Chapter Twenty-two

### Third Person P.O.V

Ronke, known as "Ronke Exclusive" on Instagram, is a prominent socialite and social media influencer. She's a record-breaker who transformed from a struggling background to a life of luxury in her community.

People often describe her as incredibly fortunate, having risen from poverty to a position of grace, or as they say, "ascension."

With over 22 million Instagram followers, Ronke's sudden rise to fame is largely attributed to her affluent husband, Kunle Ayomide, the world's most renowned politician across all seven continents.

Despite being in her 50s, Ronke appears much younger, looking as if she's in her 30s, and shows no signs of her humble beginnings.

Her Majesty...

Originating from a small town called Agbado in Ulorka village, near Lagos, she initially came to the city to hustle, selling sachet water on the streets. However, she captured her husband's heart at first sight, changing her fortunes forever.

There are many stories about their love life, particularly how she stood out among the other girls from her small town.

Ronke often says, "My husband, my everything," because he made her who she is today.

Yet, despite all this, Kunle and Ronke never had a daughter. Their three sons—Dayo, the eldest; Damian, the middle child; and Darin, the youngest—were all born via cesarean section.

Ronke would do anything for her three sons, even sacrificing her life for them.

Nowadays, she's moved past her former rotten attitude and no longer detests people without reason.

A makeup enthusiast, she's undergone several plastic surgeries.

Ronke manages one of her husband's company's branches in Ikoyi. Although she may have lacked the qualifications, her husband ensured she received an education and became a graduate, securing her a respectable position.

Despite this, she often comes across as ungrateful and does whatever she pleases, knowing her husband will cover for her misdeeds.

Ronke has been involved in various nefarious activities, capable of extreme actions without remorse.

After spending time instructing employees, she slumped into her ergonomic chair, exhausted, as if she had run a 1000-meter race.

Admiring her newly manicured nails, she reflected on her frequent pampering routines, including pedicures and manicures twice a week, shopping thrice, and changing hairstyles weekly.

Her office is luxuriously furnished and air-conditioned, with a refrigerator, a cushioned seating area, a massive HD screen, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Lagos from the skyscraper's upper floors.

She placed her feet on the desk, still wearing her red suede stilettos, dressed casually in skinny blue jeans, a white vest from Primark, and a blue jean jacket. Her red handbag rested on a nearby chair as she relaxed.

"Adesua!" she called three times, summoning her maid, who was supposed to be at the mansion but accompanied her to the office. Despite Adesua being nearby, Ronke yelled as if in labor, harshly like a market vendor.

Adesua rushed over, almost hitting her head on the wall. "Ma?"

"Were you deaf? Am I stressing myself over your cursed name for nothing? Anyway, are you done cleaning the shelves?" she asked while chewing gum.

"Yes, Ma," Adesua replied, looking down.

"Done and still holding a rag? Liar. Get me a cup of black coffee, and pack it with sugar, fool," Ronke commanded.

Adesua rushed off in fear, knowing Ronke might hit her if she lingered.

"Mental case," Ronke muttered as Adesua left. She picked up her new iPhone 15 Pro Max and checked notifications on Instagram.

In the pantry, Adesua prepared the coffee, deeply resenting the Ayomide family, especially Ronke. For five years, she worked as their maid, feeling neglected and undervalued despite Ronke employing her.

Her only remaining family, her grandmother, was in the hospital, reliant on expensive medication, which kept Adesua in this job.

Suddenly, the kettle whistled, snapping her out of her thoughts. Hastily, she prepared the coffee, fearing Ronke's wrath.

As she hurried back, she collided with something hard—Darin, her secret crush.

"Jesus," Darin exclaimed.

Terrified, Adesua apologized quickly, but Darin grabbed her wrist. She feared what he might do, knowing he disliked her presence.

"Darin, I'm sorry for spilling coffee on you. Please let me go," she pleaded.

Her confidence surprised her, stemming from their secret kiss yesterday.

Darin drew closer, cornering her against the wall. Her heart raced, and she felt suffocated.

He placed his hands on either side of her head, trapping her. "I should apologize for yesterday, but I don't regret it," he said, sending chills down her spine.

Adesua stayed silent, fearing the repercussions of their kiss. She might get fired if discovered.

"Adesua, this shouldn't have happened, but I love you. I don't need to think twice," Darin confessed.

Her knees weakened, and she nearly collapsed, but Darin caught her. "Don't act like this. I'm serious," he said.

"Darin, this is crazy. We're from different worlds," she protested.

"You might lose your job if we're caught?" he chuckled dismissively.

"Adesua, I can't live without you. I love you," he insisted.

"And I love you too, Darin. I've felt this way for years," she admitted, sighing. "But we're from different worlds."

"Stop saying that. You're not a pig," he interrupted.

She smiled weakly, doubting herself. "I wish I could believe that."

Before she could continue, Darin kissed her deeply. Anticipating she might drop the mug, he took it from her and set it aside without breaking the kiss.