Poor Adopted Girl Was Forced To Marry A Blind Beggar, Unaware He Is A Billionaire Prince

The city was always loud, but some kinds of silence still lived inside it.

In one quiet corner of that big city, there was a compound where people came and went like rushing water.

Cars passed, generators hummed, neighbors argued and laughed and shouted across fences.

Life did not stop for anybody.

But inside that house, something gentle was happening.

Her name was Chica.

She was still very young when she lost the only life she knew.

Nobody needed to explain pain to her.

She had already tasted it.

The kind that sits in your chest and makes you feel like you are not real.

The kind that makes you watch other children hold hands and wonder what it feels like to be chosen.

Then one day, she was chosen.

A woman named Madame Helen brought her into her home.

Madame Helen was not loud.

She did not talk too much.

Her eyes looked tired sometimes, but there was kindness inside them.

Beside her was her husband, Thomas, a calm man with a steady voice and a soft way of looking at people as if they mattered.

Nobody made Chica feel like she was a burden.

The first night in that house, she did not sleep well.

Not because the place was bad.

It was too good.

The mattress felt too soft.

The room felt too quiet.

She kept waiting for someone to change their mind and send her away.

She kept listening for angry footsteps.

But morning came and nobody chased her out.

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks turned into months.

Chica slowly began to breathe like a child again.

She began to eat without fear.

She began to laugh without checking who was watching.

She started calling the house home without feeling guilty for it.

Thomas treated her like she was his own blood.

He did not do it in a showy way.

It was in small things.

The way he asked if she had eaten.

The way he corrected her gently when she made mistakes.

The way he carried her school bag when she was tired.

The way he listened when she spoke, even when her words were slow and shy.

Sometimes neighbors would talk when they saw them together.

“Is that your first daughter?” someone would ask Thomas.

And Thomas would simply nod, calm and sure, like there was no other answer.

After a while, people stopped asking questions.

Not because they became wiser, but because the love in that house was so full that it covered everything.

You could look at Chica standing beside Thomas and Madame Helen and not see a stranger.

You would only see a child who belonged.

For the first time in her life, Chica felt safe.

She did not feel like a visitor.

She did not feel like a favor.

She felt like a daughter.

Then 3 years after Chica came into their home, something unexpected happened.

Adam Helen became pregnant.

It was the kind of news that entered the house quietly at first, then began to fill the rooms with a new kind of excitement.

Madame Helen moved more slowly.

Thomas watched her more closely.

There were more hospital visits, more careful meals, more soft conversations behind closed doors.

Chica noticed it all.

At first, she did not understand why her chest felt tight.

She was happy for them.

She truly was.

But she also feared something she could not explain.

A fear that whispered, “When the real children come, will they still want you?” She tried to push it away, but it stayed.

Then the babies came.

Two girls.

They named them Bianca and Linda.

The whole house changed again, but this time in a bright way.

There was the smell of baby powder, the sound of crying, the sound of laughter that came after crying.

There were visitors, gifts, advice from neighbors who acted like they knew everything.

Chica watched Madame Helen hold the babies and she watched Thomas look at them with pride.

And still Thomas did not forget Chica.

Even in the middle of those newborn days when sleep was scarce and stress could easily turn a person hard, Thomas stayed the same with her.

He still asked about her school.

He still made sure she ate.

He still spoke to her with warmth.

He still called her his child without hesitation.

One evening, Chica stood in the doorway and watched Thomas rocking one of the babies gently.

The baby’s tiny fingers held his shirt like it was the only safe thing in the world.

Bianca or Linda? Chica was not sure which one.

Thomas looked up and saw Chica standing there quiet.

He smiled and stretched out his free hand.

“Come,” he said softly.

“You, too.

” Chica walked closer, slow like she was afraid the moment would break.

Thomas placed his hand on her head the way he always did, like a blessing.

“You are my first,” he told her, as if he was correcting a doubt he had seen in her eyes.

“Nothing will change that.

” Chica did not answer.

She only nodded.

But her heart answered.

From that day, the house felt complete.

Not perfect because no life is perfect, but complete in the way a hungry heart feels when it finally finds a place to rest.

People who came around would look at the three girls and not know the difference.

They would see Bianca and Linda with their matching baby things, and they would see Chica with her calm eyes and gentle manners, moving around like someone born into the home.

They would see the way Thomas spoke to her with pride and the way Madame Helen included her naturally, and they would assume she was theirs.

Chica did not correct anybody.

She didn’t need to.

For that season of her life, she was happy.

She was loved.

And in that house, she was not an orphan.

She was a daughter, and she carried Thomas’s words with her like something warm pressed against her chest.

You are my first.

Nothing will change that.

In the beginning, it truly seemed like nothing would.

The babies grew in small, visible ways.

Their cries became less frightening.

Their faces became clearer.

Bianca and Linda started to smile, then to laugh, then to reach for things with curious hands.

The house filled up with the kind of noise that makes a home feel alive.

Baby sounds, rushed footsteps, soft lullabibis, visitors coming with gifts and advice.

Madame Helen began to look like herself again.

People used to say the pregnancy was a miracle.

Some said it was Chica’s presence that brought it.

Some said it was God rewarding Madame Helen and Thomas for taking in a child who had no one.

The older women in the compound nodded as if they had seen it happen before.

Thomas never argued with them.

Sometimes when someone made those comments in front of Chica, she would look down, unsure of where to place her face.

Thomas would simply reach out, touch her shoulder lightly, and continue whatever he was doing.

Like Chica did not need to prove she belonged.

and she did belong.

When school resumed, Thomas made sure Chica’s uniform was neat, her books complete, her fees paid on time.

When she came home with a good result, he praised her like she had won something big.

When she struggled, he sat with her patiently.

He did not treat her kindness like a favor.

It was just his nature.

Even Madame Helen in those early years tried in her own way.

She was not as soft as Thomas, but she was not cruel.

She could be strict and she could be quick to correct, but she still made space for Chica in the home.

So, Chica grew up in the middle of love, learning to live like a normal child.

And for a while, it stayed like that.

Time passed the way it always does, quietly without announcement.

Bianca and Linda became toddlers, then little girls.

They began to run around the house, dragging toys across the floor, climbing chairs they were not supposed to climb, demanding attention with the confidence only children have.

They were beautiful and full of energy.

People who visited always commented on them.

Madame Helen loved hearing those comments.

Chica watched everything from a careful distance, not because she hated them, but because she had learned early that happiness could change suddenly.

Even when she smiled, she sometimes held part of herself back, as if she was saving it for a day she might need it.

Thomas kept their home steady.

He remained the one who brought peace when things got loud.

He was the one who settled arguments between children.

The one who reminded Madame Helen to rest, the one who spoke with calm authority when Bianca and Linda misbehaved.

He was the pillar they all leaned on, whether they admitted it or not.

Then one day that pillar was gone.

It did not happen slowly.

It did not come with a warning.

It happened like a slap.

The news reached the house in a strange broken way.

First as rumors, then as frantic phone calls, then as a knock at the gate that did not sound normal.

Madame Helen stepped out to answer.

And the moment she heard what they were saying, her body changed.

Her hands went weak.

Her face lost color.

Chica stood behind her trying to understand.

At first, it did not make sense.

People were talking too fast.

Words like accident, hospital, and car flew around like they had no meaning.

Madame Helen’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Bianca and Linda, confused by the tension, started to cry.

Chica felt something cold rise inside her.

They rushed out.

Neighbors followed.

Someone called a number again and again.

Another person kept saying, “It will be okay.

” Even though nobody sounded like they believed it, but it was not okay.

Thomas had been involved in a terrible car accident.

By the time they got to where he was, he was already gone.

It was the kind of death that leaves no room for bargaining.

No time for last words, no chance to say goodbye properly, just sudden emptiness, like a light switched off in the middle of a sentence.

The house that used to feel alive became quiet in a frightening way.

Madame Helen stopped moving like herself.

Sometimes she sat for hours without speaking.

Sometimes she cried until her body shook.

Sometimes she snapped at small things and then cried again as if she did not know what to do with the pain.

The compound people came with condolence, food, and prayers.

They filled the sitting room for days.

They spoke about God’s will.

They told Madame Helen to be strong for her children.

They called Thomas a good man.

Chica listened to all of it with a numb face.

Inside her, something had collapsed.

Because Thomas was not only a father, he was the one person who made the world feel safe.

When he was alive, Chica believed the worst part of her life was behind her.

Now she was not sure of anything again.

After the burial, the number of visitors reduced.

Life began to return to people’s faces outside.

But inside that house, something had shifted.

The warmth did not return the same way.

At first, Bianca and Linda were only grieving children.

They cried for their father.

They clung to their mother.

They fought for attention more than before.

They became louder, more demanding, more easily irritated.

Madame Helen was too broken to correct everything.

And then, little by little, another thing entered the house.

A knowledge.

Chica did not know exactly how it happened, but she felt the change before anyone said it out loud.

It began with small comments.

A look held too long.

A whisper that stopped when Chica entered the room.

Bianca and Linda refusing to share something with her.

Not like normal childish selfishness, but like they were making a point.

One afternoon, Chica walked into the kitchen and heard Bianca’s voice.

She is not our real sister.

The words did not even sound loud, but they landed heavy.

Linda answered, “Mommy said she is not.

” Chica froze by the doorway.

Her heart began to beat in her throat.

Her palms went cold.

The world around her felt distant, like she was underwater.

Bianca saw her and did not look away.

Instead, she lifted her chin slightly, like she’d been waiting for this moment.

Linda’s eyes narrowed in a way Chica had never seen before.

It was not just curiosity.

It was something else, something hard.

From that day, the balance in the house started to crumble because Thomas was no longer there to stand between love and cruelty.

And now that Bianca and Linda knew Chica was not their blood, they began to look at her as if she was a stranger who had stayed too long.

After that day in the kitchen, Chica started living like someone who was always listening.

Not because she wanted to eavesdrop, but because she was afraid of being caught unaware again.

The house had not changed in one big dramatic moment.

It was changing in small ways, like a slow fever.

Bianca and Linda began to treat her like she was no longer part of them.

At first, it looked like childish attitude, the kind that comes and goes, but it did not go.

They started leaving her out on purpose.

If Madame Helen sent Chica to call them, they would ignore her until she raised her voice.

If Chica reminded them of something their mother said, they would roll their eyes and say, “You are not our mother.

” Sometimes when visitors came, Bianca and Linda would suddenly become sweet, smiling, and well- behaved.

They would sit close to Madame Helen and look like innocent girls.

But as soon as the visitors left, their faces would harden again, like a mask dropped on the floor.

The warmth that used to live in that house began to disappear.

Meals became tense.

Conversations became shorter.

The air in the sitting room began to feel heavy, as if everyone was stepping around something sharp on the floor.

Chica tried to hold on to what she remembered.

She kept doing her best.

She cleaned without being asked.

She helped with small things around the house.

She spoke politely.

She avoided arguments.

She tried to stay invisible, hoping that if she made herself small enough, nobody would feel the need to hurt her.

But it did not work.

Bianca and Linda seemed to enjoy reminding her of her place.

“You are not our sister,” Bianca said one afternoon when Chica tried to correct her gently about a school matter.

Linda laughed and added, “You are just the one they picked from outside.

” Chica stood there swallowing words she wanted to say.

She did not have the strength to fight them.

Not when she knew that Thomas was no longer there to protect her.

Madame Helen saw some of it.

Sometimes she looked like she wanted to speak.

Sometimes she sighed and walked away.

Other times she scolded them weakly, but her voice did not carry weight anymore.

Grief had changed her.

Loneliness had changed her, and the pressure of raising two biological children alone made her tired in a way she could not hide.

Slowly, Bianca and Linda began to control the house without even realizing it.

They complained loudly.

They made demands.

They cried and threw tantrums.

And Madame Helen, already worn down, started giving in just to keep peace.

Chica watched it happening, helpless.

It was as if the house had shifted its loyalty, not to what was right, but to what was loud.

The home Chica once called home became a place of fear and constant tension.

She began to dread evening because that was when everyone gathered and the mood could turn without warning.

She began to dread morning because she never knew what kind of day Bianca and Linda had planned for her.

And then one night, something happened that showed Chica clearly how little space she now had in that house.

Bianca and Linda had gone out earlier with their mother’s permission.

It was already late when they returned.

The compound was quiet.

Most neighbors had gone inside.

The street lights outside the gate threw faint shadows on the wall.

The air had that night smell, dust, smoke from cooking, and the sound of distant generators.

Bianca and Linda reached the gate and tried to push it open.

It did not move.

They tried again.

Nothing.

For a second, there was silence.

Then Bianca’s voice rose sharply.

What is this? Linda grabbed the padlock and rattled it like the metal would suddenly feel sorry for her.

The gate is locked.

They banged the gate hard.

Once, twice, three times.

Open up.

Their voices cut through the night like knives.

Open this gate.

Neighbors began to peek through windows.

Someone’s dog barked.

A few people murmured from inside their rooms.

Bianca hit the gate again, louder this time, as if anger could unlock it.

“Who locked the gate?” Linda answered quickly, already sure of herself.

“There is only one person that would do this.

” Bianca’s eyes flashed.

“Chica!” They screamed her name as if she had committed a crime.

“Chica, open up now.

” Their panic was not the kind that comes from fear alone.

It was mixed with anger and entitlement.

The way people behave when they believe they should never be inconvenienced.

They did not even ask if something had happened.

They did not consider that maybe it was a mistake.

In their minds, it had to be Chica.

Because Chica was the easiest person to blame.

Bianca banged the gate again harder.

Chica, “If you don’t open this gate now, you will see.

” Linda added, “We know it is you.

Who else would lock us out?” They shouted until their throats were tight until the compound felt like it was holding its breath.

And inside the house, Chica heard her name being thrown around in the darkness like stones.

She stood up slowly, her heart pounding, already afraid of what would happen next.

Her legs felt heavy as she moved through the house.

She had been dozing in her room, half asleep in that tired way that comes when your body has done too much and your mind has carried too much.

The shouting outside snapped her awake fully.

Her name was being called like a warning.

Before she could even reach the sitting room, she heard Madame Helen’s door open.

Madame Helen came out quickly, wrapper tied tight, face already angry.

Not the kind of anger that asks questions first, the kind that has already decided who was wrong.

She marched toward the front door, pulled it open, and stepped outside.

“What is all this noise?” she demanded.

Bianca spoke first, loud and dramatic.

Mommy, the gate is locked.

We have been outside for how long? Linda added, we know it is Chica.

She locked us out.

Madame Helen did not even pause to think.

She turned sharply, eyes searching, and when she saw Chica stepping out behind her, her voice rose.

Chica.

Chica stopped immediately.

Yes, Ma.

Did I not tell you to stay by the gate? Madame Helen snapped.

Did I not tell you that when my children come back, you should open for them? Chica’s throat went dry.

She tried to explain, but the words came out small.

“Ma, I I slept off.

I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean slept off.

” Madame Helen repeated as if the excuse itself offended her.

“So, you went to your room and slept, knowing they would come back.

” Chica shook her head quickly.

“No, Ma, I didn’t plan it.

I was waiting.

I just I slept without knowing.

Madame Helen pointed toward the gate like she was pointing at Chica’s shame.

Go and open it now.

Chica rushed forward, fingers trembling as she fumbled with the lock.

Behind her, Bianca and Linda did not look relieved.

They looked satisfied, like this was the kind of scene they enjoyed.

As soon as the gate opened, Bianca pushed past Chica hard enough to make her stumble.

“How dare you lock us outside?” Bianca hissed loud enough for neighbors to hear.

Linda followed, looking Chica up and down with disgust.

“Next time you will sleep outside, too,” she said.

Chica kept her eyes lowered.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again because that was the only word she was allowed to have.

“Madame Helen waved her hand like she was tired of seeing Chica’s face.

“Go to your room,” she said flatly.

“Lock the gate properly.

” Chica walked back inside slowly, her chest tight.

She could still hear Bianca and Linda laughing behind her like the night had given them fresh strength.

In her room, she sat on the edge of the bed for a long time.

She did not cry loudly.

She did not have the kind of freedom.

Tears just gathered in her eyes and stayed there burning.

She was still sitting there when her phone vibrated lightly on the bed.

A message.

Before she could even check it properly, she heard Madame Helen’s voice from the hallway.

Chica.

Chica’s shoulders tensed.

“Yes, ma.

I’m in my room,” Madame Helen said, voice sharp.

“Bring my food.

” Chica stood up at once.

She went to the kitchen, plated the food carefully, and walked to Madame Helen’s room.

Her hands were steady on the outside, but inside she felt like she was shaking.

When she entered, Madame Helen looked at her with annoyance, as if Chica had been standing there for enjoyment.

You people came back late? Madame Helen said taking the tray.

And you still went to sleep.

Sorry, Ma.

Chica said softly.

Madame Helen scoffed.

You are always sorry.

That is why you are stupid.

The words hit Chica like a slap.

She stood there swallowing hard.

Is there anything else you want me to do before I go to bed? She asked, forcing her voice to stay calm.

Madame Helen eyed her like she was wasting her air.

So, you are standing here and staring at me like I’m some celebrity.

She snapped.

Can you just get out of my sight? Go and sleep.

Chica nodded.

Yes, ma.

She turned to leave, but Madame Helen’s voice followed her.

And make sure you wait.

After we are done eating, you will come and clear the plates.

Chica paused.

Yes, ma.

She walked out, went back to the kitchen, and stood near the doorway like someone waiting for punishment.

Not long after, Bianca’s laughter started drifting through the corridor.

She was on the phone speaking sweetly to someone, giggling as if she had no problems in the world.

Chica didn’t know who she was talking to.

She didn’t care.

All she knew was that Bianca’s happiness always seemed to be built on someone else’s discomfort.

When Bianca finally finished, she called out without even looking up.

Chica.

Chica stepped forward quickly.

Yes.

Bianca pointed to the plates like they were dirty clothes.

“Take this back,” Linda added, lazy and amused.

“And make sure you wash everything and tidy the kitchen before you go to your room.

” They laughed, watching her like she was entertainment.

Chica collected the plate silently.

No argument, no complaint, just quiet movement.

In the kitchen, she turned on the tap.

Water splashed against metal.

She scrubbed until her fingers achd.

She wiped the counter.

She swept the floor.

She arranged everything neatly because she had learned that if anything was left out of place, it would become another reason to insult her in the morning.

When the work finally slowed, the night became quiet again.

Chica stood alone for a moment, hands resting on the edge of the sink, breathing slowly.

Her shoulders were tired, her eyes were heavy, but she did not go to bed immediately.

Instead, she began to hum to herself.

It was not a loud song, not a performance, just a soft tune that kept her from falling apart.

A simple promise repeated gently like a prayer.

Hold on.

It will be all right.

She didn’t even realize she was singing until the words settled in her chest like warmth.

No one heard her.

No one praised her.

But in that quiet kitchen, with the last plate drying and the floor clean under her feet, that small song became the only comfort she had.

It was the only light she could protect, and she held it carefully because she knew the night was not the end of her suffering.

It was only the beginning.

Chica did not sleep well that night.

Even after the kitchen was clean and the last plate was arranged, her mind refused to rest.

She lay on her mat, staring into the dark, listening to the house breathe.

Soft footsteps, a distant cough, the occasional creek of a door.

When she finally slept, it was light and short, like her body was afraid to go too deep.

Morning came quickly.

The first sound was the call of a neighbor sweeping outside.

The next was a rooster somewhere in the distance.

Then the compound began to wake, gates opening, buckets dragging, people talking over fences.

Chica got up before anyone called her.

She washed her face, tied her hair neatly, and went to the kitchen.

She moved quietly like she was walking inside someone else’s life.

She lit the stove, boiled water, prepared tea, arranged bread, and the little things Madame Helen liked.

When everything was ready, she poured the tea carefully and placed the tray on the table.

Then she went to wake Bianca and Linda.

Madame Helen had made it clear the day before.

Wake them up.

Tell them breakfast is ready.

Chica stood outside their door and knocked gently.

Bianca, Linda, breakfast is ready.

No response.

She knocked again slightly louder.

Please, breakfast is ready.

The door flung open.

Bianca’s face was tight with anger like Chica had insulted her.

What is wrong with you? Bianca shouted.

Must you wake me from my precious sleep? Linda sat up on the bed, eyes half open, already ready to join the attack.

Don’t you have sense? Linda snapped.

Can’t you see it’s still early? Chica stepped back a little.

Sorry.

Madame said I should wake you that breakfast.

Keep quiet.

Bianca cut in.

Just get out.

Chica turned to leave, but their voices followed her like sharp stones.

They began gossiping, not even lowering their tone as if Chica was not human enough to deserve privacy.

Bianca yawned dramatically.

Mom, you know those women and their daughters are shameless.

Linda laughed.

You mean Mrs.

Kate and her daughters.

“Yes,” Bianca said with disgust, as if saying the name alone stained her mouth.

“Those ones that are always pretending like they have class.

” Madame Helen’s voice came from her room, tired, but eager to join the conversation.

“What have they done again?” Bianca scoffed.

“Everybody knows them.

They don’t have anything, but they want to live big.

They have been sleeping with Mr.

Jeffrey.

” Linda giggled like it was a joke.

Chica froze in the hallway.

She had heard the name before, but now she understood the kind of man they meant.

Mr.

Jeffrey was one of those men in the city who always seemed important, rich, flashy, always moving with younger women, always surrounded by people who wanted something from him.

He was not family.

He was not a neighbor.

He was simply the kind of person Madame Helen and her daughters liked mentioning when they wanted to feel superior, like they were close to big people.

Madame Helen sighed, then said quietly.

H Bianca continued, “More confident now.

” “I don’t even know what Mr.

Jeffrey sees in them.

Cheap girls.

” Madame Helen responded, “You have said it.

Cheap things sell fast.

” Linda laughed loudly.

Chica stood there holding her breath.

“They spoke about people with such ease, as if destroying someone’s dignity was normal breakfast talk.

And the way they said cheap was the way people talk about spoiled food.

Then Bianca shouted again.

Chica.

Chica entered quickly.

Bianca pointed at the tray like she was inspecting dirt.

I want more toast.

Yes, Chica said.

I will get it.

Bianca’s eyes narrowed.

And don’t make us scream your name up and down again.

When you bring it, you will stand here and wait because we will still need you.

Chica nodded.

Yes.

She went back to the kitchen, toasted more bread, and returned.

Bianca took it without gratitude.

Stand there, Bianca said, chewing.

Wait.

So Chica stood.

She stood beside the wall, hands folded in front of her like a child being punished, while Bianca and Linda ate slowly, talking and laughing as if Chica was not there.

After a while, Bianca stood up and stretched.

“Okay,” she said.

“Now you will wash clothes, clean the toilets, and tidy everywhere.

” “Yes,” Chica replied.

Linda added, “Make sure the toilet is very clean, very clean.

” Chica nodded again.

And Bianca, like she remembered something exciting, picked up her phone.

“Come, Linda,” she said.

“Let’s do a live video.

” Linda’s face brightened instantly.

Bianca angled the camera toward herself, pouted slightly, adjusted her hair, then started speaking in an exaggerated sweet voice.

“Hi guys.

” They laughed.

They posed.

They acted like celebrities.

And in the background, Chica began washing clothes with her hands, bending over a bucket, scrubbing as quietly as she could.

Bianca made sure the camera caught her at least once, as if Chica’s suffering was part of the set.

Linda whispered loudly enough for Chica to hear.

She’s always looking like she wants to die.

Bianca laughed and kept recording.

Chica stayed focused on clothes.

She kept her face blank.

She refused to give them tears to enjoy.

Later, Madame Helen called her.

Chica.

Yes, ma.

Madame Helen handed her a small piece of paper.

When you are done, go to the market.

Buy the items on this list.

We will cook stew and soup.

Chica took the paper carefully.

Yes, Ma.

Madame Helen brought out money and placed it in Chica’s hand.

Don’t waste it, she warned.

Chica nodded.

I won’t, Ma.

She returned to where she was washing.

She placed the money carefully beside the bucket in a spot she could see and continued scrubbing.

The soap stung her fingers.

The water was cold.

Her back hurt, but she kept going.

Then she realized the water was getting low.

She stood up and picked a bucket.

She would fetch water quickly, just rinse one more time, then go to the market.

She left the washing spot for only a short moment.

Only a short moment.

When she came back, she wiped her hands on her wrapper and reached for the money.

Her fingers touched the floor.

Nothing.

Chica blinked.

She checked again.

[clears throat] Nothing.

Her heart jumped violently.

She searched the ground, the side of the bucket, the edge of the basin.

She lifted the clothes.

She looked under the stool.

She searched around the wire where some clothes were hanging.

Nothing.

A cold fear spread through her body.

Chica’s breathing became unsteady.

“No,” she whispered.

She checked again faster this time, panic rising like fire.

“Still nothing.

” She stood there, staring at the empty spot where the money had been, as if staring hard enough would make it appear.

It didn’t.

Her eyes began to water.

She did not even know how to explain it.

She had kept the money carefully.

She had only stepped away to fetch water.

She did not understand how such a thing could happen so quickly.

But she knew one thing.

In that house, missing money was never just missing money.

It was trouble.

And she was the easiest person to blame.

Chica stood over the bucket, still staring at the empty spot beside it.

The sun was already climbing.

The compound was getting busier.

People were moving about, shouting prices, dragging buckets, chatting.

But Chica felt like the whole world had gone quiet inside her head.

She searched again.

She checked under the bucket.

She checked the cloth line.

She checked the corner of the wall.

She even shook out the clothes she had been washing as if the money had somehow slipped into the folds.

Nothing.

Her hands started to tremble.

She swallowed hard and walked toward the house.

Each step felt heavier than the last because she already knew what would happen.

Madame Helen did not ask questions when she was angry.

And this was money.

She knocked on Madame Helen’s door softly.

Ma? Madame Helen’s voice came sharp.

What is it? Chica opened the door slowly.

Ma, please.

The money you gave me for the market.

Madame Helen’s eyes narrowed immediately.

What about it? Chica’s voice shook.

I I can’t find it.

Silence.

Then Madame Helen exploded.

What do you mean you can’t find it? She shouted.

Are you mad? Are you okay at all? Chica stepped back, hands raised slightly as if she could protect herself from the words.

Ma, I kept it where I was washing.

I only went to fetch water.

Keep quiet, Madame Helen snapped.

I don’t want to hear any story.

Chica tried again, desperate.

Ma, I don’t know how it happened.

I didn’t.

Madame Helen pointed at her like she was pointing at a thief.

Go and find that money, she said, voice shaking with anger.

If you cannot find it, you will replace it.

Chica’s heart dropped.

Ma, how will I replace it? I don’t have any money.

Madame Helen laughed bitter and cruel.

That is not my problem.

Chica’s eyes filled.

Madame Helen stepped closer.

Listen to me very well.

That money you misplaced or whatever you did with it, that is your feeding money for one week.

One week.

Chica’s lips parted, but no words came out.

One week.

She felt dizzy.

“Ma, please,” she whispered.

“I didn’t take it.

” Madame Helen’s face hardened even more.

Chica gathered courage, the kind that came from desperation.

“Ma, it was Bianca that took it.

” The words had barely left her mouth when Madame Helen’s expression changed.

She looked at Chica like Chica had just insulted her daughter.

“What did you say?” Chica’s voice was small now.

“Ma, Bianca took it.

I saw Madame Helen cut her off with a sharp slap of words.

“Get out!” Chica flinched.

“Ma, I’m telling the truth.

Get out of my sight,” Madame Helen shouted before I lose my temper completely.

“Get out!” Chica stood there helpless, feeling the injustice burn her throat.

“Madame Helen pointed toward the door.

I said, “Get out.

” Chica turned and walked out quickly because she knew staying would only make it worse.

She went outside.

Her eyes hot with tears, her chest tight, her whole body shaking with the effort of not breaking down openly.

But she could not leave it like that.

Not when she was being punished for something she didn’t do.

So she went to Bianca and Linda’s room.

She knocked gently.

No answer.

She knocked again.

Bianca opened the door slowly, smiling like she already knew why Chica came.

Yes, Bianca said sweetly, pretending innocence.

Chica’s voice trembled.

Please, did you see money where I was washing? Bianca’s smile vanished.

What money? She snapped.

Chica swallowed.

The money madam gave me for the market.

Linda stepped forward, eyes cold.

Don’t ever ask us that kind of useless question again.

Bianca raised her voice.

And don’t knock on this door again.

Get out.

Chica tried one last time.

Please, I get out.

Bianca screamed.

Chica stepped back.

As she turned, she heard Bianca mutter something under her breath like a joke and Linda laugh.

Chica walked away slowly, shame and anger twisting together inside her.

She returned to Madame Helen.

“Ma, I have searched everywhere.

I still can’t find the money.

” Madame Helen’s eyes narrowed.

“So, you want me to give you another money, Abby?” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You think money is growing in this compound? Chica shook her head quickly.

No, ma.

I’m just saying I.

Madame Helen raised her hand.

Go.

Chica blinked.

Madame Helen pointed toward the back.

Go into the room there.

There is money kept inside.

Go and take the same amount.

If you like, take everything.

But if I catch you.

Chica’s stomach turned.

She knew what that meant.

It wasn’t help.

It was a trap.

A test she could never pass.

Ma, she started.

But Madame Helen’s voice rose again.

Get out.

Chica rushed away, tears finally spilling as she walked past the corridor.

Behind her, she heard Madame Helen calling Bianca.

Bianca.

Bianca’s voice came from inside.

Yes, Mommy.

Madame Helen sighed, her anger suddenly softer.

Come.

Chica paused.

She heard Bianca’s footsteps, heard their voices drop lower like secrets.

Chica stood still, holding her breath, trying to hear.

Then she heard Madame Helen’s voice again, calm now, as if nothing had happened.

Let’s leave it for tomorrow.

2:00 will be fine.

Chica didn’t understand.

Tomorrow, 2:00 Who was she talking to? Before Chica could think further, she heard the gate creek outside and a man’s voice, polite, confident.

Chica stepped out into the compound, still wiping her face.

That was when she saw him.

A young man stood outside near the gate, looking into the compound like he was searching for someone.

As soon as his eyes landed on Chica, his face brightened slightly.

“Hello,” he said.

Chica froze.

She didn’t respond immediately.

Her mind was still inside the chaos of the missing money.

The young man took a step closer.

I’ve been trying to talk to you, he said.

But you keep walking away.

Chica’s heart began to beat faster.

Her first thought wasn’t romance.

It was fear.

If Madame Helen saw her talking to a stranger, she would twist it into another accusation, another punishment.

“What do you want?” Chica asked quickly, voice tense.

The young man smiled a little like he found her seriousness amusing.

“Please,” he said.

“I just want to get to know you.

” Chica shook her head immediately.

No, please just go.

He tilted his head.

Why are you so angry? I’m not angry, Chica said, glancing toward the house.

I’m just Please don’t follow me.

My mother is strict.

The young man took another step.

Not aggressive, just persistent.

Wait, he said.

What’s your name again? Chica frowned.

I didn’t tell you my name.

He smiled.

But I know it.

Chica.

Chica’s breath caught.

How do you know my name? The young man quickly raised his hands a little as if to calm her.

Don’t be scared, he said.

I asked someone around.

I just wanted to be sure.

Chica’s fear grew instead of reducing.

Please, she whispered urgently.

Don’t come here.

Don’t follow me.

You will put me in trouble.

And as if her fear called it, Madame Helen stepped out of the house.

She looked from Chica to the young man, then back to Chica.

“Who is that?” Madame Helen asked.

Chica’s throat tightened.

I I don’t know him, Ma.

She said quickly.

The young man stepped forward politely.

Good afternoon, Ma, he said respectfully.

My name is Kelvin.

Madame Helen’s face softened immediately, the way it always softened when someone spoke to her with the right kind of respect.

“Oh,” she said, looking him over.

The confidence, the clean look, the calm way he carried himself, it was obvious he wasn’t struggling.

You’re welcome, Madame Helen said, smiling.

Come inside.

Chica’s heart sank.

Kelvin entered the compound with ease, like someone used to gates opening for him.

Madame Helen became suddenly energetic, calling out loudly.

Linda, Bianca.

Bianca’s voice came sweetly this time.

Yes, Mommy.

Come and greet our guest.

Within minutes, Bianca and Linda appeared.

Fresh faces, sweet smiles.

their earlier cruelty hidden like it never existed.

Chica stood slightly behind, quiet, trying not to be noticed.

But Kelvin noticed her.

Even while greeting Madame Helen and shaking hands with Bianca and Linda, Kelvin’s eyes kept shifting back to Chica like his mind was not fully in the conversation.

Madame Helen noticed, too, and she liked what she was seeing.

Kelvin spoke with calm confidence.

He asked about the family.

He praised the home.

He sounded like someone who had grown up with manners and money.

Then, like he had been waiting for the right moment, he looked at Madame Helen directly.

“Ma,” he said.

“Please, I would like your permission to take Chica out just for a date to get to know her better.

” Bianca’s smile froze.

Linda’s eyes widened slightly.

Chica’s stomach dropped.

“Madame Helen did not hesitate.

” “Oh,” she said quickly, shaking her head.

That will be difficult.

Kelvin blinked.

Why ma? Madame Helen smiled smooth and simple.

She is engaged.

She said her fiance’s people will be coming soon for the final marriage rights.

In a few weeks, Kelvin’s face changed.

Disappointment passed through his eyes clear and honest.

Engaged? He repeated softly.

“Yes,” Madame Helen said, then immediately brightened again as if she had a better solution ready.

But the good news is I have two beautiful daughters here,” she said, gesturing to Bianca and Linda.

“They are single and very beautiful.

” “Bianca’s smile returned quickly, sharper now.

” Linda straightened proudly.

Kelvin looked at them politely, but his interest didn’t rise the same way.

Still, he didn’t argue.

He stood up respectfully, forced a small smile, and bowed his head slightly.

“Thank you very much for hearing me out,” he said.

I appreciate it.

Madame Helen smiled widely.

You’re welcome.

Kelvin glanced once more toward Chica, one last look that felt like a question.

Then he turned and left the compound, still polite, still calm.

And Chica stood there silently, knowing something had just changed, even though she didn’t yet understand what it would cost her.

After Kelvin left that day, the compound returned to its usual noise.

But the house did not return to peace.

Chica went back to her chores.

Bianca and Linda went back to their sharp mouths.

Madame Helen went back to her tired silence.

Life continued, but something unseen had been planted, something that would not stay quiet for long.

A few days later, the gate flew open with loud footsteps and louder screams.

Bianca burst into the compound like someone who had just won a prize.

“Mommy!” she shouted, her voice shaking with excitement.

“Mommy!” Madame Helen came out quickly, startled.

What is it? What is the shouting for? Bianca ran straight to her, breathless, smiling so wide her cheeks looked tight.

Kelvin invited me out tonight.

She screamed again, jumping once like a child.

Tonight? Linda appeared behind them, curious and already smiling like she knew it would be good news for her, too.

Madame Helen’s face changed immediately.

The tiredness reduced.

Her eyes became brighter.

“Kelvin?” she asked as if she wanted to confirm it was the same name.

Yes, Bianca said almost laughing.

Mommy, you should have seen his car.

Linda leaned in.

What kind of car? Bianca lowered her voice a little, but she was still loud enough for Chica to hear from where she stood near the back.

The kind of car you don’t see every day, Bianca said proudly.

And that is only one.

You can tell he has many cars.

Madame Helen’s mouth opened slightly, impressed.

Bianca grabbed her phone immediately.

Wait, let me read his message.

She cleared her throat dramatically like she was about to perform for an audience.

Then she read, smiling at every word.

Hello, beautiful.

I just want to let you know that I’m home now and I can’t stop thinking about our conversation.

I’m really serious about settling down in no time.

Say hi to my future mother-in-law.

I will call you in the morning.

Good night, love.

Bianca screamed again, laughing now.

Future mother-in-law.

Madame Helen held her chest like the message had entered her heart.

“Oh God,” she whispered, looking upward for a second.

“So it is true.

” Linda clapped her hands lightly.

“Mommy, this is big.

” Chica stood quietly at the back, holding a small cloth.

She did not move.

She did not react.

But something heavy settled in her stomach.

because she understood something they didn’t even care to hide.

This was no longer just excitement.

This was a plan.

Bianca’s smile suddenly reduced.

A small shadow crossed her face, quick but real.

Then she leaned closer to Madame Helen and spoke in a lower, more serious voice.

“Mommy,” she said.

“There is a problem.

” Madame Helen’s eyes narrowed.

“What problem?” Bianca glanced toward Chica’s direction without turning her head fully.

“The engagement lie,” she whispered.

Kelvin might find out later that Chica was never engaged.

Linda’s eyes widened.

Madame Helen’s face tightened slowly as if she had just remembered a danger she had tried to forget.

Bianca continued, voice sharp with fear.

“Now if Kelvin finds out we lied, he will start asking questions.

And if he starts asking questions, he will remember he came here for Chica first.

The air changed.

Madame Helen did not answer immediately.

She stared ahead like she was calculating.

Then she said quietly.

So what do we do? Bianca didn’t hesitate.

We marry her off.

Linda nodded quickly like the answer was obvious.

Fast.

Bianca added before Kelvin comes again before he starts thinking.

Madame Helen’s lips pressed together.

Marry her off to who? Bianca spread her hands in frustration.

Any man.

Any man at all.

The important thing is that she leaves this house.

Linda suddenly snapped her fingers like she had been waiting for her moment.

I know someone.

Bianca turned.

Who? Linda lifted her chin proudly.

That poor man at the mall.

The one that was begging to marry her.

Madame Helen looked confused.

What poor man? Linda spoke faster, eager to prove she had an answer.

A few days ago, when I went to the mall with Chica, he was there.

He saw her and started talking.

He was acting like a desperate person.

He said he wanted to marry her.

Bianca scoffed, but she still leaned closer.

“Did you collect his number?” Linda smiled.

“Yes.

” Madame Helen’s face relaxed slightly for the first time.

“Call him,” she said.

“Tell him to come.

” Linda nodded.

I’ll invite him today.

The decision was made just like that.

Quick, cold, and final.

Chica was not called into the conversation.

Nobody asked what she wanted.

Nobody cared.

She was simply something they needed to remove.

Later that day, a knock sounded at the gate.

Chica was in the kitchen when she heard it, and her first instinct was fear.

These days, every knock sounded like trouble.

Madame Helen’s voice rang out from the sitting room.

Chica, come out.

Chica wiped her hands and stepped out slowly.

A man had entered the compound.

He stood near the sitting room entrance, his posture straight, his eyes calm but alert.

He was handsome, the kind of handsomeness that didn’t need effort.

He was also well-b built with the strong frame of someone who worked and moved a lot.

His clothes were neat, not expensive, but clean.

Madame Helen sat upright, studying him like someone inspecting goods.

Bianca was beside her, already wearing a fake polite smile.

Linda stood close too, looking proud as if she had brought a gift.

The man greeted respectfully.

“Good afternoon, Ma.

” “Good afternoon,” Madame Helen replied.

“Sit.

” He sat.

Madame Helen tilted her head.

My daughter said, “You have an intention.

” “Yes, Ma,” he replied calmly.

I came to ask for her hand in marriage.

Bianca couldn’t hold herself.

She laughed under her breath.

Madame Helen asked, “What do you do?” He cleared his throat.

I’m chief security officer at a large mall in Logos.

Madame Helen nodded slowly and as if she understood.

Bianca’s smile turned into open mockery.

“So, a gate man?” The man didn’t react.

He just looked down briefly, then back up, keeping his respect.

Madame Helen’s eyes stayed on him.

In her mind, she noticed how handsome he was, too handsome for Chica.

For a second, it almost irritated her, but then she reminded herself a handsome poor man was still a poor man.

And a poor man was exactly what she needed.

Madame Helen turned her head and called, “Chica.

” Chica stepped forward.

The man’s eyes lifted to her, and he went still for a moment.

Not in a rude way, in a surprised way, like he hadn’t expected her to look the way she did.

Because Chica was beautiful, even in her simple clothes.

Not the kind of beauty that begged for attention, but the kind that couldn’t be hidden easily.

Madame Helen forced a smile.

Chica, she said, this is Oena.

Obina stood up slightly.

Nice to meet you.

Chica nodded politely.

Good afternoon.

Madame Helen spoke quickly, not giving space for any real conversation to grow.

Obina wants to take you out, she said, to get to know you better.

You have my permission.

Chica’s eyes widened slightly.

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