The Invitation Nobody Questioned

By Wednesday morning, the entire design studio was running on little sleep and too much coffee.

The African Fashion Week competition had changed the atmosphere.

People who usually shared ideas now guarded their sketchbooks.

Designers who once laughed together suddenly became secretive.

Even the tailors noticed.

“Oga,” one of them joked, “if this competition continues, people will start hiding needles too.”

The room erupted in laughter.

For a moment, the pressure lifted.

Zai had barely settled into her seat when her phone buzzed.

It was a message from Tobi.

How’s the competition?

She smiled and replied.

I’ve not even finished my first sketch. Pray for me.

His response came almost immediately.

You always overthink. Draw first. Panic later. 😂

She laughed quietly.

Funke looked over.

“Boyfriend?”

“My younger brother.”

“He sounds wise.”

“He thinks he’s older than me.”

“I’ve met many younger brothers.”

Funke grinned.

“They all think that.”

Around eleven, Raymond walked into the studio carrying a garment bag.

Nobody expected the CEO to deliver samples himself.

“I need two volunteers.”

Hands shot up immediately.

He smiled.

“I already know who I need.”

He looked at Funke.

“And…”

His eyes moved to Zai.

“…you.”

Several people exchanged quick glances.

Raymond either didn’t notice or pretended not to.

“I have a client fitting at Eko Atlantic this afternoon. The lead designer is unavailable because she’s in Abuja.”

He lifted the garment bag.

“I need experienced eyes.”

Funke nodded.

“What time?”

“One o’clock.”

“Fine.”

Then he looked at Zai.

“Can you make it?”

She hesitated.

She still had work to finish.

Before she could answer, Funke spoke.

“I’ll cover her tasks.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

Funke smiled.

“But I’m doing it anyway.”

The drive to Eko Atlantic took longer than expected.

Lagos traffic had decided to remind everyone who was really in charge.

Raymond sat in the front passenger seat, answering emails.

Funke and Zai sat behind him discussing fabrics.

Not once during the journey did Raymond turn it into a personal conversation.

It remained professional.

Which somehow reassured Zai.

Maybe she had imagined the growing closeness.

Maybe everyone else was imagining it too.

The client lived in one of the newly built waterfront apartments overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

The penthouse was breathtaking.

Glass walls.

Original artwork.

Furniture that looked too expensive to touch.

The client, Mrs. Ibidun Balogun, welcomed them warmly.

“Raymond!”

She hugged him.

“You always arrive looking like you own Lagos.”

“I only own traffic.”

She laughed loudly.

Then noticed the two women.

“You brought reinforcements.”

“My best.”

Raymond replied without hesitation.

“This is Funke.”

They exchanged greetings.

“And this is Zainab.”

Mrs. Balogun smiled.

“So you’re the young designer everybody keeps talking about.”

Zai blinked.

“Everybody?”

“I’ve heard your name twice this week.”

She laughed nervously.

“I hope for good reasons.”

“I haven’t heard any bad ones.”

The fitting began.

For the next two hours, everyone focused on work.

The gown needed adjustments.

The sleeves had to be reshaped.

The waistline required minor alterations.

Zai suggested a different drape for the back panel.

Mrs. Balogun stood in front of the mirror.

She turned slowly.

Then smiled.

“Oh.”

She looked at Raymond.

“She’s good.”

Raymond didn’t hide his pride.

“I told you.”

As they packed up, Mrs. Balogun insisted they stay for lunch.

Nobody refused.

The dining table overlooked the ocean.

Conversation flowed easily.

Business.

Fashion.

Travel.

The future of African luxury brands.

At one point, Mrs. Balogun looked directly at Zai.

“Can I give you unsolicited advice?”

Zai smiled.

“I’ll take it.”

“When successful people suddenly become interested in you…”

She paused long enough for everyone at the table to look at her.

“…always ask yourself what exactly they’re seeing.”

The room became unexpectedly quiet.

Mrs. Balogun quickly laughed.

“Oh dear.”

She waved her hand.

“Ignore me.”

“I’ve reached the age where advice just jumps out.”

Everyone laughed politely.

Everyone except Raymond.

For the first time that afternoon, he looked uncomfortable.

They arrived back at LuxeThread just before five.

As they stepped out of the car, Funke slowed her pace until she was walking beside Zai.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know why Raymond keeps choosing you?”

Zai frowned.

“He says I think differently.”

Funke nodded.

“I believe him.”

She stopped walking.

“But people are already talking.”

“What are they saying?”

“Nothing directly.”

Funke chose her words carefully.

“Just…”

She sighed.

“…people notice patterns.”

Zai looked down.

“I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I know.”

Funke touched her arm gently.

“I’m not accusing you.”

“I’m warning you.”

That evening, Raymond remained in his office long after everyone had left.

His phone vibrated.

Adanna.

He answered.

“Hello.”

“I just wanted to remind you.”

“About what?”

“We’re having dinner with my father tomorrow.”

“I remember.”

“Good.”

She sounded calm, as always.

“He asked if you’ll be there.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I told him you would.”

A brief silence followed.

Then Adanna asked casually,

“How was the Balogun fitting?”

“It went well.”

“I heard Zainab impressed the client.”

Raymond looked toward the window.

“She did.”

“I’m happy.”

Her voice remained perfectly steady.

“We need more people like her.”

“We do.”

She smiled faintly, though he couldn’t see it.

“I hope we don’t lose her.”

After the call ended, Raymond remained seated for a long time.

He couldn’t explain why that last sentence stayed with him.

“I hope we don’t lose her.”

It sounded like a compliment.

But somewhere beneath the words…

…it felt like a warning.

Across town, Adanna entered her home office.

She unlocked a cabinet.

Inside were several company files.

She took out one marked:

Executive Staff Development

She slipped Zai’s résumé into it.

Then she reached for another document.

A proposal she had been drafting for months.

LuxeThread Young Designers Mentorship Programme

She smiled to herself.

If things unfolded the way she expected…

Everyone would believe the programme had been created to support young talent.

Only Adanna knew…

…it had just become the perfect stage to see who people truly were when opportunity and temptation stood side by side.

Engagement Question

Do you think Adanna is building a genuine mentorship programme, or is she quietly creating a situation that will reveal everyone’s true character?

To be continued…