Dangerous love

Being a successful career woman with a multi-million-dollar company that’s known across the

globe doesn’t make me immune to society’s quiet judgment about my marital status.

Yes—this is my story.

My name is Telissa Eze, I’m a 32-year-old Single lady from Imo State, Nigeria. I’m beautiful with

naturally endowed curves in the right places that will make you turn while I walk past you. Also

CEO of Tes-Tech, a tech empire headquartered in Lagos with shareholders scattered around the

world. I built this company from scratch, fueled by the unwavering support of my only surviving

sibling—Katie Eze, my eldest and only sister. She’s been my backbone since day one.

We’ve had to be everything to each other ever since tragedy struck. Twenty-four years ago, our

parents died in a ghastly motor accident, leaving us orphans overnight. Katie stepped up as my

family, my best friend, and now, as a versatile cybersecurity guru, she’s making waves through

partnerships with top firms in the USA.

But enough of my pep talk.

Today, I’m “celebrating” my third failed relationship in just two years. I’m a hopeless

romantic who still believes in genuine love, but reality keeps handing me heartbreaks. Maybe

there’s no great love written in my stars. At least I still have my company… for now, that’s the

love that stays.

***Phone ringing***

The shrill ringtone cuts through my thoughts. I grab my phone.

“Tim, hi!”

“Hey, slow down, I can barely hear you. I’ll be at the office in 30 minutes—keep the board busy

till I get there.”

***Call ended***

Lagos morning traffic is a beast. I slam my horn, urging the driver ahead to move.

Why didn’t I let my driver handle this today? I grumble to myself.

Instead, here I am—stuck in traffic, inching forward, knowing my board members are already

waiting for our monthly review.

By the time I finally pull into the underground parking lot, my nerves are frayed. The traffic has

left me with a mild headache, and my lipstick looks like it’s been through a minor hurricane.

Stepping out, I switch into CEO mode—the version of me the world knows. Back straight. Chin

high. Eyes sharp. The mask slides on so smoothly, you’d never guess I was just replaying the

ruins of my love life a few minutes ago.

The elevator ride to the 15th floor is quiet except for the hum of my thoughts. As the doors open,

the soft click of expensive shoes against marble greets me—along with the sight of my board

members already seated. Their eyes flicker up in unison, a silent reminder that I’m late.

“Good morning, everyone,” I say, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

Tim catches my gaze, giving a small nod—our silent language for “We’ll talk later.”

The meeting begins, but my mind dances between the financial charts on the screen and the

invisible weight in my chest. I hear words like “share growth,” “new contracts,” and “foreign

investment,” but in the quiet spaces between the presentations, I’m wondering if anyone in this

room realizes their iron-willed CEO just went home alone last night… again.

*Katie’s name flashes on my phone.**

I mute it.

Not because I don’t want to hear her voice, but because right now, I’m not sure I can keep my

own from cracking.

The numbers are strong. The projections, even stronger. But as I wrap up the meeting and

applause fills the boardroom, I can’t shake the thought—I’m winning everywhere except where

it matters most.

The meeting wraps up, and as I gather my files, my phone buzzes again. Katie.

I step into my office before answering.

“Hey, sis,” I say, my tone softening instantly.

“You sound tired,” she replies, her voice laced with that familiar mix of concern and big-sister

authority. “Have lunch with Tim. My treat. You’ve been in CEO mode for too long—celebrate

the numbers.”

I chuckle. “Katie, you’re halfway across the Atlantic, but somehow still managing my social

calendar.”

“That’s what sisters are for. Go. And don’t argue.”

Before I can protest, she hangs up.

**at the restaurant**

Tim is already waiting when I arrive, scrolling through his tablet, and probably reviewing some

code that only makes sense to people like us. He stands when he sees me, pulling out my chair

with a small smile.

“Congrats on the quarterly figures, boss,” he says.

I roll my eyes. “Drop the ‘boss,’ Tim. We’re off-duty.”

“Fine. Congrats, Telissa.”

We order, and soon the table is alive with the scent of grilled fish and jollof rice. Between bites,

We trade light banter about product launches, system upgrades, and how far Tes-Tech has come.

It feels… good. Simple.

I catch Tim’s gaze lingering a moment too long, the way his eyes soften when I laugh. I pretend

not to notice. The company’s policy on workplace relationships is strict, and I’m not about to

bend it—especially for someone as valuable to Tes-Tech as Tim.

“This is a big deal,” he says, raising his glass. “From two sisters with nothing, to a company

that’s shaping tech in Africa.”

I clink my glass against his. “Here’s to Tes-Tech.”

Katie calls mid-lunch

“Put me on speaker,” she demands the moment I answer.

Tim smiles, greeting her warmly.

“Listen, T,” Katie begins, her tone shifting to something sharper, more serious. “You’ve got to

stay away from men like Kelvin and Femi.”

I groan. “We’re doing this now?”

“Yes,” she insists. “Kelvin was a sweet-talker with an empty bank account and a loaded sense of

entitlement. And Femi—don’t even get me started. That man was a narcissist in designer suits.

Do you remember what he said?”

My jaw tightens at the memory.

Katie continues, “He wanted you to step down as CEO once you got married, hand over Tes

Tech like it was some wedding gift. That wasn’t love, T—it was ambition dressed up as

romance.”

Tim’s eyes flicker toward me, but he stays silent, letting Katie’s words hang in the air.

I laugh it off, but my chest feels heavy.

“Relax, sis,” I say, forcing a lightness I don’t feel. “The only relationship I’m committed to right now

is with Tes-Tech.”

Katie sighs. “Good. Keep it that way—until you meet someone who loves you for you, not for

what you’ve built.”

The call ends, but the weight of her warning lingers.

we bid our farewell as the heart dances to its rhythm in hugs.