MARRIED TO THE DEVIL CEO

The hospital corridor smelled of disinfectant and sweat. Nadia Okon stood against the tiled wall, staring at the red digits of the clock above the nurses’ station, counting down minutes that her brother didn’t have. She had been there since morning. Her blouse clung to her back. Her stomach ached with hunger, but hunger was nothing compared to the pressure in her chest.

Inside Ward 3B, Nathan, her brother, was fighting for his life.

Nurses rushed past her, pushing drip stands and trolleys. Their shoes squeaked on the floor. A cleaner dragged a mop through the corridor, leaving a trail of bleach that stung Nadia’s nose. Nobody slowed down. Nobody asked why she looked like she might collapse.

Then the doctor came out. “Nadia Okon?” he asked.

She stepped forward immediately. “Yes. Doctor… How is my brother?”

The doctor flipped through the papers like he was checking a receipt. “His oxygen level dropped again this morning,” he said. “We stabilized him, but he’s not responding to the treatment.”

Nadia’s throat tightened. “Meaning?”

“It means the infection has spread deeper,” the doctor replied. “If we don’t operate, he may not survive the next forty-eight hours.”

The words hit her like a slap. Forty-eight hours. Her mind tried to reject it, but the fear in the doctor’s eyes confirmed it. “Surgery?” she whispered.

“Emergency surgery,” he said. “Today.”

Nadia swallowed. “How much?”

The doctor didn’t hesitate, “Thirty million naira.”

Her knees weakened. She pressed her palm against the wall to steady herself. “Doctor… please,” she said, voice cracking, “there has to be another way. A cheaper option. A payment plan…”

The doctor shook his head once, sharply. “This is a government hospital. We already delayed too long because you couldn’t pay for the scans. Your brother is slipping. If you want him alive, find the money today.” He walked away without waiting for her response.

Nadia stood there, frozen, until her legs gave up. She dropped into the plastic chair beside the ward door. The chair creaked under her weight. Her hands trembled as she pulled out her phone. Her savings couldn’t cover thirty thousand. So she opened her contacts and started calling.

Blessing. No answer.

Joyce. Voicemail.

An old neighbour answered, heard her voice, and immediately said, “Nadia, I’m not in the mood,” before hanging up. She called again. And again. Some phones rang endlessly while some calls ended instantly. One person answered and said, “Sorry, I can’t help,” like she was rejecting a business offer.

When Nadia checked the time, only fifteen minutes had passed, yet it felt like hours. She tried one more number. Tobi, her former salon supervisor. He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Tobi, please,” Nadia said quickly. “My brother needs emergency surgery. They’re asking for thirty million. Anything you can help with—”

A laugh burst through the line.

“Thirty million?” Tobi scoffed. “Nadia, do I look like Dangote? My rent is due. God will help you. Don’t call me with this kind of thing.”

The call ended.

Nadia stared at the screen, her breathing shallow. Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the phone. She didn’t cry loudly. She couldn’t. It felt like the tears were trapped somewhere inside her chest, pressing against her ribs.

Her eyes drifted to the ward door. She stood up and pushed it open.

The room was dim and smelled of medicine. Nathan lay on the bed beneath white sheets. His skin looked pale, almost grey. A tube ran from his nose, and the machine beside him blinked and beeped like a metronome counting down his life.

His chest rose slowly then stopped. Nadia’s heart seized. Then his chest lifted again, weaker than before, as if breathing was something his body had to beg for.

“Nathan,” she whispered.

Nathan’s eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t open them. His fingers twitched once. That was all. Nadia stepped back, her throat tightening until it hurt. She couldn’t help him. She couldn’t even afford to stand beside him.

Outside the ward, the hospital sounds grew louder. A woman wailed somewhere in the emergency unit. A nurse shouted for a stretcher. Life and death moved around Nadia like traffic.

When she walked out of the hospital building, the Lagos sun hit her face like punishment. The city was loud, busy, and careless. People argued, laughed, and bargained as if the world wasn’t swallowing someone alive inside that hospital.

Nadia stood near the gate, her mind searching for a way out.

Then a name surfaced.

Damian Blackwood.ñ

She had seen him once, months ago, while working as a waitress at a private event. Men in expensive suits spoke about contracts and billions as if money was air. Damian had been seated at the far end of the hall, silent, watching everyone like he already owned them.

Someone had hailed him as the Devil CEO. Nadia remembered his eyes, cold and sharp. The kind of eyes that didn’t promise mercy.

She had promised herself she would never go near men like that. But Nathan was dying. She searched his address with trembling fingers. Within seconds she got it. Blackwood Tower. Victoria Island.

Nadia waved down a taxi and got in.

The ride felt like leaving her world behind. The roads became smoother. The buildings grew taller. The cars looked cleaner, newer, untouchable. Nadia sat stiffly in the back seat, her hands clenched in her lap, repeating Nathan’s name silently as if it was a prayer.

When the taxi stopped, she looked up.

Blackwood Tower rose into the sky like a dark blade. Glass windows reflected the afternoon sun. The entrance was wide and spotless, guarded by men in black uniforms with earpieces tucked into their ears.

Nadia stepped out, suddenly aware of her faded blouse and cheap sandals. She forced herself forward anyway.

A guard stopped her with an outstretched hand and demanded to know where she was going. Nadia said she needed to see Mr. Blackwood, but the guard’s eyes swept over her clothes and he asked if she had an appointment, then shut her down when she admitted she didn’t. She swallowed hard and begged him anyway, explaining that her brother was dying and she only needed five minutes, but his face remained blank as he dismissed her problems like they meant nothing. With a tired sigh, he signaled to another guard to scan her ID, and as the card passed through the scanner twice, the second beep came sharper, forcing both men to lean in as the guard tilted the monitor slightly toward Nadia.

ACCESS GRANTED. PRE-APPROVED VISITOR

Her breath stopped. The first guard straightened immediately. His tone changed. He handed her ID back with both hands.

Nadia froze at the entrance, her fingers tightening around the card as her heartbeat thundered in her ears, she hadn’t called, she hadn’t booked an appointment, she hadn’t told anyone she was coming, yet the system already knew her name. As she stepped into Blackwood Tower, fear settled deep in her stomach like a stone because saving Nathan suddenly didn’t feel like the most dangerous thing she was about to do.