Barefoot and wrapped in a faded cotton dress, 16-year-old Lila knew every crack in the Port Harcourt pavement. She sold roasted groundnuts by the busy road, calling out to passersby from dawn till dusk. Life was hard—she slept under a market stall, ate what she could earn, and learned long ago to trust no one but herself.
One rainy evening, as traffic crawled along the main road, a sleek black official car slowed to a halt at the checkpoint. In the rush of a sudden downpour, the rear door swung open for a moment, then slammed shut again as the vehicle pulled away. Lila’s eyes caught something: a dark leather briefcase, left abandoned by the roadside half-hidden in mud.
When she drew close and unzipped it just a little, her breath caught. Inside were stacks of documents, a heavy seal embossed with state emblems, and bundles of money—more than she had ever seen in her life. This was no ordinary bag. It belonged to Governor Oluwole, the highest man in the land.
