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Chapter 22

Author: Crystal hart
last update Last Updated: 2025-04-26 09:46:20

Zara stared at her screen, blinking hard as the email glowed back at her.

Subject: URGENT – Invitation to Abuja Modeling Campaign Shoot

From: Prestige Faces Africa

“Congratulations, Zara Tunde. Following your recent shoot with Ajah Agency and the widespread attention it garnered, we’re pleased to invite you to a high-profile commercial shoot in Abuja this weekend. All travel and accommodation will be covered. Talent compensation: $1,000 USD flat rate.”

Her heart skipped. Her hands began to shake. One thousand dollars? For one shoot?

She covered her mouth and sank slowly onto the edge of her bed, eyes still fixed on the email. This wasn’t a scam. It was real. This was the kind of break she had dreamed about. No catwalk, no competition—just a booked, paid commercial.

She quickly dialed Kemi.

“Kemi…” she whispered the moment the line connected. “They want me in Abuja. It’s real, Kemi. It’s happening. A thousand dollars!”

“What?!” Kemi screamed. “Zara, are you joking right now?!”

“No o! I swear! It’s from this agency in Abuja. They saw the Ajah pictures and contacted me through them. I have to go this weekend. They’ll cover everything!”

Kemi screamed. “Wait—what?! Did you say a thousand—Zara! That’s huge!”

Zara grinned. “I know! But I’m scared. My dad—”

Kemi cut her off. “Please. Don’t even bring him up. You are going.”

“But my dad… you know I can’t tell him the truth.”

Kemi was quiet for a second. Then her voice dropped to a mischievous tone. “Then we lie. What do you think I’ve been doing all this while?”

Zara giggled nervously. “Okay. What do we say?”

They brainstormed, giggling like high schoolers sneaking out for a party.

“Let’s keep it simple,” Kemi said. “Work seminar. A company training session for new staff. Very last-minute.”

“I’ll say they’re covering travel and accommodation. It’s too short-notice to say no.”

“And you’ll leave Friday evening, back by Sunday. Make sure your story stays straight.”

Later that night, Zara sat with her parents during dinner, barely touching her food.

“Daddy,” she said, trying not to tremble, “I was told today I have to attend a compulsory work seminar in Abuja this weekend. For all new staff.”

He raised a brow. “This late? Why didn’t they inform you earlier?”

“I don’t know, sir. They just gave me the memo today. It’s two days only. Everything’s covered.”

He eyed her silently. “You know I don’t like sudden travel.”

“Yes, sir. But I don’t have a choice.”

He grunted, unimpressed but too tired to argue. “Be ready before dawn on Friday. I don’t want calls.”

Zara exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Daddy.”

But after she left, her father’s suspicion brewed. He picked up the landline and called a contact who worked in the same firm.

“No sir,” the man responded. “There’s no seminar planned for any junior staff this weekend.”

Her father hung up slowly, face darkening.

After dinner that night, Zara retired to her room

Her only place of comfort around the house

Zara stared at her screen, hands trembling as she read the email again.

Subject: URGENT – Invitation to Abuja Modeling Campaign Shoot

From: Prestige Faces Africa

“Congratulations, Zara Tunde. Following your recent shoot with Ajah Agency and the widespread attention it garnered, we’re pleased to invite you to a high-profile commercial shoot in Abuja this weekend. All travel and accommodation will be covered. Talent compensation: $1,000 USD flat rate.”

She couldn’t breathe.

One thousand dollars. A paid job. Not a promise, not a dream—this was real.

A light knock came on her door. “Zara?”

It was her mother.

Zara quickly minimized the email and cleared her throat. “Come in, Mum.”

Her mother stepped in, arms folded with that calm, perceptive look she always wore when she already knew something.

“Zara, omomi,” she said gently, “I know you’re not going to Abuja for any office seminar. Just tell me the big news.”

Zara blinked, shocked. “Mum…”

Her mother smiled faintly and sat beside her on the bed. “I may not say much, but I see everything. What is it?”

Zara hesitated, then pulled up the email and turned the screen toward her.

“This,” she whispered. “This is what I’ve been praying for.”

Her mother read the message, eyes softening. “A thousand dollars?”

“It’s a commercial shoot. For a big brand. Prestige Faces Africa. They saw my Ajah pictures online… Mum, I didn’t even apply. They reached out to me.”

Her mother looked at her for a long moment, then reached out and touched her cheek.

“I’m proud of you,” she said. “But you know your father won’t understand.”

Zara nodded. “I know.”

Meanwhile, across the city, Regan reclined on a leather chair in his study while his investigator stood before him.

“She’s traveling this weekend,” the man said. “But it’s not office-related. That much I’m sure of.”

Regan narrowed his eyes. “Then what is it?”

The man shook his head. “I haven’t figured that out yet. But I did manage to trace the hotel she’ll be hosted in. It’s in Wuse II, Abuja. Five-star.”

Regan’s jaw clenched. “Send me the address.”

Friday arrived swiftly. Zara packed lightly but with excitement buzzing through every limb. Her mother kissed her cheek and handed her a small envelope.

“Just in case you need extra cash,” she said with a wink.

As the car pulled away, Zara had no idea another flight was being booked at the same time.

Regan Kareem was heading to Abuja.

Not because he knew what she was doing…

But because something told him—

Zara was hiding again.

In Abuja, Zara arrived to five-star treatment. A personal driver picked her up from the airport. The hotel suite was jaw-dropping—glass walls, gold accents, a soft king-sized bed that looked like a cloud.

She and Kemi texted nonstop.

Kemi: You’re literally living my dream. Have you seen the room service menu?

Zara: I almost cried when I saw the bathtub.

Her fitting was perfect. Hair and makeup were done by pros who treated her like royalty.

It felt unreal—until she stepped onto the shoot floor.

The lights flared. The director gave orders. Cameras clicked.

Then she saw him.

Regan.

Leaning against a corner, arms folded, gaze fixed.

She froze for just a second before snapping into pose again.

He didn’t move. Just watched.

By the time the shoot ended, he was gone.

Or so she thought.

She checked her phone. One message.

Regan: Nice seminar, by the way. High heels and foundation must be the new dress code.

Zara’s stomach dropped.

Then her screen lit up again.

Dad. Calling.

She declined the call, her fingers shaking.

Then she texted Kemi:

Zara: He knows. And Regan is here. In Abuja.

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