Chapter one
The house that shots it's doors
Chapter 1: The House That Shut Its Doors
Rain fell in torrents that night, as if the heavens wept for her. The streets of Enugu shimmered under the flickering glow of streetlamps, but Xoxo's path was lit by nothing but heartbreak. Her clothes clung to her body, soaked through, her stomach—five months swollen—cramping slightly with each painful step.
"Don't come back here again!" her mother's voice echoed in her ears, the slap still stinging her cheek more than the cold wind ever could.
Xoxo didn't cry. Not because it didn't hurt, but because she'd already shed every tear her eyes could afford in the last two months. Her father hadn't even looked at her. Her brothers stood with their arms folded, jaws clenched in shame—as if it were her fault she had been used and left with child.
No one had asked her what happened. No one had wanted to hear.
They only saw her shame. Not her pain.
And so, she walked.
Three hours later, after wandering aimlessly, she found herself in front of an old, fading bungalow with rusted gates and bushes threatening to swallow it whole. Her feet paused.
Grandma's house.
She had nowhere else to go.
Xoxo knocked feebly on the metal gate. It groaned louder than thunder. Moments later, a light flickered on inside, and a familiar silhouette appeared.
"Xoxo?" came the old, cracking voice.
The gate opened, and Mama Ada stood in her wrapper and scarf, her eyes wide as they swept over the trembling girl before her.
"Oh, my child…"
Xoxo fell into her arms and, at last, wept.
Two weeks passed in quiet refuge. Her grandmother fed her, cleaned her wounds, and massaged her swollen legs. She never asked for the father's name. Never judged. Only prayed.
One evening, as the sun dipped beyond the hills, Mama Ada called Xoxo to the back of the house. She held a velvet pouch in one hand and a clay cup of palm wine in the other.
"This belonged to your great-grandmother," she said, placing the pouch in Xoxo's hand. "It is not ordinary."
Xoxo opened it slowly. A golden amulet, shaped like a flame, shimmered with an inner light.
"When your child is born," Mama Ada said, her eyes serious, "split this into two and give one part to her. It will protect her. It will lead you back to her… if she's ever taken from you."
Xoxo blinked. "Taken?"
"Child, life does not always ask for permission before it steals from you. I've seen things. This amulet… it calls to your bloodline."
"But how does it work?"
Mama Ada smiled sadly. "It will show you… when the time is right."
Two days later, Xoxo stood at the motor park with a single Ghana-Must-Go bag, a worn phone, and a dream. Her grandmother pressed N20,000 into her hand, nearly all she had.
"Go to Abuja," she whispered. "Start fresh. Forget those who failed you."
Xoxo didn't look back.
Abuja was loud. Fast. Harsh.
Xoxo found a cheap room in a woman's compound in Gwagwalada. Her neighbors gossiped about her belly. They offered stares instead of help. Still, she rose each morning, walking into shops, cleaning salons, sweeping offices—offering herself for work.
Eventually, a small cleaning job opened at Hassani Estates, a wealthy neighborhood with thick gates, quiet roads, and more marble than mercy.
She worked there six days a week. Polished floors, cleaned toilets, even took on washing and ironing clothes for the older maids. She rarely sat down, despite the weight she carried. When she was offered food, she always saved some for later. For the baby.
Xoxo was scrubbing the marble steps of the grandest mansion on her street when a shadow fell over her.
She looked up.
A tall, dark-skinned man in a navy kaftan stood watching her, arms folded behind his back. He wasn't glaring—just observing.
"You're the one cleaning for Mrs. Duru?" he asked.
"Yes sir," she replied, quickly rising.
"You work hard," he said. "You're pregnant, yet you're still out here hustling. I like that."
He paused, then added, "My name is Chief Ebube Hassani. That's my house."
Xoxo bowed slightly. "Good evening, sir."
Chief Ebube smiled faintly. "Would you like a better life, girl?"
She thought it was a joke. But the next day, he invited her inside.
"I have a son," he said, seated in a lounge larger than her entire compound. "His name is Uzo. Six months ago, he had an accident. He's alive, but… damaged. Emotionally. Physically. His mother and I— we're tired of watching him rot."
Xoxo sat stiffly, unsure where this was going.
"I need a girl like you," Chief Ebube continued, "strong, smart, patient… to marry him."
Xoxo's jaw dropped. "Marry, sir?"
"I will take care of you. Of your child. You'll have staff, a home, status. All I ask is loyalty. And compassion. You don't even need to... lie with him. He cannot. He is impotent now."
"Why me?" she asked.
"Because you know pain," he said simply.
It sounded like madness. But Xoxo saw the opportunity. Her child would never suffer like she did. She wouldn't have to beg. And if her husband truly couldn't touch her…
She agreed.
The marriage was small. A few signatures. A tight-lipped Uzo, pale and stiff, didn't even look at her as they took photos. He walked with a cane. Smelled of cologne and bitterness. She barely recognized him.
She didn't recognize him.
Not until that night, when he touched her wrist.
Her body remembered first. The pressure. The violation.
Then the memory slammed into her like a thunderbolt.
The club. The dark corner. The hands.
His face.
Xoxo went cold.
He didn't recognize her.
But she recognized him.
She couldn't breathe.
Her new husband—the man everyone pitied—was the same man who defiled her.
Her child's father.
The monster behind her ruin.
She thought of running. Screaming. Telling Chief Ebube everything.
But then she thought of the baby.
What if he threw them out? What if they ended up on the street again?
She swallowed her pain. Locked the memory away.
For now.
Six weeks later, she gave birth to twin girls.
One came out wailing like thunder. The other, quiet as snow. Both were beautiful.
She sobbed as they laid them in her arms.
Then, trembling, she pulled out the amulet.
It glowed in her hand—hot, almost pulsing. The pain in her chest twisted as she broke it into two and placed half in each baby's palm.
One twin blinked—and the nurse screamed.
A gash on the doctor's arm healed instantly where the baby's hand brushed him.
The other twin? Her eyes shimmered like golden dawn. The nurses whispered of angels.
Xoxo smiled.
Maybe they were her redemption.
Hours passed. Xoxo drifted into sleep.
When she woke, only one baby lay beside her.
She screamed.
The nurses searched. The doctor panicked. The hospital was locked down.
But the other twin was gone.
Vanished.
Like smoke.
Outside, a man stepped into a waiting car at the airport.
He held a baby wrapped in white.
A strange half-amulet glowed from the child's tiny fist.
The man kissed her forehead and whispered, "You're mine now."