Manifesting To Be The Rich Man's Wife

7

Amina's POV🩶

I entered the hotel room and quietly lay down on the pristine white, luxurious bed. Closing my eyes, I soon drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, I was roused by the sound of the door opening. I heard Basma's voice muttering as she moved about the room and eventually felt the mattress dip when she slid into bed beside me.

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I woke up to the sight of her pushing a trolley into the room, carrying an assortment of breakfast treats.

"Good morning," she greeted me cheerfully. "You slept early."

Unenthused, I got straight to the point: "When are we leaving?" I inquired with a serious expression, eager to make my way back to Kaduna so that I could return to Kano and see my parents.

"We'll follow the evening train, just like we did yesterday," she replied while munching on a biscuit and savouring a sip of her hot tea.

I wanted to protest and tell her I wanted to leave immediately, but my father's call interrupted me.

A wave of fear and guilt washed over me, as he would undoubtedly be disappointed to know I'm not in Kaduna. Despite my reluctance, I knew I had to answer his call, since he hardly ever called and must have something important to discuss.

"Hello, Amina." His voice came through the phone.

"Good morning, Father," I responded in a hushed, trembling whisper.

"I'm on my way to Kaduna now," he revealed. "I thought I'd visit you. I hope you're available."

My heart raced at his words, a mix of more fear and guilt consuming me. I glanced at Basma, her gaze locked on mine, before I took a deep breath and responded, unsure of how to navigate the situation.

"Yes, Father, I'm available. When will you reach?" I replied.

"I just left Kano a short while ago," he informed. "It might take about three hours, depending on traffic. However, since it's still very early, I doubt there will be any delays."

"I hope you have a safe journey," I said, and I hung up, beginning to pace anxiously around the room, overwhelmed by the weight of my deceit. How could I possibly explain to him that this was my first trip outside the city and that I had met someone who harboured such unpleasant thoughts about me?

My thoughts spiralled as I tried to fathom how I could possibly explain my actions. More guilt and fear consumed me as I realised he would never trust me again. I felt like a child caught in a lie, with nowhere to hide. While I paced anxiously around the room, I tried to find a way to explain my actions without upsetting him too much.

"Whose call was it? What happened?" I heard Basma's worried voice.

"My dad is visiting Kaduna today to see me." I turn around and look at her.

She became perplexed upon hearing the news, and her expression changed to worry while she said, "What?"

I spoke again, still agitated, "I beg you to take me back. Take me before he arrives."

"Okay, okay," she responded calmly. Her eyes checked her watch before adding, "There are only 30 minutes left before the train leaves the station. We can still make it if we hurry. Let me book an Uber now."

We waited for it to arrive. Once it did, we quickly checked out of the hotel and made our way to the station. However, after we approached the train door, the security attendant denied me entry after Basma had already went in.

"You cannot leave Abuja," he informed me.

I was stunned and confused, my mind racing with questions. "Wh—what? Why?" I asked, panicking.

"It's an order," he explained firmly. "Neither the train nor any car is allowed to take you back."

Anger and fear mingled within me as I yelled, "But why?"

He yet again replied firmly, "It's an order from Alhaji Ibrahim."

His response fueled my frustration, and I snapped back, "By what right does he have to keep me here? I'm neither a criminal nor have I done anything to warrant being detained. I've attended school, and I'm well aware of my rights as a citizen. I can have you both arrested for unlawfully trying to imprison me in this city..."

He gave me an intimidating look before he bluntly inquired, "Who are you? Do you, by any chance, have any idea just how influential the Alhaji is? Step aside, Madam." His piercing gaze left me no choice but to comply.

While I stood frozen in my tracks, a tall, imposing figure clad in head-to-toe black surfaced before me. His broad shoulders and well-toned physique were accentuated by the way his dark clothes hung on him. But it was the pair of opaque black shades perched on his face that stirred a shiver of fear deep within me. In a flat, emotionless tone, he proclaimed, "Alhaji has sent a car for you. He has instructed me to tell you that there is no need to worry; he will arrange your return ticket for tomorrow."

I could hardly contain the anger bubbling up inside me, my mind swelling with a flurry of unsavoury words I wished to shout at the man before me and their Alhaji. If only he had the bravery to face me himself, I would have even been tempted to deliver a sharp slap across his face.

I began to spew my outrage, "Tell your stupid Al..."

Before I could finish, the man's sharp, goring scream cut me off, his tone charged with authority. "Ma'am!"

I froze on the spot, my body quivering with the weight of the fear it provoked.

He gestured towards a gleaming black 2024 Prado and declared, "The car is waiting for you."

I lowered my head, my voice now a hushed whisper, as I asked, softly, "Can you call him, please?" The very thought of speaking directly to him sent a shiver down my spine, but I couldn't resist the urge to deliver my own scathing tirade to him.

He assured me, "Don't worry. Alhaji has reserved the entire top floor of Transcorp Hilton's hotel for both of you. You'll have plenty of time to talk in the utmost comfort." His words were meant to comfort me, but the weight of the situation only added to my unease because I am not a prostitute.

I clenched my fists tightly at my sides. Though my heart continued to quiver with fear, I stood my ground, my words steady and resolute: "I will not go without speaking with him." regardless, silently, I knew that even if he let me, I would still not go along, as I'm not mad to go against my religion.

The man's eyes bored into me with a steely glare, scepticism etching deep lines on his face while he pulled out his phone and dialled. The call was set to the speaker, and his commanding voice boomed from the other end, a sharp demand that filled the air: "What?"

My bones turned to jelly at the sound, but I fortified myself, refusing to get scared at everything.

With quiet resolve, the man repeated my demand. "She wants to talk to you."

His response was swift and dismissive: "You foolish man. Then, bring her."

"I said it..."

"Just be quiet. I don't want to hear your ugly voice. Give her the phone. Let me hear what she has to say. And next time, never call me for such a reason again."

The man's anger was palpable in his words, his voice laced with a sharpness that made my hands tremble as I accepted the phone. It seemed that his irritation was directed not only at my request, but perhaps it was simply the way he spoke to his workers. Nonetheless, the weight of his displeasure hung heavily in the air, leaving me shaken while I prepared myself for the conversation that was to follow.

I was taken aback when his voice, now tinged with a sudden warmth and charm, greeted me with a suave, "Hello, beautiful lady."

I turned my gaze towards his man, fixing him with a defiant stare and I moved a few steps away for privacy. My voice trembled with determination as I addressed him: "Mr. Ibrahim, or rather, Alhaji Ibrahim—whatever your name is, I assure you, I don't care. Your influence and wealth mean nothing to me. Yes, you may be rich, but you cannot buy my honour. I would rather stay in Abuja forever than surrender my values to your disgusting ways."

I raised my chin proudly, my words infused with newfound confidence. I continued with relentless will, "My honour is worth more than any wealth you possess. Remember this. Also, know that I am leaving Abuja right this very moment."

As I spoke these words, I spotted Abbah waving at me from afar, and a glimmer of hope welled up within my weary heart.

Abbah, with his characteristic charm, appeared beside me with a warm greeting. His bright smile, like a ray of sunshine, instantly lifted my spirits.

His grin widened while he spoke up. "I knew I would find you here. I've been trying to reach you on the phone, but you've switched it off. I had to track it. The president has provided me with a car to take me back to Kaduna. Care to share the ride?"

The tension in my body eased and I nodded eagerly, grateful for his offer. I flashed a smile, feeling relieved and thankful.

Basma then approached me, curiosity carved on her face.

"Why didn't you go into the train?" she asked, her voice tinged with surprise.

"I'm on a call," I explained, taking a few steps away to ensure that my conversation remained private.

"Did you hear that? I'm leaving Abuja right now."

"How far is Kaduna from Abuja? I will hunt you down until you surrender," he growled.

"Ibrahim, accept my rejection. I'm not like the other women you've been with. You can never have me."

His laughter mingled with a hint of pain, and his voice carried a deep longing as he vowed, "You will be mine by the end of this week."

I laughed softly, dismissing his words as a mere empty threat.

"Keep dreaming. I'm your impossible dream." After I hung up the phone, my heart thumped loudly in my chest after I turned and saw his man behind me. I returned the phone to him with a confident smile.

"Tell your Alhaji that he can stay all alone on the top floor and think about his wealth. I am beyond his reach," I asserted, my voice steady and self-assured.

Confidently, I walked away, joining Abbah's side once again.

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