The Offer
The email came just as Favour stepped out of the lecture hall. The subject line read:
"Your Story Deserves a Bigger Stage."
It was from Cora Greene, a literary agent based in New York.
"Your voice. Your journey. It's needed, especially now. I want to represent you. We'll write a book your memoir and I'll get it published. Mainstream. But… we need to spice the story a little. Add some… dramatic elements. A few fictionalized characters. Maybe even exaggerate your mother-in-law a bit?"
Favour stared at the screen. It felt like betrayal dressed in opportunity.
But it was tempting.
Very tempting.
Daniel, when she told him later over video call, shook his head. "Your truth is already dramatic enough, Favour. You don't need to stretch it. That's what they expect of African women—to bleed publicly or scream louder to be heard. Don't give them that satisfaction."
She sighed. "So what do I do?"
Daniel looked her in the eye. "You write it your way. Or not at all."
And for the first time in her life, Favour realized she didn't want fame. She wanted freedom.