Afolabi didn’t flinch. “It’s not a fantasy, Ms. Adigun. It’s a business arrangement. Mr. Adeyemi has his reasons both personal and professional. He needs a wife who won’t fall in love, won’t ask questions, and will fulfill the role for appearances.”

Zara rose abruptly, her chair scraping the floor. “Inform your boss that I’m not interested.”

She turned to leave, but Mr. Afolabi said calmly, “your lack of interest means that your father’s treatment will cease immediately. The debt collectors will seize your family home. And Adigun & Co? It will be auctioned off by next week.”

Her legs froze.

“You have three days to decide.”

Back at home, Zara sat in the dark, phone in hand, rereading the contract for the tenth time. Her mother sat across from her, quiet.

“You’re not considering this, are you?” her younger brother, Tunde, asked.

“What other option do we have?” she murmured. “We can’t afford another week in the hospital.”

“You’d marry a man you do not even know?”

She sighed. “It’s not a real marriage.”

“It’s still a prison.”

Zara didn’t respond. She thought about her dreams—her own architectural firm, independence, a life lived on her own terms. But dreams didn’t pay bills. Dreams would not save her father’s life.

She looked at the paper. One year. No intimacy. No emotional entanglements. Just public appearances and obedience to Dami Adeyemi’s terms.

Her pride screamed ‘’NO’’.

Her reality said otherwise.

The following afternoon, Zara gazed at the towering glass exterior of Adeyemi Holdings in Victoria Island. It was everything she wasn’t—polished, distant and unapproachable.

The receptionist welcomed her and led her upstairs. Behind a majestic marble desk, sat Dami Adeyemi.

Tall, sculpted, with a face carved in arrogance. His eyes were dark, unreadable. He didn’t rise as she entered.

“So you showed up,” he said without emotion.

“I needed to hear it from you,” she replied, crossing her arms firmly. “Why me?”

He looked her over once, expression unreadable. “You’re beautiful, but not the type to get clingy. Smart, but not a threat. Desperate enough to say yes. And, most importantly, you have no ties to my world.”

“Wow,” she scoffed. “Romantic.”

“This isn’t romance. This is damage control. My mother’s will states I must be married to claim full control of the company. Marriage is not something I believe in, but contracts, I do. You help me fulfil a condition, and I’ll help you hold your family together. We both win.”

Zara leaned forward. “And what if I bridge the contract and fall in love with you?”

A faint smile touched his lips, amusement flickering softly in his eyes like candlelight. “You won’t, he said quietly”

“And if you fall for me?”

His eyes turned to ice. “I don’t fall. Especially not for women like you.”

Zara’s jaw clenched. “Fine. Then let’s make something clear—I’m not your puppet. You get your perfect image, but I keep my dignity. Agreed?”

He extended a hand. “Agreed.”

Their hands clasped firmly, and a shiver ran through Zara. Right then, it dawned on her that she was walking into a golden cage, filled with hidden truths and guarded by a man whose heart seemed frozen in time.

But cages could be broken. And maybe—just maybe—ice would melt.