By the time Dami got back to the compound, the photographer had transformed the garden into a set.

Lights on stands, reflectors positioned precisely, a backdrop of tropical flowers arranged just so. The photographer—a woman named Kemi with an impressive camera and an even more impressive assistant—was directing Tyrel like he was a professional model.

"Yes, yes, just like that. Chin down slightly. Good."

Tyrel stood under the lights in a crisp white shirt, looking effortlessly handsome and thoroughly uncomfortable. When he saw Dami, relief flashed across his face.

"There she is!" Kemi exclaimed. "Perfect timing. Dami, your mother showed me your dress for tomorrow—stunning—but for these shots, let's go elegant casual. You have the outfit I sent over?"

Dami nodded numbly. Her mother had laid out clothes in her room—a flowing coral dress that matched the sunset aesthetic Kemi was clearly going for.

"Go change! We're losing light!"

Dami retreated to the house, her mind still on Bolaji's words. Connections to organized crime. She'd known Tyrel was dangerous, but having it confirmed, having someone else know...

"Dami!" Her mother appeared in the hallway. "There you are! Where have you been?"

"Just... running errands."

Asake's eyes narrowed. "What errands? The wedding is in two days. You shouldn't be running anywhere except to photo shoots and fittings."

"I know, Mama. I'm sorry."

Her mother studied her face. "You look stressed. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You keep saying that." Asake stepped closer. "But you don't look fine. You look like someone running from something."

The observation was too close to truth. "I'm just tired. This is all... a lot."

"I know." Her mother's voice softened unexpectedly. "But after tomorrow's photos go online, and then the wedding... everything will be perfect. You'll see."

She swept away, leaving Dami alone with her thoughts and a coral dress that cost more than most people's monthly rent.

***

The garden was golden hour perfect when Dami emerged.

The sun hung low, painting everything warm amber and honey. Kemi took one look at her and clapped. "Beautiful! Okay, lovebirds, let's make magic."

Tyrel was waiting by the fountain, and when he saw her, something flickered in his expression—appreciation, maybe, or calculation. With him, it was always hard to tell.

"You look good," he said quietly as she approached.

"So do you."

"Everything okay? You seemed off in your texts."

"Later," she murmured. "We need to talk."

"I gathered that." His hand found the small of her back as Kemi positioned them. The touch was familiar now, practiced. Part of their show.

"Perfect!" Kemi called out. "Now, Tyrel, pull her closer. Dami, look at him like he's the only man in the world."

Dami looked up at Tyrel. His face was partially shadowed in the golden light, his expression unreadable. But his hand on her back was warm, solid, real.

"More intimate!" Kemi directed. "You're in love! Show me!"

Tyrel's other hand came up to Dami's face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. The gesture was tender, practiced, perfect for the camera.

But his eyes asked: Wha happened?

“Bolaji knows,” she answered quietly.

They communicated in silence while Kemi's camera clicked away, capturing what would look like a perfect moment between two people in love.

"Gorgeous!" Kemi moved around them, angles shifting. "Now, Tyrel, whisper something to her. Dami, laugh like it's the funniest thing you've ever heard."

Tyrel leaned close, his lips near her ear. To the camera, it would look romantic. But his words were all business: "What does he know?"

"About your company. The investors." Dami forced a laugh, bright and false. "He did research."

"Shit." But Tyrel's smile never faltered. To Kemi's lens, he looked like a man completely in love. "How much?"

"Enough to be a problem."

"Beautiful!" Kemi called. "That's perfect chemistry! Now, let's try by the roses."

They moved through the garden like dancers, hitting marks, holding poses, creating the illusion of romance while discussing disaster in hushed tones.

By the roses: "Is he going to tell your father?"

"Not yet. But he's watching."

By the fountain: "Can you handle him?"

"I don't know."

Under the pergola: "We might need a contingency plan."

"Like what?"

"I'm working on it."

The sun sank lower. Kemi directed them into increasingly intimate poses—Tyrel's arms around Dami's waist, her hands on his chest, foreheads touching, almost-kisses that looked real through the camera lens but stopped just short of actual contact.

"One more!" Kemi called. "The money shot. Tyrel, dip her. Dami, trust him. Let yourself fall."

Tyrel's arm tightened around her waist. "Ready?"

Dami nodded.

He dipped her backward, smooth and controlled, one hand supporting her back, the other cradling her head. Dami's arms went around his neck instinctively. For a moment, they were suspended—her weight held completely by him, trusting he wouldn't let her fall.

Their faces were inches apart. She could see the gold flecks in his eyes, the precise line of his jaw, the way he was looking at her with something that almost resembled genuine concern.

"Perfect!" Kemi's camera clicked frantically. "Hold it... hold it..."

"Are you scared?" Tyrel asked quietly, just for her.

"Terrified."

"Good. Fear keeps you sharp." His grip tightened slightly. "We're going to pull this off, Dami. But you need to trust me."

"I don't trust you."

"Smart girl." His mouth curved. "But you need me. And right now, that's enough."

"Okay, bring her up!" Kemi called.

Tyrel pulled Dami upright smoothly, but his hands lingered on her waist a moment longer than necessary. For the camera, she told herself. Everything was for the camera.

"That's a wrap!" Kemi lowered her camera, grinning. "These are going to be stunning. Mrs. Agbaje, you're going to love them."

Dami's mother materialized from somewhere in the garden, where she'd apparently been watching the entire shoot. "Let me see!"

Kemi showed her the display screen, scrolling through shot after shot of Dami and Tyrel looking like the perfect couple—laughing, touching, gazing at each other with what looked like genuine affection.

"Oh, these are beautiful!" Asake pressed her hand to her chest. "My daughter, so happy. So in love."

Dami looked at the photos and barely recognized herself. That woman in the pictures looked radiant, joyful, completely at ease in her fiancé’s arms.

That woman was a fiction.

"I'll have the edited files by tonight," Kemi said, packing up her equipment. "You can post them tomorrow morning."

"Perfect!" Asake was already on her phone, probably scheduling the post. "This will be the wedding everyone talks about."

As the photographer and her assistant left, and her mother drifted back toward the house making phone calls, Dami and Tyrel stood alone in the garden.

The golden hour was fading. The lights were being packed away. The performance was over.

 Tyrel glanced toward the house. "Tonight. After your bachelorette dinner. Meet me in the guest house."

"That's risky—"

"Everything about this is risky." His eyes found hers. "But if Bolaji's actively investigating, we need to coordinate our story. Make sure there are no cracks."

"Okay."

He started to walk away, then paused. "Dami? In that last shot, when I asked if you were scared?"

"Yeah?"

"You should be." His voice was quiet. "Because this isn't just about money anymore. Your ex is digging into my past. If he finds the wrong things, tells the wrong people..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

He walked toward the guest house, leaving Dami alone in the garden as the last light faded.

Her phone buzzed. Eni: How'd the shoot go?

She looked at the garden, at the spot where she'd been dipped backward, trusting a dangerous man not to let her fall.

Like a dream, she typed back. Exactly like a dream.

But as she walked back to the house, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was living in a nightmare she'd created herself—one she had no idea how to wake up from.

Tomorrow, the engagement photos would go live. Fifteen hundred people would see them, like them, share them.

And in two days, at a wedding on a rented island, surrounded by witnesses and watched by a suspicious ex-boyfriend, she'd either pull off the greatest con of her life—

Or watch it all burn down.