The sound cracked through the busy parking lot like thunder. Olivia Anderson’s face snapped to the side. A strange rough hand had just slapped Nigeria’s most famous single mom and billionaire CEO in front of cameras, guards, and a sea of shiny cars at the Lagos International Conference Center.
For one silent heartbeat, time froze, then crack. A bullet tore through the glossy black SUV door where she had been standing a second ago. Glass exploded into bright flying stars. People screamed. Security men ducked. Someone yelled, “Down! Down!” Another shot sang past her ear and bit into the wall behind.

The same man who slapped her, a man with a tattered brown coat, messy hair, and an overgrown beard yanked her wrist and dragged her behind a concrete pillar. Olivia stumbled in her heels, heart pounding so hard it felt like her chest would burst. “Stay low,” the man whispered. His breath carried a hint of dust and rain. Two things hit Olivia at once.
The sting in her cheek, and the truth that this stranger had just saved her life. A third shot rang out. Far away now. Shouts scattered across the lot. Doors slammed, engines roared. Somewhere, a woman cried. Olivia turned, eyes wide, and finally saw the man’s face, tired, lined, but strangely calm. He wore a dirty old bag across his shoulder, the strap frayed, the fabric thin as paper.
“Who are you?” she breathed. “You’ll understand,” he said. “Please get back in your car now.” He didn’t shout. He didn’t beg. He just looked at her with steady eyes that seemed to carry too many secrets. He guided her, still low, toward the driver’s side. One of her guards leaped up to cover them. Another guard scanned the rooftops, finger pressed to his earpiece, lips moving fast.
The stranger slid into the passenger seat before anyone could argue. Olivia’s fingers trembled as she grabbed the steering wheel. Her driver was nowhere. Her lead guard banged the hood twice. Go. Olivia hit the push start. The engine woke smooth and deep. She shot a quick glance at the man. Seat belt. He clipped it, still calm.
Olivia’s heart thumped in her ears as the SUV glided out of the parking space and into the service lane. A fourth shot cracked behind them farther this time, and then the wild chorus of sirens began to rise. “Love,” the man said quietly. “Avoid the main gate,” Olivia turned left. They slipped into a narrow exit road lined with palm trees and low hedges.
A security truck blocked part of the lane. She swerved around it and felt the tires grip. The city’s noise rolled in honking horns, the rush of traffic, the giant billboard smiling down with her own face on it. Olivia Anderson, keynote speaker. She swallowed. That smiling woman on the billboard looked fearless. The woman in this driver’s seat did not feel fearless at all. They merged into traffic.
The conference center fell behind them. Only then did Olivia find her voice. “Start talking,” she said, trying to sound strong even as her hands shook. Who are you? What just happened back there? The man lifted his eyes to the rear view mirror, checked behind them, then slowly faced her. My name is Simon, he said.
I’m sorry about the slap. Olivia let out a short, shaky laugh. You slapped me a stranger in public. I did, he said, because the bullet was already coming. The words hit her harder than the slap. She felt the sting in her cheek again, but now it felt like a mark of mercy. How did you know? Simon looked out the window at the passing buses. The street hawkers carrying chilled water in bowls.
The yellow danfos squeezing through impossible spaces. His jaw worked like he was chewing on a memory that hurt to swallow. I heard them last night. He said two men under the flyover near Eco Hotel. They spoke about a clean opening, about the parking lot, about timing. One of them said the target would stand by the back door of a black SUV before walking to the side entrance.
That’s what you did. Olivia’s skin prickled. You expect me to believe you just happened to overhear a plan to kill me? I didn’t just overhear, Simon said. I listened. They kept saying, “If she steps out and looks right, take the first shot. If she hesitates, take the second.” I didn’t sleep. I stayed where I could see the center. I prayed you would hear me if I called. When I saw you step out, I shouted, “Go back.
” You didn’t hear. The gun lifted on the roof across the street. I had no time to think. So, I slapped you to make your head turn and your body move. That’s all I had. Silence filled the SUV for a moment, heavy and real. Olivia blinked away hot tears. She had built companies, given jobs, raised her little boy alone, and faced boardrooms full of men who didn’t think she belonged.
But she had never been this close to losing everything all at once. “Thank you,” she said, voice small and raw. “Simon, thank you,” he nodded once, as if thanks felt too big for that cramped space. They reached an intersection. A traffic light flashed red. Olivia pressed the brake. Cars bunched around them. A hawker lifted cold water bottles to the window.
Olivia waved him off with a soft shake of her head. Why were they after me? She asked. Simon kept watching the mirrors. I don’t know names, but one of them said arrival once the stage and the stock drop before quarter end. He said no CEO, no speech. Panic board will beg for a new plan. He paused.
They also said she walks like she owns the ground. Olivia almost smiled. That sounds like me. It is you, Simon said. Green light. She pulled forward. You need to call the police, Simon added. Tell them exactly where the shots came from. I will, she said. Well go straight there. But she did not turn toward the closest station yet.
She needed a second to breathe, to feel the beating in her chest, slow enough to think. She needed to know more about the stranger who had just pushed her out of death’s way. Simon, she said, tell me about you. He didn’t answer at first. He kept his eyes moving. Left mirror, road, right mirror. Like a man who had learned to live by looking around corners.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet and steady. I wasn’t always like this, he said, touching the dirty sleeve of his coat. I was a bank manager in Victoria Island. Numbers were my friends. I did well, maybe too well. Some men didn’t like it. They said I made them look slow. Olivia listened, hands steadying on the wheel.
One day, an account moved money it shouldn’t,” Simon continued. “Someone used my login. By the time I knew, the funds were gone. They said I planned it. My own friend signed the paper. I was fired. Then I was arrested. I kept saying, “Check the cameras. Check the access times.” No one listened. I spent months in prison.
When the case died because the real thief covered his tracks, they let me go. But I had nothing left. No job, no home. No one wanted a man with that stain. So I carried this bag and tried to disappear. His fingers touched the frayed strap again. A small sad smile tugged at his mouth. But I couldn’t disappear today.
Olivia’s throat tightened. The city rolled by billboards, street sellers, the bright stripes of Keka Nap zipping between cars. She thought of her son David waiting for her at home with his nanny and his favorite football. She thought of the speech she was supposed to give about courage and building trust in hard times.
Maybe today was the real speech. Simon, she said, you are not invisible. Not to me. He nodded, but his eyes flicked to the mirror again, sharp and alert. They might follow, he said. Who? The same men or new ones. Olivia checked her own mirror then, and her stomach dropped. Two bikes had entered the lane behind them.
Both riders wore black helmets with dark visors. They didn’t weave like normal bike riders. They held a straight line. They kept the same distance. “Do you see them?” she whispered. “I do,” Simon said. “What do we do?” “Breathe,” he said softly. “Keep driving. Don’t rush. Don’t look scared. We’ll turn off before they can box us in.” Olivia tried to breathe.
“In, out, in, out.” She thought of the slap, the glass bursting, the pillar that had kept her alive. She thought of how close she had come to never seeing her son again. Her phone buzzed, her head of security. Are you safe? Another message. Do not return. Stay in motion. Police and route. She typed with one hand. Eyes on the road. I am safe with a witness.
Possible tail. Next exit, Simon said. Then right. There’s a service road with cameras at the station. They took the exit. The bikes glided closer. The service road ran narrow and quiet, lined with small shops, and a white wall crowned with broken glass. A metal gate up ahead stood half open.
Olivia eased toward it. One bike suddenly sped up. “Don’t stop,” Simon said calmly. “Roll through slow, but don’t stop,” Olivia’s mouth felt dry. She rolled through the gate. A security man in a faded blue shirt raised his hand to wave and then noticed the bikes. His eyes widened. The first bike slipped through behind them, smooth as a shadow.
Down, Simon said, voice still level but urgent now. Olivia, get ready to duck. Her heart hammered, her cheek still stung. The world narrowed to the lane ahead, the bike in the mirror, the sound of her own breath, and then a new sound cut the air. the sharp whale of a siren turning into the service road from the far end. The bike’s visor tilted.
The siren grew louder, closer, a blue light flashing fast. “Simon,” Olivia whispered, not sure if she was praying or asking a question. He didn’t answer. He was looking past her, eyes fixed on something she couldn’t see, yet something just beyond the bend, when a black van nosed forward from a side gate, blocking half the lane in front of them. The bike behind them revved. Olivia’s foot hovered over the brake.
“Now,” Simon said, voice low and fierce. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.” The black van blocked half the lane ahead. The bikes closed in behind. Olivia’s hands froze on the steering wheel for a split second, then tightened until her knuckles turned pale. Her foot hovered over the brake, but Simon’s voice cut through the storm inside her head. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.
” Her chest squeezed. “Simon, go, Olivia.” His tone was firm now, no room for fear. She pressed the accelerator. The SUV roared, heavy and powerful, eating the short stretch of lane. The van jerked forward, trying to seal the road completely. Olivia aimed for the slim gap between its bumper and the wall.
Metal screamed as the SUV’s side scraped the wall. Sparks flying, but they shot through. Behind them, the first bike clipped the gate post and spun sideways, throwing the rider into the dust. The second swerved wildly, then steadied, its engine growling like a predator. Good, Simon muttered. Steady but alert. Keep moving.
The siren behind them grew closer. A police car barreled down the service road, lights flashing. The bike rider glanced back, then swerved after Olivia’s SUV like a shadow refusing to be shaken. Olivia’s breath came hard and shallow. She had faced hostile takeovers, court cases, and even the cold loneliness of raising her son alone. But this, this raw fight for life was different.
The sting on her cheek burned again, a reminder of how close she had come to death only minutes ago. They won’t stop, she whispered. They’ll keep coming. Not if we lead them into the open, Simon said. The police will catch them. Just trust me. Something in his voice, calm but edged with steel, made her nod without thinking.
She veered left at the next junction, tires squealing, and entered a broad road where Kek riders scattered, shouting curses. The bike rider pushed harder, drawing close to the driver’s side. Olivia saw him out of the corner of her eye, black helmet, black jacket. One hand steady on the handlebar, the other reaching inside his coat. Gun. Simon barked.
Olivia’s heart jumped into her throat. Before she could react, Simon rolled down his window. Without hesitation, he hurled his battered bag straight at the biker. It smashed into the rider’s chest, knocking him off balance. The gun clattered onto the tarmac as the bike wobbled and skidded, sparks flying. The rider tumbled onto the roadside. Gasps erupted from pedestrians. A child screamed. The police siren screamed closer.
Olivia’s SUV kept rolling, her breaths ragged. “You threw your bag,” she gasped. “Your only. I’ll get another bag, Simon said. I can’t get another chance at life. His words silenced her. They carried a weight deeper than the chaos behind them. Finally, as they sped into a safer district, the police car overtook and screeched to a halt at the fallen rider.
Olivia slowed, shaking, but kept going until the road widened and traffic forced her to merge. She parked by a fuel station, chest heaving. For the first time since the slap, there was quiet. Just the hum of engines, the faint honk of distant horns, the hot Lagos sun pouring down. Olivia leaned her forehead against the wheel, trembling.
“I should be dead,” she whispered. “I should be dead right now,” Simon sat back, his empty hands resting on his lap. “But you’re not,” he said softly. “And that means something.” Her eyes welled. She turned to him, seeing not just the mudstained coat, the disheveled beard, the hollow eyes, but the man who had risked his life for hers without hesitation.
“Why?” she asked, voicebreaking. “Why would you risk everything for me?” “A stranger,” Simon looked out the window as if the answer was written in the passing faces of hawkers and fuel attendants. His jaw tightened. “Because I know what it feels like when no one stands for you. I couldn’t let it happen again. Not to you.” Before Olivia could reply, her phone buzzed. Her head of security again. We have captured one suspect.
Others escaped. Conference canled. Where are you? She wiped her eyes quickly and typed back. Safe with witness. Going to police. She slid the phone down, then looked at Simon again. You’re not a stranger anymore. For a moment, their eyes held. Then Simon shifted, clearing his throat. You need to report this before they twisted. You’re powerful, but your enemies are powerful, too.
She nodded. Yes, we’re going to the police station. Her SUV rolled back into traffic. But deep inside, a question burned hotter than the Lagos sun. Who really wanted her dead badly enough to risk daylight bullets at an international conference? Her rival’s name echoed in her mind.
Williams, the man who had tried before to snatch deals from her hand. But was it him or someone closer? She didn’t know yet. What she did know was that the homeless man beside her wasn’t just a savior. He was a mystery. And mysteries always came with truths that could shatter everything. And Olivia wasn’t ready for the truth. Waiting around the corner. The police station at a buzzed like a restless hive. Officers moved briskly.
Reports piled high. Phones ringing without pause. Olivia Anderson, billionaire CEO, stood in the middle of it all with dust on her gown, broken glass glittering in her hair, and her cheeks still red from Simon’s slap. Whispers followed her half in awe, half in confusion.
It wasn’t every day that one of Nigeria’s wealthiest women walked into the station, escorted by a homeless man in a torn brown coat. “Madame Anderson, please, this way,” the DPO said, almost stumbling over himself with respect. He guided her into a private office. Simon closed behind. The moment the door shut, Olivia’s composure cracked. She dropped into a chair, rubbing her temples. This is madness. My son could have lost his mother today.
Simon stood in the corner, quiet, his eyes scanning the room like a man who trusted no walls. His tattered bag was gone. And without it, he looked strangely bare, like a soldier stripped of his only shield. The DPO cleared his throat. Madam, we caught one of the attackers. He refuses to speak, but our men found foreign bullets. This was no street crime. It was an assassination attempt. Olivia’s eyes darkened. I know.
The question is, who sent them? The DPO hesitated, glancing at Simon. Olivia noticed and lifted a hand. He stays. If not for him, I would already be dead. Well, for in the fines, in the promotentiously, Simon’s gaze softened for the briefest moment, then returned to the sharp alertness of a man who had learned to expect betrayal. The DPO nodded reluctantly.
Very well, Madame Anderson. Do you suspect anyone? Olivia exhaled. A name danced on her tongue. Williams, her ruthless business rival, who had tried everything. Legal battles, smear campaigns, bribery, but daylight bullets. Was he truly that desperate? Her fingers tightened on the chair’s armrest. I have enemies, too many.
Simon finally spoke, his voice low but steady. I overheard them yesterday. They mentioned your name, the conference, and something about a sniper on standby. That’s why I ran to you today. I couldn’t let them succeed. Olivia turned sharply.
You knew you could have gone to the police? His laugh was bitter, almost hollow. The police? Do you think they would listen to a man who sleeps under bridges? I was a ghost to them. But you, his eyes locked onto hers. You were worth saving. Her breath caught. For a second, she didn’t see a homeless man. She saw a protector, a man stripped by life, but unbroken. The DPO leaned forward.
Mister Simon, he said simply, “Mr. Simon, for you to know such details, you must have been close to these men. Who exactly are you? Silence stretched. Olivia studied Simon’s face, reading something hidden there. Pain, regret, and a secret buried deep. At last, Simon spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. I was once like you, madam, a man with everything.
A wife, a daughter, a career at a bank, until one lie destroyed it all. They framed me, pushed me out, and by the time I cleared my name, my family was gone. My wife remarried. My daughter doesn’t even know my face. The room fell still. Olivia’s throat tightened. She understood loss, the kind that eats your soul slowly. Simon’s jaw clenched.
Since then, I’ve lived on the streets, watching, listening, invisible. That’s how I heard about today’s plan. Tears stung Olivia’s eyes. This man, cast aside by society, had risked everything for her. “Simon,” she whispered. Before he could answer, the door burst open. A junior officer rushed in, panting. Sir, the suspect we caught, he swallowed poison before he could talk. He’s dead.
The DPO slammed his desk. Damn it. They silenced him. Olivia’s pulse raced. Whoever wanted her gone wasn’t just powerful. They were merciless. Simon stepped closer to her. Madam, this is bigger than rivalry. Someone high up once you erased. She lifted her chin, fire burning behind her tears. then let them come. They don’t know who they’re dealing with, but even as she said it, her heart pounded with dread.
Because if they could reach her at the conference in daylight, surrounded by guards, then nowhere was safe, and the only person she could truly trust was the homeless man who had slapped her. That night, Olivia Anderson’s mansion in Banana Island felt less like a home and more like a fortress under siege.
Security men paced the gates, rifles slung across their shoulders. Armed guards stood at every corner, their walkie-talkies crackling in the humid Lagos air. Inside, Olivia sat in her expansive living room, the chandelier’s glow reflecting off her gold bangles. But her hands trembled as she lifted a glass of water.
Across from her, Simon sat awkwardly on the edge of a white leather sofa. His mudstained coat and scruffy beard looked painfully out of place among the polished marble floors and imported Italian decor. Her 10-year-old son, David, peaked from the staircase. Mommy, who is he? His wide brown eyes darted between Simon and his mother. Olivia forced a smile. David, this man saved my life today.
You must thank him. David walked down slowly, his small feet padding against the rug. Thank you, sir, he said shily. Simon’s face softened and for the first time a ghost of a smile touched his lips. “You’re welcome, my boy.” But the fragile calm shattered when Olivia’s phone buzzed. An unknown number. She hesitated, then answered.
A distorted voice filled the line. “You were lucky today, Olivia. Next time your money won’t save you. Walk away from the Seagate deal or your son will pay the price.” Her blood ran cold. Who are you? She snapped, but the line went dead. Her hand shook as she lowered the phone. Simon’s sharp eyes studied her.
What did they say? Olivia’s lips trembled. It’s not just me anymore. They threatened my son. Simon rose to his feet. His entire frame, though weary and scarred by hardship, radiated sudden authority. Then you can’t trust anyone, not even your guards. Whoever wants you dead has men on the inside. Her heart thudded painfully.
She wanted to deny it, but she remembered how easily the van and bikers had tracked her earlier. Could someone in her circle be leaking her every move? Simon paced the room like a caged lion. You said Seagate deal. That’s it, isn’t it? A contract so big someone is ready to kill for it. Olivia swallowed hard.
It’s a multi-billion dollar oil pipeline. If I sign, my company controls distribution across West Africa. That’s enough to make enemies. dangerous enemies. Simon stopped, his dark eyes locking onto hers. Then the question isn’t if they’ll try again. It’s when. At that moment, a loud crash thundered from the back gate. David yelped and clutched his mother’s hand. Guards shouted outside.
Gunfire erupted short, sharp bursts that sent every nerve in Olivia’s body into overdrive. “Stay here!” one guard shouted, rushing past the living room. But Simon grabbed Olivia’s arm. No, they want you. Staying here is a trap. Another round of shots split the night. The heavy iron gate groaned under impact. David sobbed into his mother’s gown. Simon’s voice cut through the chaos.
Olivia, if you trust me just once more, take your son and follow me. Now her eyes darted to the staircase, to her son’s terrified face, to the door where shadows moved. She had two choices. stay with her well-paid guards who might already be compromised, or run into the night with a homeless man who had already risked everything for her. Her chest heaved. She made her choice. “David, hold my hand.
We’re leaving with Simon.” Simon pulled open the servant’s exit, the smell of smoke and gunpowder drifting in. Quickly, he urged. They slipped into the darkness just as the gate collapsed with a thunderous crash. Armed men stormed in, black masks glinting under the security lights. The night had only just begun, and Olivia Anderson’s life would never be the same.
The humid Lagos night wrapped around Olivia Anderson as she fled through the narrow alley behind her mansion. Her expensive anchor gown clung to her skin, torn from scraping against walls. She held tightly to her son David’s hand, every breath ragged. Behind her, gunfire rattled like angry drums, and the screams of guards echoed through the night. Simon led the way.
His once slouched figure seemed transformed. Shoulders squared, steps swift, eyes scanning every shadow. He moved with the precision of a man who had lived too long in danger. Olivia’s trust in him deepened with every frantic heartbeat. They emerged near a quiet street lined with abandoned shops.
Simon pulled them into the cover of a broken kiosk. We can’t stay in Banana Island. They know every inch of this place. We head to the mainland. I know where we can hide. Olivia’s chest rose and fell as she struggled to catch her breath. She looked at him, her hair loose, her cheek still red from the slap that had saved her life.
Simon, why are you still here? You could have left me to die like the rest of them tried to. Simon’s jaw clenched. Because I know what it feels like to lose everything. If I can stop it from happening to someone else, even a billionaire like you. Then my life finally means something. David clung to Olivia’s arm, his voice small.
Mommy, I’m scared. She kissed his forehead. I know, baby. But we’ll be safe. I promise. Even as she said it, she wasn’t sure. Hours later, Simon guided them into a dim safe house in Suriler, a one room flat belonging to an old street friend. The flickering bulb cast uneven shadows across peeling walls.
Olivia sat with David in her lap, exhausted but alert. Simon paced. They won’t stop until they kill you or force you out of the Seagate deal. We need proof something that ties this back to whoever is pulling the strings. Her phone buzzed again. This time it was her head of security, Mr. Aday. She hesitated but answered.
Madam, are you safe? His deep voice rumbled. Yes, she whispered. Good. Stay hidden. We’ll find who is behind this. But as he spoke, Simon froze, his sharp ears catching something off in the man’s tone. He snatched the phone and spoke into it. If you care so much, AD, why did the attackers know exactly when Madame Anderson would arrive at the conference? Why did they storm her home so easily? Silence, then click. The call ended. Olivia’s eyes widened.
You think, Ada? I don’t think. Simon cut in voice hard. I know he sold you out. Probably paid off by your rival. Olivia’s stomach turned. Aday the man she trusted to guard her son had betrayed her. The next morning, news channels exploded with reports. Gunman attack billionaire Olivia Anderson’s mansion. Rumors swirled. Some said she staged it for attention.
Others whispered of debts and enemies. Olivia clenched her fists as she watched the headlines. They’re already twisting the story. If I don’t fight back, they’ll bury me alive. Simon’s eyes burned with quiet fire. Then let’s fight. But we fight smart. We give them a trap they can’t escape. Together, they hatched a plan.
Olivia would announce a secret meeting with government officials to finalize the Seagate deal. Word would spread quickly. Aid would leak it to his employers. The killers would come, and this time, police hidden in plain clothes would be waiting. It was dangerous, reckless even, but Olivia had no choice. Two nights later, the trap was set at an abandoned warehouse near Apapar Port. Olivia sat inside a bulletproof car, heart racing. David was safe at a relative’s house under heavy guard.
Simon stood by her side, calm despite the storm that loomed. The first black SUV arrived, headlights slicing through the darkness. Then another armed men poured out, masks covering their faces. At their center was none other than Aday, her head of security, his gun gleaming in the dim light. Olivia’s chest tightened. Betrayal had a face now. Bring her out, Aid barked.
Simon stepped forward, his ragged coat flapping in the wind. If you want her, you’ll go through me. Aid sneered. You a filthy beggar. He raised his gun. You should have stayed under the bridge. Before he could fire, flood lights blazed on. Dozens of police officers surged from the shadows. Rifles raised. Drop your weapons. The DPO thundered. Chaos erupted. Gunfire cracked.
Men scattered. Some dropping their weapons, others firing wildly. Olivia ducked behind the armored door, trembling. Simon lunged at Arday, tackling him to the ground. The gun clattered away. The two men wrestled fiercely, fists and elbows flying.
Arday was strong, but Simon fought like a man who had nothing to lose. You betrayed her. Simon roared, pinning him down. Aid spat blood. She was just another rich fool. Men like me don’t get loyalty. We take what we can. Simon’s fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him out cold. Within minutes, the police had the remaining gunman in cuffs.
The echo of gunfire faded, replaced by the hum of victory. Olivia stepped out of the car, her heels crunching against broken glass. Her eyes met Simon’s. You saved me again. Simon wiped blood from his lip, breathing hard. You don’t owe me thanks. Just don’t forget me. Days later, the Seagate deal went through. Olivia standing tall at the signing ceremony.
Cameras flashed, reporters shouted questions, and the world saw a woman unshaken by danger. But behind the glamour, her thoughts kept returning to Simon. The homeless man who had slapped her, saved her, and exposed betrayal that ran deeper than she could imagine. That evening, she found him back at his usual spot under the bridge.
He sat cross-legged, staring at the traffic, looking smaller than she remembered. “Simon,” she said softly. He looked up startled. Madam Anderson,” she stepped closer. “Don’t call me Madam. Call me Olivia.” His eyes flickered with confusion. “You risked your life for me and my son,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t let you stay here, forgotten by the world.
You deserve more,” she reached into her handbag and pulled out a set of keys. “This is yours. a house, a second chance, and if you want a job in my company, security chief, no one else has earned my trust like you.” Simon’s mouth fell open. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. His eyes glistened. “Why me? You could hire anyone?” She smiled faintly. “Because when the world turned its back on me, you slapped me back to life.
” Simon laughed through his tears, shaking his head. “I slapped a billionaire and she offered me a home. Who would believe that story? I would, Olivia said. And now, so will everyone else. Weeks later, newspapers carried a new headline. Homeless man becomes hero.
After saving billionaire CEO, Olivia and Simon stood side by side at a charity event, launching a foundation for the homeless. David clung to Simon’s hand. No longer seeing him as a stranger, but as family. In the crowd, whispers spread not of scandal, but of admiration. The billionaire single mom and the homeless man. An unlikely pair bound by fate, courage, and one unforgettable slap. For Olivia, life would never be the same.
For Simon, it had finally begun again. And for Laros, it became a story no one would ever forget. If you like this story, comment, share, and subscribe to our channel for more interesting stories.