ADAMAWA STATE, NIGERIA.

Fatima awoke with the sound of her ringtone blaring from beneath her pillow making her groan in annoyance but also need that so she can go feed her stomach. She wants to eat, go through her camera before she goes back to sleep again knowing she had nothing to do till the next day again at school. That argument with that stupid police officer took a toll over her mental health that she needs more time to relax before handling anyone else.

Checking the caller ID, it was Betsy and instantly, she knew why the girl called but she answered anyway.

"I got so curious that I can't wait for tomorrow. Who was that hotie?" Her voice gave everything away, she is totally smitten by the police officer like all the female population around that saw him or even glimpse of him. She is now his aficionado too, bad choice.

She knew he was going to be the talk of the town for a long time, she hates having the attention being taken from her. Fatima loves attention being solely on her so as soon as she thinks something is going to swerve the attention off of her, she tries another stunt to bring it back. If she can't get that in the confines of four walls, she can get it in the vast world which is how she aims it.

She felt cathartic with the mere mention of his name. "The witch's nephew. That is besides what we want now, is it?" She kept quite for a little, giving Betsy the time to arrange herself together. "Search everything you can about him and send it to me immediately."

"Yes, bossy boss." Betsy mocked in a ribald way then hung up the phone to get the work done. That is why they are closer, she can hack into anyone's computer and Fatima needs all information she could get before she strikes.

"Come here, Leo." She summoned her black cat sighting him on his bed by the farther end of the room.

"Have you eaten?" The cat yawned, eyes looming with sleep but he looks well fed which means her personal maid did feed him like she is supposed to, remaining her. Feeding the cat isn't cinch, hats off to the woman. Normally, she is the only one that gets to him.

She buzzed the intercom beside her on the bedside table and told the maid to bring some food for her. She didn't bother specifying what she wants, the lady should know since they've been together for long and she knows what she wants and what time too. The woman is the only person she tolerates in that whole mansion, it is not news that she hates people and most especially nosey ones.

She stood up and made her way to her closet, removed a rouge night shirt and wrestled inside it feeling the soft cotton falling mildly on her lower thigh. Her eyes fell on the mirror taking off one whole wall and she grimaced at the sight of her hair tangled in a mess like a bird's nest. She does not have long hair, the exact opposite actually because if she packs it up in a ponytail, it makes a small ball worth an orange.

It irritates her to no end because she's used each cream to have ever existed for longer hair but to no avail. She did all those tricks from YouTube, rice water and all those shit didn't work out too so she stopped trying and just let it be. She decided to capitulate and cede. She only stretches it when it's needed or ask her personal maid to pleat it for her whenever she feels drained of combing it as if it wants to come off her head.

And it is not soft, not anything cute like those protagonists talk about. Seriously, they should stop exaggerating silky hairs or she won't read.

"Your early dinner is here, Maah." Her personal maid called out from her room and she smiled. Finally, someone she could talk to without feeling constricted and forced. Or maybe, the strong urge to annihilate someone.

"I'm coming, Asabe." She called out before slipping her comfortable furry flip-flops and left the closet.

"Yau ran ki ya baci ko? Naji kina ta fada da Hajiya Adeelah; You were mad today weren't you? I heard your yells earlier with Hajiya Adeelah." Asabe questioned, keeping the plate filled with food -veggie pizza on whole, wheat bread loaded with vegetables and cheese plus Greek yoghurt with banana and blueberry - for Fatima on her desk.

"I don't want to talk about it, Asabe. Let's go to the balcony, the sun is about to set." She made her way there to the aforementioned location, Asabe following her in tow.

The place is narrow, it has length but no width. The walls closing the balcony from up to down is glass, overlooking the vast backyard and the other quarters behind. One of them which Ahmad will be staying in but she doesn't know that neither does she want to.

There's a shelf at the end of the place facing the door they just walked through, a nude pink Ottoman and a white swing chair attached to the ceiling. She made her way to the swing and sat down, Asabe occupied the ottoman after placing the food in front of her. If someone sees the plate, they'd never think she will deplete it but she thinks it's actually modicum.

She enjoyed her pizza while conversing lightly with Asabe. After she was done, she folded both her legs Indian style on the swing while excitedly waiting for the sun to set so she could capture it's beauty. It was the sole reason she took that part of the house anyway. It gives her stellar of merriment, makes life worth living.

Something caught her attention though, the stupid boor from earlier just walked past to an empty quarters in the backyard that isn't what took her attention though, it was his gait and swag.

She hardly ever notices anything related to men or people entirely but this, she can't just watch it past. Her eyes suddenly zeroed to him solely because it is the enigma and mystery surrounding his mere debonair and suave sheaf in his walk. How can someone's way of walking have you hooked like he has something stuck to his butt that you are watching interestingly?

He walks with purpose, as if he knows what his future has in store for him. His wide shoulders squared back, he walks with wide steps since his legs are tall and long too, looking extremely strong. He also looks relaxed, allowing his arms to swing in a way you take lessons to understand. She's been a nitpick, taking off the each minutiae regarding the man.

There are miscellanea of it, she cannot gather them all.

She lowered her chins to her chest, really determined to find out what made him so bold and confident in his whole stance and demeanor. She tilted it to the right, her body perking up from the swing as if to see more. She shushed Asabe from rambling some more to get more focused on her new task of boredom. She is never hanged like that, her attention is always off balance so it's surprising how she still focused on this.

"He is one fine man, huh?" Asabe couldn't just keep her mouth shut after allowing her eyes to follow where Fatima's passed through.

"He really is a handsome man but he's touched something he shouldn't and shall pay for it. He won't be that pretty when I'm done with him." She made a tsk sound, still watching the man getting hit by the sunset she is supposed to be watching.

There is no doubt he is the most handsome man she has ever seen her whole life. He looks like a celebrity, she can't just place a hand on which of the celebrities. She's seen him maybe once or twice in the television, not just his name will sit on her head. Well, that is beside the point now.

Asabe got curious, she's heard commotions earlier but didn't know exactly what it is that has happened. "Anything bad he did?" Her bad English came up, she likes speaking in English when talking to Fatima so she can feel among.

She pursed her lips, leaning her head on the rope of the swing before she answered, as if it is taking all the strength in her to talk about the man that ruined her mood for the rest of the week. "He's spoiled his own happiness with his bare hands."

"This is bad." Asabe blinked, taking the plate away from Fatima and stood up only to turn back around and offer. "I've got another new hair cream if you want? Heard from the maids that it works magically so I thought we should try it? Just give it a try and see."

Fatima snorted, as if any cream will work on her at this rate. All the creams known to mankind has been used on her head, that is the truth. She is always on Instagram searching up the best hair cream that works 'magically' or on YouTube trying this recipe to that. At one point she would sleep early after one hair treatment hoping and wishing she will wake up with a full head but it never happened.

She's lost all hope now, nothing could motivate her into wanting longer hair now. The fact that her stepmother and stepsister have full natural hair also irks her to no end, they don't even take care of it like she does hers. It is as if they don't care whether it grows or not but here she is, packing and jamming all that comes her way on her head to have it long. It is close to being unfair, she sulked.

It's as though Allah gives the ones that don't want it and the ones that do just have to suffer till they give up like her situation, seriously. She is not blaming or judging His judgement, just saying out what she thinks in happening in the universe. She is sure He loves her like that, He created her that way after all. He has something better for her.

So with another snorted breath, she answered. "Another one won't hurt." She shrugged, lying back on the swing, staring at the horizon where the sun is slowly getting enshrouded with the ominous obsidian colour enveloping the beautiful hues.

*

"I've got all the information's we need. I wanted to send it to you through email then remembered that you don't even check em out now. Let's go sit over there before the rest arrive." Betsy informed, pointing at the garden behind their department where they can sit quietly without anyone disturbing them.

Fatima's brows rose, feeling the questions bubbling inside of her at the thought of Betsy wanting to sit down before spurting out the news she's got about a certain foreign ACP. "Is it worth it?"

"I think so. Just let's go already." Betsy beseeched, eager to have her bum on the plastic chair then open the manilla envelope in her hand. Sometimes she feels like a real private investigator with the way she works.

Fatima's eyes as sharp as a snake's gave her a warning glance that clearly states this should be worth her time and going to some garden. "It better be worth it, Bets."

"First, the man is totally not Nigerian!" Betsy beamed, opening the manilla envelope, her smile widening with each fold getting unfolded. She fell hopelessly for the guy, he looks like Alfred Enoch, who wouldn't love him? She even thought they were related, they look too much alike for peace of mind. She saw their photo together on internet, both of them surprised with how much they look like one another.

Fatima made an acerbic face then asked in disbelieve. "So? American, Ethiopian, Aussie, Italian or Bulgarian doesn't matter. Go down what I want to know and can use against him."

Betsy pressed her lips into thin line, she is not crazy for crushing on the man. "His mother is Nigerian, your stepmother's older sister while his father is an American Hafiz Al-hakim.

"He's had a past with his father which is totally not pleasant from the things I've gathered. His father did something terrible which ruined their relationship and also our ACP's dreams. He is supposed to take over his father's empire but he didn't and instead joined the police academy at tender age. That is not all, the said father did something again five years ago that shattered all glimpse of their family's happiness.

"He also have a son, Zafar but they shroud it and made it look like he is his stepbrother to avoid answering questions. I don't know whether he's been married before or had drunken affair to get a son but that is what I found out. All in all, the man is a workaholic and have only his mother and son then distant family relatives in California. I don't think there is anything we can use against him except his son though I think we should not use the poor kid."

Fatima fold her arms underneath her bosom, eyes pierced into Betsy's in disbelieve. "Why the heck shouldn't we? Are you going soft on him because he is American or shit like that?"

"You know that is not it. Using a kid in this should be a sensitive topic to you too, Maah. That is why I think we shouldn't." The serious Betsy is back, giving advise and hinting the sour past they both don't want to reap out.

Fatima knew she was right so she reluctantly nodded and permit her brain to snuck out around her cranium. There is nothing she can use from his story except for the kid, how is she to take her revenge like this? Why is the guy too good without a bad record as a police officer? They always have something hidden in their closets so it is surprising that this man lacks any hint of malevolent record in his own file.

Who is she again?

Yes, Fatima Musa Babagana and she'd be damned if she doesn't ruin this image of his. If he is not a bad person, he would loathe nothing more than the flawless perfect image getting withered and fordo. That is the perfect loop she should drag and straighten out the bads and goods into one fold. He really shouldn't have messed with her.

"I have a plan, it happens tonight." A sadistic smile took over her face, her head inclined to the sad like a sadist but she is not. That side of hers only sprout out when someone touches her and ACP happened to do more than touching.

"Please don't tell me it is something horrendous. It should be light please. The guy is fine." Betsy blinked her eyes but a smile is trying to take over her facial features. She loves when she is given assignment and love it more if she is given the chance to execute it.

It gingers her life.

Fatima bit her lower lip mildly so as to not lick off the whole Kylie Jenner new brand lipstick from her lips. That is her way of biting back her smile. "Not that bad, just the cliché thing that happens to them all. I won't make it extreme... for now."

With that, Fatima told Betsy all that needs to be done and the person they need to add in that plan of theirs who happens to be Hayaat. The girls are yet to come down from their dorms, they will get filled in as soon as they do but for then, they need to tackle it by themselves. If anyone knows the extreme measures Fatima takes, they'd say the same thing Betsy whispered.

"Why does it sound too light? Is it because he is American?" She laughed at her own joke, retorting back what Fatima mocked her about just minutes ago.

It's Fatima turn to chortle, that sound that feels hollow in her chest. It is always foreign to her if those reactions auditioned themselves on her, it feels weird and wacko. "It is light because he does not need to know who I really am and how I play my game. He should think I am this weakling in case if he wants to strike back. If he does, that is where the real game begins."