When Dayo stormed into Omowummi's mansion, chaos greeted him. The once pristine home was now a whirlwind of disarray. His eyes darted frantically, searching for his daughter, before he gripped the handrail and leaped up the stairs two at a time, urgency in every stride.
In the midst of the turmoil, Rukky knelt beside her daughter, who lay unconscious on the floor. A frothy white substance bubbled from her mouth, a haunting echo of loss that had Rukky's tears flowing freely. She gently repositioned her daughter's head on her chest, her soft Yoruba lullaby contrasting sharply with the panic around them.
Adila sobbed into her phone, desperately trying to secure an ambulance.
Grateful that Sharon was at her grandfather's, Dayo's heart ached with the thought of her witnessing this tragedy.
Bursting into the room, Dayo saw Adira crumpled on the floor, Rukky's anguish palpable beside her. "Adira? Adira?" he called out, his voice laced with fear as he rushed to her side.
Rukky slapped his hands away as he reached for Adira, her face streaked with mascara and fury. "Don't you dare touch my daughter," she spat, her voice quivering. "If anything happens to her, I swear, you'll be the one behind bars."
Unfazed by her threats, Dayo's voice was cold and resolute. "First, you have no say in who touches my wife. Second, she'll be fine, you hear me?" Ignoring her protests, he scooped Adira into his arms and strode out of the room.
Rukky and Adila scrambled after him, desperation driving their every step.
***************
At the hospital's reception, Rukky sat slumped in despair, her face a swollen mess from relentless tears.
Beside her, Adila clung to her mother, sobbing uncontrollably.
Dayo, exasperated by their lack of hope, paced back and forth, anxiously waiting for news from the doctor.
Soon, Damian burst in with a striking figure—a renowned Nigerian-American rapper.
Ryan, Dayo, Damian, and Darin's cousin, had just flown into town, only to be greeted by this dire situation. Although he barely knew Dayo's ex-wife or their brief marriage due to his infrequent visits to Nigeria, he had come along when he heard it involved Dayo's family.
Ryan, who shares Damian's age, is dark-skinned with a thick American accent, a product of his American upbringing, and covered in an array of tattoos.
"Ah, Oluwatobiloba!" Dayo greeted him with a restrained hug, his mood too grim for enthusiasm.
"It's Ryan, man," Ryan corrected, his presence drawing curious glances from everyone except Rukky and Adila.
Some fans tried to approach for autographs but were deterred by the intimidating presence of Ryan's bodyguards. Meanwhile, a few nurses adjusted their skirts to catch his eye, but Ryan remained aloof.
It had been ages since Ryan last set foot in Nigeria, his visit primarily for business and an upcoming live concert.
"I'm really glad to see you, big homie. I heard what happened and I'm so damn sorry," Ryan said, his sympathy evident.
"It's okay, Tobi," Dayo replied, using Ryan's middle name. "It's great to see you after fifteen years," he added, struggling to smile amidst the chaos.
"Yeah, my man."
"How was the flight? What brings you to Naija?" Dayo asked.
"Forget about me. How's your angel?" Ryan's gaze shifted to Rukky and Adila. "Who are they?"
"Her mom and twin sister," Dayo explained.
Ryan sighed, his expression troubled. Despite his notorious reputation as a womanizer, he felt their pain acutely. "This whole situation is just messed up," he said, eyes fixed on them.
"What did the doctor say?" Damian asked urgently. "Any updates?"
Dayo's face fell as he delivered the grim news. "Two things. First, the poison destroyed her reproductive system, making her infertile. Second, she's in a coma."
"What?" Damian and Ryan exclaimed in shock.
"Damn! Holy shit! This is terrible…" Ryan muttered.
"So…" Damian struggled to grasp the situation. "You two are just going to go along life with Sharon as an only child?"
***************
Bummi's P.O.V
Alright, everyone, the moment has arrived. It's been ages since we last connected, and during that time, things have shifted in our favor.
I've got something special for you!
Care to guess what's in this goody bag?
Hmm…
Alright, I'll spill the beans.
Here it comes!
As you know, I was working on getting back my job, which I lost nearly two years ago. Lola and Ojo have been instrumental in this process, helping with the negotiations, though I crafted the overall plan.
Yes, my plan was flawless.
I used Lola as a strategic move to achieve our goal, but something unexpected just happened—something so surprising that even Lola and Ojo are still in disbelief.
Lola's been chatting with this guy at my request. It was going smoothly, and that's why we're here—he wanted to meet her in person, so we came as a group.
You'll soon understand the full reason behind our presence here.
We're all dressed for a business meeting, except Lola, who's in a sundress and hat, as if heading to the beach.
I suggested this look. If she needed to explain our presence, she could say Ojo is her secretary and I'm her assistant.
That's one part of it. Want to hear the other side?
Well…
Our jobs have been reinstated with respect and a bonus for the lost time. It's like we were on an extended vacation.
I'm thrilled, but Mom and Nifemi are over the moon!
How did this miracle happen?
Let me share my little secret.
Just yesterday afternoon, Lola, Ojo, and I were having a drink at a lemonade shop near Lola's boutique.
We were chatting about an upcoming fashion trade fair gala hosted by the renowned Adila Omowummi, CEO of Adila Golden Needle. We'd already picked out our outfits and were eagerly awaiting the event when suddenly, Ojo's phone blared with an urgent call.
From his reaction, I knew he was reluctant to answer, but he eventually did.
Care to guess what happened next?
I'm sure you're curious.
…Come on, you've got this.
Tadah!
It's a miracle!
Mr. Tunji—remember him?
He called, practically begging, to tell us our jobs are back with double promotions.
High rank, baby!
We've been compensated for all the lost time.
He even said we can start in two days.
I'm still puzzled by the sudden turnaround, so I wondered if Lola or Ojo might have pulled some strings. They're not capable of such, but I was curious.
Turns out, neither was involved in the 'Comebacks' revenge.
I figured Lola and Ojo might have moved on from the job, considering it's been two years. They come from wealthy families, so I thought I'd be the only one clinging to the job, never giving up.
I knew this day would come. God saw my dedication in His vineyard, and all my prayers and devotion paid off.
Mr. Tunji is as tough as nails, unlike our CEO, Mr. Williams Ogiemwonyi, who's much more approachable.
So I let my thoughts wander—like a divine miracle from the heavens.
Manna from above!
And now, here we are in the lavish mansion of the man who made us stay home for two years. We're here to give him a lesson he'll never forget, to teach him not to mess with people's livelihoods and to learn forgiveness.
I loathe nonsense.
So this is where the predator has been hiding.
I laugh.
Look at him, believing Lola actually has feelings for him.
We're here to take him down, Mr.
The house is colossal—wait.
Did I just call it a HOUSE?
Oh my God, Bummi, when will you learn?
It's a MANSION. A spectacular one at that.
In my entire life, I've never seen a building like this.
So there are still truly rich and opulent people around?
This one's a prime example.
I remember the multitude of bodyguards at the gate and throughout the estate—all in black tuxedos, as if it's a funeral.
Who died?
And the staff here…
If I told you, would you believe me?
But, can I ask a question?
How many people does it take to handle house chores?
Back where I come from, I do all the cleaning and washing myself, unless by some miracle Nifemi actually decides to help.
But this place? It's something else!
My goodness, Eledumare, come and see!
Wow!
This mansion is unreal!
You'd get lost trying to navigate this place if you ever made it in.
There are so many hallways, doors, entrances, and stairways—two on each side.
Everything is gilded—stairs, handrails, doors, high stools, pillars. It's gold everywhere!
How many more details can I even count?
I can't tear my eyes away from the artwork and designs on the walls. Even though I'm not much of an art enthusiast, I can't help but admire it.
PERFÈCTO DÈ TOP NOTCH! That's all I can say.
My hands can't get enough of the smooth walls—it feels like luxury beyond belief.
The walls are pristine white, the floor tiles match, and the chandeliers are gold-encrusted with diamond crystals.
God, wake me up. It's like I've slipped through the gates of heaven without a soul noticing.
It feels like that.
"Aiye," my heart nearly jumped out when Ojo, not paying attention, bumped into me from behind.
"Madame, watch where you're going, abeg," Ojo grumbled in Nigerian pidgin, both annoyed and relieved.
Seriously, who's the more blind one here?
I get it, Ojo's just as awestruck by the opulence.
They might be wealthy, but this? This is next level.
"Heyyyy," Ojo yelped, clutching his head. I thought he might have broken something.
It's not like even his family's fortune could cover this, but it wasn't that.
He spotted something new and dragged Lola and me over to it. "Look at this! I told you about it yesterday, and you didn't even recognize it."
Oh, Ojo.
It was a small vase with what looked like artificial flames inside.
Ojo's reaction was understandable—its lifelike flames and smoke could fool anyone into thinking the house was on fire.
While Lola and I stared at it as if seeing fire for the first time, Ojo couldn't stop praising the vase and its owner. He was practically dancing, hands on his head, exclaiming, "Ye! Olorun, oluwa eh. Just marry me, we'll adopt kids, right, Lola?"
He must be joking. "Oga, show some respect for your family's status."
"Respect? For what?" Ojo looked me up and down. "Forget that. If you combined all my family's wealth, it wouldn't buy this tiny thing right here. Respect? Ha! Mtcheeew."
Lola tried to comment on the vase too. "Look at this part of the vase—it's shining red like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer—"
"Please, settle down." An anonymous voice interrupted from somewhere behind us. It was like the voice came from nowhere but still felt omnipresent.
Ojo, Lola, and I all swiveled our heads at once to see a towering, dashing guy in a black suit watching us.
We exchanged smirks and shuffled sideways from the flower vase.
"My boss will be with you shortly," he said, then turned and left.
"This way, please," another staff member, about my mother's age, motioned us towards the golden stairs.
We nudged each other, unsure who should go first. When the woman saw us hesitating like statues, she frowned and said, "Please, come with me."
Lola led the way, followed by Ojo and me.
It felt like we'd stepped into another slice of paradise.
Though it was still the same golden mansion, this part was different.
I asked Lola, "Are you sure this is the right place?"
"Why do you ask?" she whispered back.
"It feels like we've ended up at Davido's place."
"Did you see any pictures of Davido or other musicians?" Lola shot back in Nigerian pidgin English.
Clearly, Lola wasn't getting it.
"Tell me, who usually owns houses like this? Celebrities and politicians, right?" I said, "Let me tell you—"
"Please, make yourselves at home," the woman smiled, ushering us to the sitting area.
We all dived onto a long couch, claiming it with the usual "first come, first served" rule.
"Juice or wine?" Another woman, also of my mother's age, interrupted our debate.
Wait a minute… All the staff—male and female, including the butler we met earlier—were all middle-aged. I didn't see anyone my age.
Does this guy only hire older people? Or is he allergic to youth?
"Um, juice—wine—water—em, juice," we stumbled over our choices.
The woman noticed our confusion and poured wine into three Spanish martini glasses, leaving the bottles for us to refill if needed.
Ojo tasted his wine with a grimace. "This 'wine' tastes sweeter than Sprite and Seven Up. It's a hundred percent amazing."
Ojo's a real disappointment to our girlie decorum. "Ozuo, it's white wine, not Sprite or Seven Up."
"Leave him," Lola hissed, savoring her sip. "Let him embarrass himself."
"We need to come up with a plan for when he arrives," I added.
Ojo examined the wine bottle, contemplating how it might feel smashing it on the guy's head.
"Oga, forget the bottle," Lola whispered. I was in the middle, sipping quietly. "We need to focus on—"
"Lola Oluwatobi Ogunmola. Bummi Pearl Ademola, leader of the gang. And Ojo Patrick Salami."
My heart skipped a beat hearing my full name from a stranger.
No one calls me by my full name except my mother. It's rare and personal, a treasure from my late grandpa. Who is this guy to name me so casually?
Ojo spit out his wine, and Lola nearly choked, coughing uncontrollably.
We turned toward the voice and saw a familiar man walk in with an air of authority and confidence.
His gaze alone told us trouble was brewing.
Ojo nervously placed his glass down, pressing his legs together. "Omo, I need to piss," he said, but sat back down immediately when he saw the imposing security men stationed around.
Cold sweat broke out on my forehead as if it were summer's chill.
I had a feeling today would be a disaster from the moment I woke up.
Lola, always on edge, would probably faint if we hadn't come together. Seeing this man's aura, she'd barely last a minute alone.
Her hand gripped my skirt like it was her lifeline.
Yet, the first time we met this guy at the company two years ago, he seemed so gentle.
Now, we were trembling like we'd seen a gun.
He settled on a couch across from us, smiling. "Why are you shaking like frightened chickens?" His grin made his handsome face light up.
His relaxed posture belied an underlying menace—I could tell he was hiding a dark side beneath that innocent façade.
With a booming laugh, he sprang to his feet, making us flinch.
He began to pace around the room. Lola, Ojo, and I huddled together, anxiously hoping he wouldn't pull out a gun.
He abruptly stopped and locked his gaze on Lola. "Alicia, right?" Lola shook her head frantically. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "So, have you changed your name to Lola? Or should I call you Lola Oluwatobi Ogunmola?"
Lola's fear was palpable, even if I wasn't looking directly at her. "I... I... I can explain, Sir."
The guy's brows shot up again. "Sir? What happened to 'Hello my love'? 'Sweetheart'? 'Darling'? You seem to have forgotten all the endearments you used to shower on me," he chuckled. Then turning to me, he said, "Ms. Bummi Pearl Ademola, I quite like the sound of 'Pearl'—it's like orange juice on my tongue. Is it true your grandpa bestowed that lovely name on a self-centered girl like you?"
I felt a surge of anger. If he uses that name again, he's asking for trouble.
"And you're the lead of this little group," he continued, shaking his head. "Are you shocked, my dear?"
I bit my lip, mortified. I wished I could sink into the floor or simply vanish.
"Or would you prefer a more shocking tale?" He flashed a grin that held no humor. "Here it comes." He pulled out a confident, manly stance. "You know your jobs? I was the one who called the company to reinstate them."
Wait, what?
He was the one who got us our jobs back?
So it wasn't Mr. Tunji's conscience that moved him, but this guy's?
I felt utterly worthless. If I ever get out of here, I doubt I'll hold my head high again.
"Don't feel too bad, sweetheart." He scoffed, as if he could read my thoughts. He lounged back on the couch in his previous relaxed position. "You thought you were clever, coming to my home all dressed up like you had a business meeting with me, planning to take me down?"
No!
I swear, none of us intended to kill him. Sure, we planned to teach him a lesson, but the idea of murder was never on the table. Who knew he had such tight security?
"Sir, it's not what you think—"
"I've been tracking your every move," he cut Lola off. "Pearl," Oh please, "Or whatever you call yourself." His gaze narrowed at me as he settled back on the edge of the couch, arms resting on his thighs. "You lost your job due to your own lateness and lack of commitment, but you blame me? You chatted with me for over a year, then had the audacity to charge me a million naira for some bogus ticket to meet your dad in Mali."
My enemies are working overtime. Who leaked my details to this guy?
I've never felt so humiliated. It's as if I'm exposed before the world's press.
Who betrayed me?
He smirked. "I knew this day would come. That's why I played along. You tried to cover your tracks with religion and devotion." He mocked, mimicking my old words, "I'm a chorister and work in God's vineyard." He laughed and became serious after. "I believe in God, but I don't believe that devoted Christians lie."
He pointed at himself. "I haven't set foot in a church in ages. I love hearing God's word, I tithe and give offerings online, and I support orphanages every month. Despite all this..."
He counted on his fingers. "I don't lie. I despise dishonesty and cheating. If I need something I can't obtain with my wealth, I humbly ask the person who has it. I don't resort to deceit. There's no difference between you and a con artist or unbeliever."
Tears finally spilled down my face, one by one.
"Ah, oga, I did not follow oh," Ojo tried to defend himself.
"Shut up!" he snapped. "Are you male or female?"
Ojo mumbled, "She-male."
He scoffed and laughed mockingly. "Want to hear how I got your information?" Before we could respond, he continued, "First, your number, Pearl."
Wait, what? My number? Is this guy some kind of tracker? That's an invasion of privacy. "My personal bodyguard is a tech genius. With just your number, we tracked all three of you—your locations, daily activities, conversations, and the day you swapped numbers with Lola to deceive me. I noticed everything but played along. Lola's boutique store's location scan code was also a help." He winked at Lola.
Lola gasped, as if she'd had a long-standing asthma attack.
I could sense the shame in her voice. Honestly, none of us were free from guilt. Ojo might have fewer records, but Lola and I were the main culprits.
And we blew it.
"You thought you had me figured out, but I saw through you," he said, pointing to his eyes and then at us. "I watched every move you made, including your meeting at the lemonade shop yesterday."
Oh my God!
This is an open ballot box.
So, all these years, this guy's been secretly monitoring us, playing a hidden game?
Where did he get such cunning from?
His eyes narrowed. "What's the name of the little shop you and this 'She-male' run again?" He chuckled and stood up.
All three of us had our heads bowed, as if looking up might scorch us under the sun's glare.
He reached out and received a file from the same guy who'd earlier told us to sit downstairs.
His gaze never wavered, and all I saw was a dangerous mix of anger and menace.
"Pearl," he said, making me flinch at the sound of my name. "You started this game, so you'll need to see it through."
It felt like a force yanked me from heaven to hell.
He grabbed my arm and tossed me onto a distant couch, away from where Ojo and Lola sat.
Please, God, let my name be in the book of life.
"Sit here," he commanded, with an undeniable authority.
I nearly lost my balance on the couch.
Then he squatted in front of me.
I didn't dare raise my head or meet his gaze.
With a flick of his finger, he lifted my chin. "Aren't you bold anymore? You used to be sharp-tongued during our calls," he smirked, brows forming a sympathetic frown. "How can a beautiful woman like you play the scammer against someone so quick-witted? It doesn't suit you, my dear."
He stood up, and before I could react, it felt like a gun would be pressed on my head any moment from now.
I'm sorry, but right now, all I want is a painless death.
I've begged the ground to swallow me whole rather than face this humiliation.
"I could have had you arrested the first day you started plotting, but…" Oh God, please help me. I promise to change my ways. Please, help me… "Tsk. I'm not that kind of guy."
Thank you, Lord. Thank you so much.
"But…" He extended a finger, never breaking eye contact with me.
Why is he fixating on me? The more he stares, the hotter and tighter the room feels.
"Pearl will have to do something to cover up for the arrest conditions."
Huh? What am I supposed to do?
He turned toward Ojo and Lola, his hands in his pockets like a gentleman. "Hi there." He grinned wickedly. "Do you want to go home free?" Without hesitation, I knew Ojo and Lola wanted to escape this inferno. "Well then, your friend needs to sign a one-billion-naira contract."
A billion naira?
I need to see it for myself.
"For what she's done, she's harmed my public image." I didn't tarnish your reputation, so what are you talking about? "Last night, I told my brother about our online relationship. He's eager to meet the woman who captured his younger brother's heart." He chuckled, making me want to throttle him. If he smiles at me one more time…
"Why don't you continue the pretense now that we've met in person, Bummi Pearl Ademola?" He turned cold and serious as he threw a pen at me. "Sign the damn marriage contract."
What the—?!
Me: "..."
Ojo: "(⊙ȏ⊙)"
Lola: "(☉｡☉)!"