Writers 
PART ONE: SHE CHOSE MONEY
Opening Hook
The woman I had loved for four years looked me straight in the eyes and told me she was leaving me for another man.
The worst part?
She didn't even look sorry.
"David," Amara said quietly, "I think we should end this relationship."
I stared at her.
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what I had just heard.
We were sitting inside my small room in Kubwa, Abuja. The old standing fan beside the window was making a disturbing clicking sound, and the noise from the street entered through the half-open window.
I had been planning our future that evening.
She was planning her escape.
"What did you say?" I asked.
"I said we should end things."
I laughed nervously.
"You're joking, right?"
She shook her head.
"No."
My smile disappeared.
"Why?"
She looked down at her hands.
"I'm tired, David."
"Tired of what?"
"Everything."
I stood up.
"Amara, we've been through difficult times before."
"I know."
"We'll get through this too."
She shook her head.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
"No, David."
She finally looked at me.
"You've been saying that for four years."
Her words hit me hard.
Four years.
That was how long we had been together.
I met Amara at university. She was studying accounting, while I was studying computer science.
Neither of us had much money.
But we had dreams.
We used to sit under a tree after lectures and talk about the kind of house we would have one day.
She wanted a beautiful kitchen.
I wanted a small office where I could work on my software.
We promised each other that when we became successful, we would remember the days when we had nothing.
After graduation, reality became harder.
I couldn't find a good job.
I started designing websites and repairing phones from my small room.
Some days I earned money.
Other days I couldn't even afford food.
Amara knew.
She had helped me many times.
There were nights when she bought me dinner.
There were days when she sent me money for data.
Whenever I became discouraged, she would hold my hand and say:
"David, don't worry. One day we'll make it."
I believed her.
So I couldn't understand why she was leaving.
"Is this about money?" I asked.
She remained silent.
"Amara?"
She sighed.
"Someone else has proposed to me."
My heart stopped.
"Who?"
"His name is Kelvin."
I stared at her.
"Kelvin?"
She showed me a picture on her phone.
A well-dressed man stood beside a black Mercedes-Benz.
He looked wealthy.
Very wealthy.
"Who is he?"
"He owns several businesses."
"And?"
"He wants to marry me."
I laughed bitterly.
"So you're leaving me for a rich man?"
She didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
"Do you love him?"
She looked at me.
"I don't know."
"Then why are you leaving?"
She took a deep breath.
"Because he can give me the life I want."
I felt something inside me break.
"After everything we've been through?"
"I appreciate everything you've done for me."
"Appreciate?"
I shook my head.
"Amara, I loved you."
"I know."
"No. You don't."
My voice cracked.
"If you knew, you wouldn't be doing this."
She picked up her handbag.
Before she left, I asked her one final question.
"Do you still love me?"
She stopped at the door.
For several seconds, she didn't answer.
Then she whispered:
"I love the life he can give me."
And she walked away.
Three weeks later, Amara married Kelvin.
The pictures appeared online.
Luxury cars.
Expensive clothes.
A beautiful wedding hall.
Hundreds of guests.
Amara looked happy.
I blocked her number.
I deleted her pictures.
Then I made myself a promise.
I would never allow anyone to see me broken again.
What Amara didn't know was that the same week she left me, something unexpected happened.
A company in Lagos contacted me about a software project I had been developing.
They offered me a contract.
The payment was more money than I had ever seen in my life.
I accepted.
For the next two years, I worked harder than I had ever worked.
One project became two.
Two became five.
Eventually, I started my own technology company.
My life changed.
The small room in Kubwa became a beautiful apartment in Maitama.
I bought my first car.
Then another.
People who once ignored my calls suddenly wanted to meet me.
People who had laughed at my dreams began calling me "boss."
But I never contacted Amara.
I had learned to live without her.
Until one Friday evening, two years after she left me, my phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
The number wasn't saved.
I answered.
"Hello?"
There was silence.
Then a familiar voice whispered:
"David?"
I froze.
It was Amara.
"How did you get my number?"
"I asked someone."
"What do you want?"
She began crying.
"I need your help."
I leaned back in my chair.
"Why?"
"I'm in trouble."
"What kind of trouble?"
Her voice trembled.
"Kelvin isn't the man I thought he was."
I became silent.
"Where are you?"
"At my mother's house."
"Are you safe?"
"For now."
Then she whispered:
"David, please come."
I didn't know it then, but that phone call was the beginning of a secret that would change everything I believed about our relationship.
And the truth would be far more dangerous than a broken heart.
CLIFFHANGER
**Because Kelvin hadn't married Amara simply because he loved her.
He had married her because he wanted something that belonged to me.
