The ballroom of the Transcorp Hilton was a sea of glittering gowns and tailored agbadas. The air hummed with the soft clinking of champagne glasses and the low, murmur of powerful voices. Nkechi stood beside Chief, a vision in the gold dress he had bought for her. It was backless, with a high slit that ran up her thigh, a deliberate, provocative choice. She was the perfect accessory: beautiful, poised, and silent.

But beneath the poised exterior, she was a mess of nerves and anticipation. ...