She pointed proudly at herself. “You are in the care of Oluchi, the only doctor in this forest who accepts goats and billionaires.”
Kenneth frowned slightly. “Doctor?”
She nodded confidently. “Certified by experience and confidence.”
Kenneth tried to sit up. Immediately, Oluchi pushed him back down.
“Don’t move. Everyone in the forest felt that fall. Your brain is still arranging itself,” she said seriously. “If you stand now, you might go and greet your ancestors again, and this time they might not release you.”
Kenneth stared at her, then laughed weakly. “You’re unusual.”
Oluchi flipped her imaginary hair. “I hear that a lot. It is part of my brand.”
From a distance—voices, footsteps, branches breaking.
Ada and the bodyguards burst into the scene.
They froze.
Kenneth on the ground. A village girl hovering over him. Her cloth torn. Leaves on his head.
Silence.
Ada’s eyes slowly moved from Kenneth to Oluchi. Then back.
Something inside her snapped quietly.
“What happened?” she asked tightly.
Oluchi stood up immediately. “I happened.”
Ada blinked.
“I saved his life.”
Ada’s smile was polite but dangerous. “I see.”
Jealousy takes its first breath.
Kenneth looked at Oluchi again. Really looked this time. Not just her face—her energy, her boldness, her chaos.
And something stirred. Interest. Curiosity. Something deeper.
Ada noticed, and her heart twisted painfully.
Oluchi takes control.
As the bodyguards tried to help Kenneth stand, Oluchi raised her hand like a traffic officer.
“Stop.”
They froze. Even Ada.
“For the next few minutes,” Oluchi said firmly, “nobody will move him. His brain needs peace, not confusion—unlike some people.”
She glanced slightly at Ada.
Ada’s eyes narrowed.
Kenneth smiled.
To keep him awake, Oluchi started talking non-stop.
“I once treated a man who thought he was pregnant.”
Kenneth blinked. “What?”
“Yes. His stomach was like a drum. Everybody was scared. I pressed it—pum! Air came out like a generator starting. It was just too much fufu and palm wine.”
Kenneth laughed.
Even the bodyguards laughed.
Ada didn’t.
Oluchi continued proudly, “I have healed goats, chickens, and one stubborn child who refused to stop crying. I just showed him bitter leaf. He became quiet immediately.”
Kenneth wiped tears of laughter. “You’re incredible.”
Ada’s jaw tightened.
After a few minutes, Oluchi nodded. “Okay, now your brain has settled.”
She handed Kenneth a bundle of herbs. “Use this when you get home. Don’t argue with me. I saved your life. You owe me obedience.”
Kenneth took it, still smiling. “Thank you, Oluchi.”
She stood tall. “I know.”
Then she turned and walked away dramatically, leaving behind a confused billionaire, a jealous assistant, and a story that had just begun to burn.
Lagos was alive.
Lights glittered like diamonds that had learned how to shine on command. Cars moved as if they had important secrets. Music floated from distant rooftops.
And inside one of the most luxurious mansions in the city, Kenneth Chik was not at peace.
Kenneth lay awake, eyes open, mind loud.
In his hand was a small torn piece of cloth. Oluchi’s cloth.
He stared at it as if it held answers to questions he didn’t understand yet.
“Why am I like this?” he muttered.
He turned to the other side, closed his eyes.
Silence.
Then—
“Don’t move. Your brain will go and meet your ancestors.”
His eyes snapped open.
“I need help,” he whispered.
The memory refused to leave.
Every time he tried to rest, he saw her. Her wild energy. Her fearless voice. Her ridiculous confidence. Her laugh. Her eyes.
Kenneth sat up suddenly. “This is not normal.”
He stood and walked to the balcony. The city stretched before him—beautiful, controlled, predictable—but his mind was completely hijacked.
“Oluchi,” he said softly.
The name felt strange, but right.
Meanwhile, Ada was watching.
Across the hall, Ada stood still. She had noticed everything: the distraction, the silence during meetings, the way Kenneth smiled for no reason, and worst of all, the name he whispered once when he thought nobody heard.
“Oluchi.”
Ada’s grip tightened on her tablet.
“A village girl?”
She laughed softly, but there was no humor in it.
“This must be a joke.”
Later that evening, Ada entered the dining room. Kenneth sat at the long table, untouched food in front of him.
“Sir,” she said gently, “you haven’t eaten.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Ada sat across from him. Careful. Strategic.
“Is this about the girl?”
Kenneth looked up. Sharp. Direct. “What girl?”
Ada smiled slightly. “The one who saved you.”
Silence.
Kenneth leaned back. “Her name is Oluchi.”
Ada’s smile faded just a little. “I see. You remember.”
“I’m not ungrateful.”
Ada nodded. “Of course. Gratitude.”
She paused, then added quietly, “Or is it something else?”
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