Leo laughed. “Just concerned. I’m impressed by you.”
She tilted her head. “You should be. Not every child can do what I do.”
“You know you’re too young to be on the street. Where do you go after this?”
She clutched her bowl and looked around. “Questions again. You’re still blocking me. I have to move. I told you you’re scaring my potential clients. Rich face like yours. They’ll think I have backup. Let me go and hustle.”
“You gave that woman 100,000 naira for just one egg. That still pained me. That money was too much. If you have that kind of money to waste, you can be coming here every day. I’ll even save your space.”
Leo smiled, completely charmed by her spirit. “What’s your name again? Daisy, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, but only special people call me that. The rest call me Madam Small Madam or the boss. Pick your choice.”
Leo laughed again. “I’ll stick with Daisy.”
She turned to leave, then stopped. “Anyway, thank you for yesterday. That eggwoman has been quiet since then. You look scary, but the rich kind of scary. It’s useful.” She looked him over from head to toe, then smiled and waved. “Bye, sir. Don’t block my road again. And remember, no transfers—strictly cash.”
Leo watched her disappear into the crowd again. His chest tightened. He pulled out his phone and called his private investigator.
“I need you to follow a little girl discreetly—find out where she lives. I need to know everything.”
It had been a full week since Leo hired a private investigator to follow Daisy. Seven long days of pacing in his office, cancelling meetings, replaying her words in his head, and waking up in the middle of the night hearing that voice again.
“Daddy, please help me.”
He didn’t know what it was about her, but she lingered—her eyes, her confidence, her spirit. Something about that girl pulled out a wound he had buried years ago.
Then one evening, just as the sun was bleeding into the clouds, Leo’s phone rang. He grabbed it like a lifeline. It was the call he had been dying to receive all week.
“Sir,” the investigator said, “we found her. She lives in the inner part of Makoko off Old Church Road. Just her and her mother. No man in sight.”
Leo sat up, his voice steady but sharp. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve watched carefully. Her mother looks very sick. The girl is the one moving around and taking care of things. Neighbors say she’s been unwell for some time now.”
Leo didn’t even hesitate. “I’m coming there myself. Don’t send anyone. Just take me.”
That same afternoon, Leo dressed down. No flashy suit, no expensive cologne—just a plain black polo shirt, jeans, and loafers. He didn’t want to attract attention.
They arrived at a quiet, narrow street littered with rusted zinc rooftops, broken gutters, and smoke curling from small cooking sheds. It was the kind of place Leo hadn’t stepped foot in for over a decade.
The investigator pointed ahead. “That’s the house, sir.”
Leo stared at the small, weatherworn door ahead. The paint was peeling. There were cracks in the wall. His heart began to pound. He took slow, calculated steps forward. Then he knocked gently.
A soft voice responded from inside. “Who is it?”
The door creaked open and Leo froze.
The woman who stepped outside tied her wrapper tightly and adjusted the scarf on her head. She looked leaner than he remembered, her cheekbones sharper, her eyes tired. But Leo knew that face.
He staggered back in shock. “Faith.”
She stood still like a statue. Her eyes widened as if a ghost had just walked up to her. “Leo.”
They called each other’s names at the same time. Time paused. The noise from the street disappeared. The breeze felt heavier. They stood staring at each other—old pain, disbelief, and shock washing over them.
Before either of them could say another word, Faith swayed. Her legs buckled beneath her.
“Faith!” Leo lunged forward and caught her just in time before she collapsed fully.
“Open the car quickly!” he barked.
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