Third Person.
Damian mentioned that they were getting close to the gates, but all Bummi could see was an open field, covered in Bermuda grass, with tiny lights glowing on the ground beneath it.
To her, it didn't seem like they were anywhere near the gates.
The road was uneven, almost like a valley, with tall trees scattered around in different corners, especially to the right.
The lane was dark, the only light coming from the car's headlights illuminating the way.
Deep in thought, Damian suddenly asked her to stop the car in the middle of nowhere.
Bummi, confused, was about to ask him why, but he quickly explained that it wouldn't be appropriate for anyone inside the compound to see a woman bringing her man on a date.
However, unbeknownst to her, Damian's request wasn't as simple as it seemed. He had a deeper motive—to prove something to himself, something he felt the need to analyze, something he needed to be certain of.
They switched places, stepping out of the car to change pace, and their arms brushed against each other, causing them to freeze for a moment.
They both stopped abruptly, facing away from each other, yet their hearts beat in sync, pulsing together.
After a brief pause, they turned toward each other at the same time, as if something important needed to be said.
To be honest, both had something they wanted to share, but the question was: who would speak first? The silence only made the moment more awkward.
Then, unexpectedly, something happened.
A few moments later, they were back in the car. Though they had switched positions, the awkwardness from earlier still lingered.
Suddenly, they both burst into laughter, too shy to meet each other's gaze.
"Wow. Jesus," Damian muttered as he started the engine and pulled away.
Bummi was stunned, her breath taken away when she saw the massive gates. The lights on the top terrace flickered on automatically, programmed to activate whenever a car neared.
"Shit!" Damian muttered, glancing at his stopwatch. He had set a timer for 8 o'clock, but now it was already 8:30.
"Is everything okay?" Bummi asked, her attention caught by the large, imposing gate—looking almost like a tower for execution—that suddenly opened.
"No, it's nothing," Damian replied, his tone distant as he drove through.
If there was a word that could describe this place beyond 'mansion,' it would be this one. The building was a masterpiece of sophistication.
The mansion was a high-tech marvel, outfitted with advanced technologies at every turn. Even the walls in hidden corners held AI assistant switches, and from the roof to the foundation, the structure was built with state-of-the-art machinery.
In other words, no one physically opened the gates. They were programmed to recognize specific situations. By scanning the number plate, the system could determine if the visitor was legitimate.
Bummi, still unaware of this, was captivated by the view inside the compound. "Damian… did you grow up here?" she gasped.
"Not exactly," he replied, steering the car in a 180° circle around a massive infinity pool fountain before stopping right in front of the mansion. "I didn't come here much during the holidays." He unbuckled his seatbelt and fixed his deep, dark eyes on her.
But Bummi, still mesmerized by the stunning view outside, didn't meet his gaze.
Noticing her distraction, Damian asked, "Want to take a closer look?"
Without breaking her focus on the view, she nodded. "Yeah..."
"Okay—"
"Wait." She grabbed his arm just as he was about to step out. When he gave her a confused look, she added, "Your tie. You forgot to fix it."
As she helped him adjust the tie, Damian flirted, "Why not leave it? Or are you worried people will think you're taking advantage of this innocent man?"
"Silly," she flicked his forehead, making him wince. "You know no one would believe you."
"Are you sure about th—" Damian stopped mid-sentence when he leaned in for a kiss, and she pulled away.
"Do you want people blaming you for messing up your wife's makeup? I don't think so," she said, grabbing her purse and stepping out of the car.
Damian rolled his eyes and followed her out.
The mansion loomed before them, grand and imposing—a true mega mansion.
A massive infinity pool sat at the heart of the compound, directly in front of the mansion.
The mansion itself was a sprawling 35,000 square-foot estate, a true mega mansion. It had the structure of a three-story building, with two grand staircases, one on each side, leading up to the second floor. The roofs were solid, coated in a deep navy blue, and the rooftop was visible from below.
The infinity pool fountain spanned 360°, positioned perfectly in the center of the compound. Bummi watched in awe as waterproof lights glowed beneath the blue water, reflecting in the ripples as the water cascaded in graceful circles.
While Damian's pool was impressive, it was nothing compared to the sheer scale of this one.
The mansion was supported by sturdy pillars, giving it an air of unshakable stability. On the left side of the building, a magnificent golf course unfolded, with small bulbs glowing softly between the grass. On the right, flags from twenty-one well-known countries, including Nigeria, flew proudly. Bummi guessed these flags represented the countries the owner had visited.
The view was absolutely breathtaking, and Bummi couldn't tear her eyes away, her mouth agape in awe.
When they reached the front door, Damian climbed out first and reached for her hand. Without her realizing it, he was about to lift her off her feet.
When he did, she slapped his shoulder in surprise. "Geez, bad tomboy."
"Me? A tomboy? That's too cheap. Why not refer to me as a prince or a knight?" he teased.
He set her down as they reached the door, where a butler, in his mid-fifties, opened it for them. He bowed his head politely and greeted them with a respectful nod.
The two of them walked in like the perfect couple—Damian's arm around her waist, his other hand casually resting in his pocket.
If the exterior of the mansion was awe-inspiring, Bummi could only imagine how magnificent the interior must be.
Most of the household staff, who hadn't seen Damian in over a decade, watched in stunned silence as he walked in with a woman by his side.
They were taken aback, having not seen him with a woman in so long, especially after his breakup with his ex—a relationship that felt like it happened ages ago.
Some of the staff, who had secretly admired him for years, stood behind pillars and walls, disappointed to see him with someone else.
When they heard the footsteps of their boss and his guest approaching, they quickly scattered, trying to remain unseen.
"Damian! Pearl!" Kunle greeted, his voice filled with excitement. He had thought they wouldn't make it to dinner.
Although Pearl wasn't yet familiar with the family, she had met the older man before.
She gave him a hug, and he grinned, "You look glamorous tonight," he said, winking at her.
Damian noticed her blush and a wave of jealousy surged through him. Clearing his throat to redirect attention, he pulled her closer. "Dad, she dresses only for me, not for others," he said firmly.
Mr. Ayomide couldn't remember the last time he saw his son show such jealousy over a woman. He was surprised to see Damian so smitten, especially since it had been ages since he'd seen him care about anything this much.
"Really?" Mr. Ayomide remarked, his eyes moving to the beautiful woman beside his son. "You've certainly married a jealous man, my dear."
Meanwhile, Bummi couldn't help but notice something odd. Damian and Kunle both seemed to ignore the fourth person in the room—Damian's mother, Kunle's wife.
Bummi recalled what Damian had mentioned earlier in the kitchen about his mother and brothers—noting that she never spent much time with them. But was that reason enough to completely disregard her in this gathering?
At the very least, Damian could have introduced Bummi to his mother, but instead, he completely ignored her, as if she didn't even exist.
He didn't greet her, nor did he offer a hug. In fact, he avoided looking in her direction entirely, steering clear of any eye contact.
When his mother made an attempt to welcome Bummi with an embrace, Kunle quickly stepped in, ushering everyone to the dining area and cutting the moment short.
This behavior wasn't new. Kunle had been avoiding his wife for days because of what she did to Adira. While the situation had supposedly calmed down, Kunle and his three sons were still furious with Ronke. Even though she was eager to make amends, trust had been broken, and no one in the Ayomide family was willing to forgive her.
Damian, too, was adamant about keeping Bummi away from his mother. At the dining table, he made sure to sit next to his wife, keeping her close.
"Dated for two years and married for two months? Damian, that's quite a long time. I should be expecting grandbabies soon," Kunle remarked, only to stop abruptly when Bummi nearly choked on her food. "My dear, are you okay?"
Damian quickly stepped in to cover up the awkward moment. "Dad, there's a time for everything. Besides, I'm a busy man, and Pearl doesn't have much quality time either. Kids can come later." He turned to Bummi, seeking her support. "Right, babe?"
Bummi shook her head vigorously and wiped her lips with a napkin.
"Later?" Kunle chuckled. "Are you two worried that kids might distract you from your careers when you have me to help? Oh, please, I'm retired and jobless now. I can babysit!" He laughed. "I don't want to be eighty before I get grandbabies. At that age, I should be celebrating my first great-grandchild!"
Ronke couldn't help but suppress a giggle. But as she was about to speak, she hesitated, sensing something strange between her son and daughter-in-law. There was something going on under the table, and it seemed like Damian was tempering Bummi in some way.
She chose not to address it immediately, but she wasn't naive. She might not know exactly what was happening under the table, but she knew something was off.
Knowing her son well—despite his innocent exterior—Ronke decided to break the silence. "Pearl, my dear, are you enjoying the meal?" she asked, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground.
Bummi was momentarily taken aback, as if caught doing something wrong, before quickly shaking her head. "Oh yes, ma. It's so delicious," she replied, forcing a smile.
Kunle eyed her skeptically. "Are you sure? You're sweating. Maybe it's too spicy for you. I can get you something else—"
"No, Dad. Pearl always sweats when she eats warm meals. She's used to it," Damian quickly intervened, lying to cover for her. However, Ronke could see right through the lie, especially after noticing the odd behavior under the table.
Kunle shrugged and grabbed the air conditioning remote, increasing the temperature.
Bummi shifted uncomfortably. "No, Dad. It's not the AC. Damian is right. I'm actually allergic to spicy food. And… um, if you don't mind, may I use the bathroom?"
What a smooth liar, Ronke thought.
"Of course," Kunle replied, nodding as Bummi stood up and left.
Ronke stood as well, excusing herself to make a pretend phone call.
The moment Bummi and Ronke were out of sight, Kunle leaned in and whispered, "How is my grandson, Liam, doing?"
Damian sighed, dropping his fork. "He's fine. I've asked his grandmother to keep things under wraps until I find the right moment to unwrap everything."
Kunle shook his head, clearly disappointed. "Poor Pearl. She doesn't know, does she?"
"She doesn't know?" Damian's voice hardened. "Come on, Dad. Pearl knows exactly what's going on. She knows I'm Liam's father, but she's pretending otherwise. She insists on calling him her younger brother. Why, Dad? Why is she punishing me like this? She took my son away from me for years, and now she won't admit the truth. She's not ready to tell her side, not now, and probably never."
"Son, you can't blame her entirely," Kunle said, his voice calm but firm. "Any woman in her position would likely have done the same. She was just so scared to reveal the one thing she held dear—"
"And what about me?" Damian cut him off, his eyes narrowing. "Do you think I don't care about my own flesh and blood, especially after I found out the truth?" He scoffed. "Dad, Pearl stole my right to be a father. She took my son away from me."
"I know," Kunle replied with a sigh, his tone full of understanding.
"I told you about the documents I found in her drawer, right?" Damian pressed.
Kunle nodded. "Yes, yes, I remember. I forgot to ask you—did you manage to change his surname?"
Damian ran a hand through his hair and sighed in frustration. "I contacted one of my lawyers, and he made the changes. The affidavit was fixed. As of now, Liam's surname is officially Ayomide, not Ademola. After that, I sent him and his grandmother to London."
"Have they contacted Pearl about their whereabouts since they got there?" Kunle asked, concern in his voice.
When Damian shook his head, Kunle exhaled, relieved. "At least they're safe for now."
"I hope so," Damian muttered, the worry still evident in his eyes.
Kunle raised his glass in a celebratory gesture. "Well, let's make a toast to a promise fulfilled."
Damian looked confused. "What promise?"
Kunle raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "You don't know what we're celebrating?"
Damian shook his head, unsure. "Obviously not."
Kunle chuckled, clinking his glass with Damian's before taking a sip. "You said you'd find her, and you did. You promised to marry her, and here we are. I'm so proud of you, son."
Damian rubbed his forehead, exhaustion settling in. "You have no idea how tired I am, Dad. From the start, I thought Liam would hate me for abandoning him. For years, I thought he'd think I didn't care. You should have seen how he cried when we finally met. I felt like a failure."
Kunle put his glass down, his expression turning serious. He clasped his hands on the table and looked at his son with intensity. "Listen, Damian, you have nothing to feel guilty about. Liam doesn't hate you. He sees you as the father he's always needed. You've healed the wounds of his past, whether you realize it or not."
"Did you know she's been telling that seventeen-year-old boy his father is dead?" Kunle chuckled, but Damian's expression grew darker. "I'm serious, Dad. She actually told Liam that I was dead."
Kunle stifled his laughter, though a grin still tugged at his lips. "I'm sorry, but that's hilarious. You know how women can be—always complicating things."
Damian crossed his arms, his voice flat. "Fine. I know you'll always take her side."
Kunle let the moment pass, shifting the conversation. "Anyway, Charlotte was here earlier—"
"Dad, I'm married." Damian cut him off quickly, unwilling to entertain any reminders of his past.
"Of course, I know," Kunle responded with a reassuring smile. "And trust me, I've put her in her place."
Damian raised an eyebrow. "Why was she here? What did she want?"
Kunle sighed, taking a sip from his glass. "Forget about her. She's a thing of the past. Let's focus on the real issue."
"Problem?" Damian didn't understand. "What problem?"
Kunle leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Do you know that young Polish business tycoon they're calling the King of Hell? The twenty-two-year-old?"
Damian looked at him, puzzled. "Yeah, I know him. What about him?"
Kunle's face grew serious. "He's Adira's son."
Damian's eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and shock. "Wait, what? How? When did this happen?"
Kunle sighed deeply. "It's a long story, Damian. She called me this morning, crying like it was the end of the world. I honestly thought something had happened to her mother. At first, I asked if it was about Sharon, but when I realized she was fine, I knew something else was up."
Damian leaned forward, his interest piqued. "How is Sebastian Stavrakos connected to her? What's going on?"
Kunle hesitated, his tone becoming more cautious. "It's complicated. And if you want to know more, you're going to have to keep it quiet for now. Adira still needs to figure out how to tell Dayo."
Damian sat back, processing the information, his mind racing. Was Adira married before? Had his older brother unknowingly married a widow or divorcee?
This family, it seemed, was full of secrets—secrets that were only now starting to surface.