Her Crown of Thorns

Her Crown of Thorns

Nelly God'swill

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Zara, a twenty-year-old struggling to make ends meet with two demanding jobs in the city's underbelly, finds solace in a secret sketchbook filled with bold fashion designs. Despite her meager circumstances, her imagination runs wild with dreams of luxury and creativity. That is, until she meets Ethan Maxwell, a reclusive tech mogul with a mysterious past and a penchant for secrecy. Ethan, who has built an empire through sheer determination and grit, is drawn to Zara's raw talent and unyielding spirit, qualities that echo his own guarded past. As Zara navigates the cutthroat world of high society and corporate intrigue, she realizes that wealth and privilege come with hidden costs and dangers. Meanwhile, Ethan finds himself captivated by Zara's authenticity, a refreshing change from the superficiality that surrounds him. As they grow closer, their differences spark an undeniable attraction. However, a rival from Ethan's past emerges, threatening to destroy their fragile connection and expose secrets that could jeopardize everything. Can they build a future together, one that balances love, ambition, and trust, or will the shadows of their pasts tear them apart?

Chapter 1 The Late Shift

The buzzing fluorescent lights inside The Daily Grind cast a dull yellow glow over the chipped floor, making everything look even more tired than it already was. Outside, Lagos was alive with its usual nighttime chaos, but in here, the air was heavy with the scent of old coffee and burnt sugar.

I wiped the counter slowly, the cloth in my hand damp and lifeless. Sticky traces of spilled lattes clung to the surface, refusing to come off. My shoulders throbbed with a pain I'd gotten used to, and my feet-stuffed into sneakers that should've been thrown away months ago-felt like blocks of stone. It was almost closing time. Soon, I could finally take off this sweaty, stained uniform and get away from the never-ending whine of the espresso machine.

Each movement was a reminder of how tired and broke I was. I mentally calculated how much I'd made today. Not enough. Rent was due in three days. My younger brother, Emeka, needed his asthma meds again. And the electricity bill was higher than usual this month. Mama hadn't said anything, but I'd seen the worry in her eyes.

I wasn't hungry, but something still ached in my stomach. That tight, gnawing feeling of anxiety. The kind that never went away. No matter how hard I worked, it always felt like I was running in place, never catching up.

I stacked some old mugs and glanced at the dirty window. Outside, I could hear the traffic, the city sounding like a wild animal, always hungry. Just for a second, I let my mind wander; imagining soft lights, clean fabric, and the scratch of pencil on paper as I brought one of my clothing designs to life. But it was a dangerous thought, that dream. A distraction. I pushed it aside and focused on the sugar dispensers. They needed refilling. At least that was something I could control.

As I poured sugar into one of the containers, the grains spilled onto the counter just like the worries overflowing in my chest.

I had just wiped down the last table when I heard a familiar sigh behind me.

It was Mr. Adebayo, the café's owner. His shoulders always drooped like he carried the weight of the whole city. He wasn't a bad man. Just tired like the rest of us in this struggling part of town.

"Zara," he said, voice rough and low. "it's a Slow day again. The generator chewed up half our profit, and that espresso machine is acting up."

I didn't turn around. I already knew what he was going to say. I wiped the table more slowly, bracing myself.

"I might need to cut some hours next week," he added. My stomach dropped. "And your pay from yesterday... I'll need to hold on to it for a day or two. Just until the next delivery. You understand, right?"

My hand froze on the table. A day or two? The words hit me like a slap. A cold wave of fear cut through my exhaustion. He said it like it was nothing but it wasn't. Not to me, but to my brother Emeka.

It was his asthma Ventolin, dinner for tonight. And for the thin line between just barely surviving... and slipping completely.

"Understood, sir," I said quietly, forcing the words out. My voice sounded calm, but it was a lie one I told with every part of me. I gripped the damp cloth tighter, my knuckles going white. Inside, I wanted to scream: No, I don't understand. I need it now. Right now.

But I said nothing. The words stayed trapped in my throat, useless and unheard.

He nodded, probably thinking I was fine with it, then shuffled back to his dim little office.

I stayed there, standing in the silence of the nearly empty café. The stillness felt heavier than usual. The numbers in my head, my careful plans has fallen apart like broken glass. That money was part of everything. Without it, everything else crumbled too. And there was no backup plan. There never was.

When I finally stepped outside, the night air hit me hard, cold against my skin. The bells above the café door jingled behind me, almost mocking. I crumpled my apron in one hand, my uniform half unbuttoned beneath my old jacket. The street stretched out ahead, lit by tired yellow lights. Shadows moved on the walls, stretching long and strange.

Somewhere down the road, Fuji music blasted from a buka, mixing with the rumble of generators and the calls of late-night hawkers. The street wasn't exactly dangerous but it didn't feel safe either.

My mind was racing, full of fears that I couldn't be quite about.

Emeka's medicine,

Mama's worsening cough, and

The landlord's angry phone calls.

Each step I took felt heavier, like I was carrying all of it on my back.

Mr. Adebayo's words rang in my ears: "A day or two."

That wasn't a delay, it was a sentence.

Without that money, Emeka wouldn't get his inhaler tonight. I pictured him struggling to breathe, chest rising and falling in fast, shallow gasps. My stomach twisted.

I pulled my jacket tighter, trying to block out both the cold and the rising panic. I had another job in two hours; cleaning offices downtown. No time to rest. No space to breathe. Just more work. Always more work, for money that never seemed to be enough.

As I turned the corner, the soft light from a boutique window caught my eye. The mannequins were dressed in elegant gowns; silk and satin shining under the lights. One of them, in emerald green, seemed to glow. It stopped me for a moment. My chest ached with longing. That dress belonged in another world. A world where I wasn't scrubbing floors and skipping meals. A world where I could afford to dream.

I closed my eyes and turned away. Dreams like that didn't belong to girls like me. Not anymore.

Old memories stirred; the ones I tried hard not to think about.

And all these were before Papa's accident,

Before hospital bills ate our savings.

Before his legs stopped working.

And before Mama worked herself into exhaustion.

We were never rich, but we were okay. There was laughter then. Peace in Mama's eyes.

Now, it was just me. Holding everything together with tired hands and borrowed strength.

Emeka depended on me.

Mama counted on me.

And that love-deep, fierce, unshakable was the only thing that kept me moving.

Step after step, into another endless night.

My tiny room was a sanctuary, even if it was barely larger than my single mattress. The air was thick with the scent of old books and the lingering trace of Mama's dinner from earlier. beans and plantain, if I had to guess. I kicked off my sneakers, each movement sending sharp protests through my aching feet, and peeled off my damp uniform. The quiet hum of the old fridge in the corner kitchen was the only sound, a low, familiar comfort against the heavy silence of my thoughts.

Before I could even think about getting ready for my second job, I stole a few moments for myself.

From beneath a stack of worn textbooks, I pulled out my lifeline: a battered spiral sketchbook. The cover was creased, the edges frayed, but inside; it was sacred. The one place where I was still me. Not the girl counting coins or holding her breath at the pharmacy. It was... Just... me.

My fingers, stiff from wiping tables and hauling trays at the coffee shoo, shook a little as I turned to a blank page. The pencil felt like an extension of something deep within me, something I couldn't name but always recognized the moment it touched the paper.

I started to draw.

First the outline of a fabric in motion. soft silk, draping like it had a soul. Then beadwork, intricate and deliberate, inspired by Mama's Ankara wraps. I twisted the familiar patterns into something modern, something bold. Lines flowed into curves, angles into texture. With every stroke, the noise in my head quieted, drowned out by the soothing scratch of graphite on paper.

Here, I was free.

Not Zara, the coffee shop girl with her head down and her voice quiet.

Not Zara, the cleaner rushing through fluorescent-lit offices after midnight.

Here, I was Zara the designer. The girl who saw stories in seams and power in pleats.

I was working on a gown I'd been dreaming of for weeks. Regal, complicated, beautiful. A high neckline that held the head like a crown, and a skirt that poured down in layers like a waterfall. I called it Crown of Thorns; though I never said it out loud. It wasn't just a dress. It was a message. A symbol of beauty born from pain, of sacrifice dressed up as grace.

It was my most impossible dream and the only thing that still made sense.

For these few stolen minutes, it was real.

And for these few minutes... I could breathe.

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Chapters
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Her Crown of Thorns
1

Chapter 1 The Late Shift

10/06/2025

2

Chapter 2 The Chance Encounter

10/06/2025

3

Chapter 3 The Empire's Weight

10/06/2025

4

Chapter 4 Mobilizing Resources

10/06/2025

5

Chapter 5 A Renewed Resolve

10/06/2025

6

Chapter 6 A Spark of Resourcefulness

10/06/2025

7

Chapter 7 A Glimpse into Another World

10/06/2025

8

Chapter 8 A Daring Idea

10/06/2025

9

Chapter 9 Preparation and Trepidation

10/06/2025

10

Chapter 10 Perseverance and Desperation

10/06/2025

11

Chapter 11 The Shock of Recognition

10/06/2025

12

Chapter 12 The Unforeseen Dilemma

11/06/2025

13

Chapter 13 Stepping Inside the Fortress

11/06/2025

14

Chapter 14 Probing and Revealing

11/06/2025

15

Chapter 15 The Unexpected Offer

12/06/2025

16

Chapter 16 The Unbelievable News

12/06/2025

17

Chapter 17 First Day Jitters

12/06/2025

18

Chapter 18 Daily Challenges and Small Triumphs

12/06/2025

19

Chapter 19 Ethan's First Observations

12/06/2025

20

Chapter 20 Beyond the Professional

12/06/2025

21

Chapter 21 The Brushstrokes of Fate

05/07/2025

22

Chapter 22 The Phantom Thread

05/07/2025

23

Chapter 23 The Unraveling Thread

05/07/2025

24

Chapter 24 A Deeper Dive into the Anomaly

05/07/2025

25

Chapter 25 The Weight of the Secret

05/07/2025

26

Chapter 26 A Double Life

05/07/2025

27

Chapter 27 The Chilling Revelation

06/07/2025

28

Chapter 28 A New Level of Threat

06/07/2025

29

Chapter 29 The Personal Violation

07/07/2025

30

Chapter 30 A Chilling Discovery

07/07/2025

31

Chapter 31 Deciphering the Key

07/07/2025

32

Chapter 32 A Personal Riddle

08/07/2025

33

Chapter 33 The Viper in the Velvet Glove

08/07/2025

34

Chapter 34 The Hidden Nerve Center

08/07/2025

35

Chapter 35 Survival and Betrayal

08/07/2025

36

Chapter 36 The Desperate Plan

08/07/2025

37

Chapter 37 A Needle in a Haystack

08/07/2025

38

Chapter 38 The Countdown Begins

09/07/2025

39

Chapter 39 Desperate Measures

09/07/2025

40

Chapter 40 The Shadow in the Dark

09/07/2025