Thursday, 21 June 2018


This is purely a Nigerian book, so yes you will definitely come across pidgin English and other
Nigerian slangs. I will give the meanings not to worry. But if you don't feel comfortable reading,
it's up to you. But give it a try. Events and characters are clearly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events and characters are highly coincidental.
I have full rights over this book. Translation isn't allowed, you should inform me first but that
doesn't changes anything. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, mechanical, printing, recording or otherwise) without the prior permission of the writer. Phew! Thank God we're finally done with that, now enjoy : ) The prologue is a bit too descriptive, if you don't want to read it, you can go to the first chapter. No vital info here just a look into her background and what triggered the first chapter.

Genevieve scrunched up another piece of paper into a mediocre ball and swiftly tossed it in a trash can lying at the far end of her room. If it was any other day, she would have rejoiced in excitement for an impressive throw. She groaned loudly, in a not-so girly tone followed by a stray sob.
She hit her head against the wall in front of her, crying slightly at the harsh impact the minuscule act gave her. She needed inspiration and she wasn't getting any. Writing has always been Genevieve's passion, it was a talent she thanked the Almighty for. Finishing secondary school at the top of her class was a great accomplishment on her part. Her dream was to become a diplomat then maybe write a few books and enhance her goals.
Her hopes and aspirations got temporarily flushed in the big hole when her father died of a cardiac arrest in a foreign state. She remembered how ecstatic her siblings and Mum were over the business trip, he was finally getting a promotion after years of fervent prayers, little did they know that the few joyous moments with their father that night was going to be the last.
She didn't further her education, she forced her mother not to continually take huge part in her schooling expenses. Her siblings needed it more. Mrs Miller was just a mere housewife, who was lavished and intoxicated with the packages that came with marrying a wealthy man. And now she rented an affordable shop to make an effort in regaining that fine and luxurious life her late husband bestowed them with.
Genevieve took it upon herself to help and assist her Mum in any way she possibly can- by searching available jobs online; ranging from being an usher, a brand ambassador, waitress. You name it. She needed to save up for the university, she just turned twenty and she knew she wasn't getting any younger.
"Genevieve!" Mrs Miller called from the sitting room, making Genevieve jolt in her seat. She groaned inwardly, refusing to let her Mum curse on a holy Sunday evening.
"Just a second!" She bleated feebly then weaved her way to the sitting room where her Mum was sprawled in on one of the couches. A house her father built but never got a chance to rest his tender head in. How devastating!
She relaxed on a cushion close to the wall and scanned the living room, in search of her little siblings, Mrs Miller smiled, reading her eldest child's mind, she sat up and motioned to the front door. Genevieve gave a subtle nod and peered at her Mum's middle-aged face. It was getting pale due to lack of refurbishment. But she knew deep within her that it was coming to an end pretty soon.
"Aren't you going to complain about your salary? It's been a month and they refused to pay you, aren't you bothered?" Mrs Miller asked the inevitable question, wrinkling her forehead in the process.
Genevieve simply shrugged, becoming dumb suddenly. It was one of those activation jobs she resolutely picked some weeks ago. She was a brand ambassador for a well-known establishment referred to as 'coker enterprises'. It was one of the leading industries in the whole of Africa which specialises in the production of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks. It didn't stop there. They also owned various hotels and exquisite restaurants. She researched all about them for the previous casting.
It was only a month's job and she wondered why she was refused of her payment when her coworkers were paid fully.
"What kind of a thing is that now? They shouldn't rub you off your hard earned money" Mrs Miller continued, visibly annoyed at the imprudence the Multi-billionaire company were getting on. It was true though. It was a tough job, canvassing to strangers about a brand and patiently getting their interests on it and making sure they got it. To top it all off, it was in a bar. She worked all through the evenings in a pool of her own sweat. She remembered how harsh her supervisors were, not sparing her a minute to get her aching butt on a chair.
"Mum what do you suppose I do then?" she asked eagerly waiting for a response. Her mum didn't help getting an idea, all she does is complain and curse, pertaining the job.
"Go to the company my child, I heard one of their sites is at Victoria island. Make a move, instead of waiting for manner to fall from above" Mrs Miller explained vividly to her child then shook her head before going into the kitchen, leaving her daughter in a puzzled state.

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