₦airaland Forum

Gambling is addictive and destructive.

I will not be against banning it.

I agree that sportsmen should save when the goings are rosy.

But calling for a jail term for broke former players is outlandish.

You may as well call for a jail term for all those who make money but lost it!

Indeed, sexual temptations are common. The good thing is that they can be overcome. The renewal of Mind can help one to overcome.

The truth is sex is OVERRATED.

Princess Betty laughed too, though her eyes never quite left me. “It’s a very private affair,” she said, as if reading my thoughts. “Just the four of us. No fanfare, no noise. Just truth.”

The table was set on a low platform beneath a series of delicate pendant lights. As we sat, two maids moved quietly between us, setting down plates of peppered goat meat, grilled lobster, jollof rice with prawns, and steaming bowls of yam porridge laced with truffle oil. The wine was French—old, expensive, and silky on the tongue.

Conversation flowed easily, with Princess Betty steering the mood like a conductor. She asked about my family, my background, and even my opinion on the current state of Nigerian cinema. Jolade mostly listened, Daniel occasionally chimed in with humor.

But I couldn’t ignore the way the Princess kept looking at me—curious, assessing, almost… familiar. As if she were seeing something in me that even I hadn’t discovered yet.

After dessert—coconut cream with caramel drizzle—Jolade excused herself to take a call, and Daniel followed shortly after, stepping onto the terrace to give her privacy.

That left just the two of us.

The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind Jolade’s voice, sealing the room like a vault. The sounds of music and laughter from the garden faded until they were little more than background static—like a memory already slipping away.

Princess Betty stood at the bar and poured us both another glass of deep red wine, the kind that moved like velvet and smelled like black cherries and smoke. She handed me one without a word, her fingers brushing mine for the briefest second—cool, deliberate, unreadable.

She returned to her seat, curling into the armchair opposite mine with a grace that felt instinctual. No pretense. No theater. Just presence. The firelight from the nearby hearth cast warm shadows along her cheekbones, softening her edges. But her eyes—those eyes remained sharp as ever.

The silence that fell between us was deep. Not awkward. Not tense. It was… full. Like the moment right before a confession or the second before a storm breaks.

“You know,” she said finally, swirling the wine in her glass, “I’ve had more lavish birthdays than I care to remember. Gold-leaf cakes. Champagne flown in from Reims. Six-course dinners curated by Michelin chefs. Presidents. Royalty. Entertainers trying too hard to be seen.”

She took a sip, her gaze distant, then glanced over at me. “But tonight—this? Just a few voices, no cameras, no agendas? This is what I wanted.”

I nodded slowly. “It’s… intimate. Peaceful.”

“Yes. And rare.”
Her tone changed on that last word. Something weighted. Intentional.

She looked at me—fully now. No smile. No mask.

“But rare things,” she continued, “are often misunderstood. Feared. Or worse… broken by people who think they know what they're handling.”

Her words settled like dust on glass—fine, almost invisible, until the light hits at just the right angle. I could feel there was more beneath them. A deeper story unspoken.

“I invited you, Femi,” she said, leaning forward slightly, “not just because I admire your work.”

I looked up. Her voice had shifted. Lower. Steadier.

“I admire your eyes,” she said. “The way you see the world. Not just the grit or the pain—but the beauty in it. You don’t look away. You don’t romanticize it either. You just… witness.”

She paused, wineglass resting against her knee. Her gaze didn’t falter.
“And I miss that,” she said quietly. “In people. That honesty.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “You think I see you clearly?”

“No,” she said, barely above a whisper. “But I want you to.”

That line hit me like a blow I didn’t expect—soft but staggering. It wasn’t flirtation. It wasn’t seduction. It was something far more dangerous.

It was trust.

Or the beginning of it.

The space between us grew charged. Not romantic. Not sexual. But electric in a different way—like the quiet tension between two people who had just stepped off the edge of something irreversible. A bond was forming, subtle and risky, in the places where most people build walls.

I opened my mouth, unsure of what I was going to say, when—

“Mummy!”
The voice from the hallway shattered the moment like glass dropped on tile.
Jolade again. “Daniel and I are heading out!”

Princess Betty stood immediately, her gown whispering across the marble floor. The moment snapped shut. Whatever had been stirring between us folded itself away—quietly, efficiently.

“Alright, darling,” she called out. “Drive safe. Call me when you get home.”

I rose, wine glass still in hand, my heartbeat trying to make sense of everything that hadn’t been said.

She turned to me, smiling again—but it was the public smile now. The one she used for diplomacy and boardrooms. Not the one from before.

“Thank you for coming, Femi,” she said, extending her hand once more. Polite. Professional. But her grip lingered half a second longer than necessary.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I said, still searching her eyes for the woman who had whispered I want you to just minutes ago.

Outside, the air was cooler than before. The kind of Lagos night where even the wind feels like it’s carrying secrets. I walked back to my car slowly, the envelope still in my coat pocket, the taste of wine on my tongue, and something else sitting deeper in my chest:

A truth that hadn’t yet revealed itself.
And a woman who had just opened a door.
The only question was—what waited on the other side?


“I’ll be in touch,” she said.

She knew the kind of person he was and was not very pleased about some past deeds and misdeeds.

But she continued to wonder how Biyi got her number in the first place. Perhaps a mutual friend had given the returnee.

Her mind hovered on telling her husband about the call, but – again – she quickly dismissed the idea. She would handle it all alone, she thought. Indeed, it seemed unfair to bring him in. she had involved herself in a mess, which – she believed – she must get herself out of, all by herself.

Femi forgot the unanswered call and made passionate love to his wife. He was always good in that. Unlike him, she was only pretending to be enjoying the act. Her thinking was distant and troubled.


* * *


It wasn’t until ten o’clock the following morning when Biyi called again. Femi had left for office about four hours ago and Julie was alone in the house apart from the maidservant. Femi’s brother had also gone out.

When her phone rang, she could see that it was an unknown number which turned out to be Biyi’s own.

‘Were you the one that called last night?’ she asked tersely, uptight There was a short laugh.

‘Yeah. I just wanted to hear your voice.’ ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

He became all serious again. ‘That’s why we’ve got to talk.’ He allowed a brief silence. ‘Do you know the Accordia Hotel?’

She had heard of the name, but she couldn’t place where it was. ‘I think I do.’ He gave her the address. ‘Let’s meet there in the lobby at 11.00 this morning.’

‘What kind of mischief are you up to?’

‘There’s no mischief. We’ll only talk, okay? That’s the rendezvous.’

She thought briefly. ‘Okay.’

The line was disconnected. She felt a little bit feverish. An hour to go, she thought, musing over the person she was to meet. Something told her she should not go on with it, but – on a second thought – she shrugged it off. No harm, she thought. If ever he was preposterous in what he was going to say, she could easily tell him to go to hell.

Biyi was her first love, her heartthrob during her under-graduate days. They were in the same department, doing the same course and striving to excel in the study of linguistics. Julie could not avoid being enamored to his handsome and vivacious mien.

Besides, he had an easy smile and laugh that were infectious. She liked his idea of romanticism.

He had given her the name, Princess. Effusive as ever, he had described that she was greater than Cleopatra and Mona Lisa combined. In his words, Julie was like Venus who diffused aura of love, affection and passion. So, he called her Princess of the universe. Not that she minded, though.

Trouble had started in the third year. She had been hearing that he was fraternizing with one secret cult or the other on the campus, but there was no way those fleeting words could be affirmed. Then, one day, she had challenged him about it, demanding for nothing but the absolute truth. He confirmed her worst fears, but promised that in a matter of short time, he would renounce the damnable thing.

He never did. Rather, he went ahead to become ‘the capo.’ All the while, he didn’t stop effusing words about his endless love for her. She was in a serious quandary but her mind urged her to play along. The hammer finally fell on him when he was rusticated from the university.

..

*Jesus: The All-Sufficient Provider*

In a world filled with uncertainty and scarcity, Jesus offers a profound promise: He is the all-sufficient Provider. From the bread of life to the living water, Jesus demonstrates His ability to meet our deepest needs.

*Scriptural Foundation*

- "I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst." - John 6:35
- "And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus." - Philippians 4:19

*Attributes of Jesus as Provider*

- *Omnipotence*: Jesus has all power and authority, enabling Him to provide for our every need.
- *Omniscience*: Jesus knows our needs before we ask, demonstrating His infinite wisdom and understanding.
- *Love*: Jesus' provision is motivated by His deep love for us, shown through His sacrifice on the cross.

*Experiencing Jesus as Provider*

- *Trust*: Trusting Jesus as Provider requires faith in His goodness, love, and power.
- *Prayer*: Bringing our needs to Jesus in prayer, trusting in His ability to provide.
- *Gratitude*: Expressing thankfulness for Jesus' provision, acknowledging His faithfulness.

*Benefits of Relying on Jesus*

- *Peace*: Trusting Jesus as Provider brings peace, knowing that He cares and will supply our needs.
- *Contentment*: Focusing on Jesus' provision leads to contentment, rather than discontentment or anxiety.
- *Hope*: Jesus' provision gives us hope for the future, knowing that He will always be with us.

In conclusion, Jesus is the all-sufficient Provider, meeting our every need according to His riches in glory. May we trust in His goodness, love, and power, and experience the peace, contentment, and hope that come from relying on Him.

And it sounded like oga's own. Sename was surprised. She looked through the latch to confirm. Realizing that he was the one, she quickly opened the gate.

'I've been horning the car for some time.' The man didn't find the delay funny. 'Until I banged the gate. Why didn't you answer me on time?'

'I'm sorry, sir. I no hear. Madam say you travel.' It was unmistakable that she spoke in faltering English.

'Yes. Person wey travel no dey return? I’m back.'

He went back to his car to drive in. Sename helped him to carry his bag and some sacks of foodstuffs from the boot of his car to the house.

'Is there bread and eggs in the house?' He looked towards the kitchen.

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. Fry some eggs for me. I'll like to have fried eggs and bread.'

Nonso went to have a shower and change of clothes. For the past two days, he had been to Benin city on business. Unlike before when his trip could take weeks, he hardly travelled now, and whenever he did, he would be back within a couple of days.

He was a successful transporter who had made his mark in passengers’ transportation business. His fleet of buses was doing well. At sixty, Nonso had travailed the north, east, south and west of the terrain called Nigeria. He had four children, all grown up. The first two were in Europe while the third one was in Malaysia. The last born, twenty-two years old Hilda was studying Business Administration in a private university in Ogun state.

Nonso relaxed in the sitting room, awaiting the food being prepared by Sename. He was yet to tell his wife that he was back in Lagos. No need to do that for now, he reasoned.

'Food don ready, sir.' Her hands smelled of onions.

From his seat, he looked up and nodded. Of course, he had been had been waiting for the announcement.

He moved to the dining table. The taste of the food was as good as the aroma. Since Sename was employed, she had not disappointed in her culinary skills. Nonso ate the food with relish.

'Bring the fruit juice in the fridge here.' He always asked for juices. He would sip the drinks after the food.

As Sename cleared the table, something caught his attention. He had seen it before, but pretended not to have done so.

Surreptitiously, he had been staring at her boobs and bums. Now that he was home alone with her, he felt it would be a good opportunity to explore.

'So, you prepared this food or madam did?' He smiled at her.

It was an unnecessary question but she must answer it.

'I did, sir.' She curtsied.

He nodded his head approvingly. 'You cooked very well. Ever since you came, I've noticed that. Did you say you still want to go to school?'

'No, sir. I want to learn fashion design.'

'Oh yes, oh yes.'

He sat back on the chair relaxingly.

'See.' He tried to look sincere. 'All those things that you want are small things. They're things I can easily get for you, plus a big modern shop.'

Her face lit up in excitement. 'Thank you, sir. I go be grateful, sir.'

'Don't worry. It's a small thing.' There was smugness on his face. 'I've done things much bigger than that for people in the past. It's not a big deal, as long as you're ready to cooperate.'

The girl paused and looked at him. 'Sir?'

'I said it's a small thing, but you must cooperate.'

'I no understand, sir. What you mean by cooperate?'

'Come, let me explain.' He beckoned at her.

Keep it coming.

For how long will the government do the lockdown?

Are there no other decisive actions government can take?

Nothing Goes for Nothing







Lanre is a hardworking and diligent young man who desires an equally diligent lady for life partnership. He picks on an unusual character and has to go through a lot of travails before he could achieve his lofty desire.





Sename was washing the plates in the kitchen when her madam called her. She quickly stopped what she was doing and wiped her hands with the table cloth.

'Sename!' The voice came louder.

'Yes, ma.' Sename, without further delay, moved to the sitting room to attend to her.

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Don't forget to wash those my clothes I said you should wash.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

Madam Pauline picked up her handbag. She was ready to leave. Sename made to help her with the bag, but the madam brushed the offer off.

'Just come and lock the gate. The madam briefly looked around the sitting-room, as if trying to see that all was well. They stepped out of the sitting room. The morning sunshine was bright. Madam went to her SUV car.

'Don't also forget that no visitor or stranger must be allowed inside the compound. Do you understand?' Pauline looked at her sternly.

'Yes, ma'am.'

Sename opened the gate for the car to pass out of the compound. Then she bolted it and went back inside the house.

The madam would probably not be back until late afternoon or evening, as it had been in previous days. As for madam's oga, that one had travelled and Sename did not know when he would be back.

She went back to the kitchen to complete her task there. Sename was an eighteen years old Togolese who recently started working for madam's family. The journey of life had taken her from her village to Lome, and from Lome to Lagos. She still had the ambition to be a fashion designer but she must do this domestic job for now.

She was about to start work on the laundry when she heard hard knocks at the gate. Wondering who it could be, she went out to find out.

'Who is that?' She moved to the gate and stopped short.

'It's me.' It was a male voice. From the tone, the man was becoming impatient.

Love is not always what it seems to be.

Sometimes, love is nothing but ephemeral feelings that disappear with the passage of time.

The New Testament records approximately *37 miracles* performed by Jesus Christ. These miracles are documented in the four Gospels - Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John - and showcase Jesus' divine authority and power over nature, disease, and even death. Some notable miracles include¹ ² ³:
- *Healing Miracles*:
- Healing a man with leprosy (Matthew 8:1-4, Mark 1:40-45, Luke 5:12-15)
- Healing a paralytic (Matthew 9:1-8, Mark 2:1-12, Luke 5:17-26)
- Healing a woman with an 18-year infirmity (Luke 13:10-17)
- *Nature Miracles*:
- Turning water into wine (John 2:1-11)
- Feeding 5,000 men plus women and children (Matthew 14:13-21, Mark 6:30-44, Luke 9:10-17, John 6:1-15)
- Walking on water (Matthew 14:22-33, Mark 6:45-52, John 6:16-21)
- *Raising the Dead*:
- Raising Lazarus from the dead (John 11:1-44)
- Raising Jairus' daughter (Matthew 9:18-26, Mark 5:21-24, 35-43, Luke 8:40-42, 49-56)

These miracles demonstrate Jesus' power and authority, fulfilling Old Testament prophecies and showcasing his divinity.

Here's a song or hymn idea based on the theme "Jesus, the Protector of the Weak":

*Title:* "Shield of the Weak"

*Verse 1:*
When the world is dark and uncertain
And fears and doubts creep in
You are the One who holds me close
Jesus, my Protector, my guiding light

*Chorus:*
You are the Shield of the weak
The Guardian of those who can't defend
In Your care, I am safe and sound
Jesus, my Protector, forever around

*Verse 2:*
When the storms of life rage and roar
And I'm overwhelmed, and can't take more
You are the Calm, the Peace that's mine
Jesus, my Protector, You're always on my side

*Chorus:*
You are the Shield of the weak
The Guardian of those who can't defend
In Your care, I am safe and sound
Jesus, my Protector, forever around

*Bridge:*
You see the vulnerable, the oppressed, the weak
You hear their cries, and You come to seek
You lift them up, and set them free
Jesus, the Protector, of you and me

*Chorus:*
You are the Shield of the weak
The Guardian of those who can't defend
In Your care, I am safe and sound
Jesus, my Protector, forever around

Too bad.

Using religion as a tool to unleash terror is unacceptable.

After several minutes, she stopped. "I can't believe this. I can't believe you could go blank likethis. If we hadn't had sex yesterday, I would have said you're impotent. But, Tayo, why are youdoing this to me?"


"I'm sorry. I want to give you the best of love, not lust."


"No." She got up from the bed. I could see anger on her face. "You're only trying to humiliate me."


I pulled up and got up. "Not at all, my dear. I can assure you that you will always have my utmost respect."


She picked up her bra and wore it back.


"What are you doing, dear?" I asked.


"What does it look like?" She snapped.

Next, she wore her t-shirt and started wearing her jeans trousers.

"Don't tell me you're going," I said plaintively.


"I won't stay with someone who doesn't appreciate me."


I was appalled. "But I appreciate you! As a matter of fact, I appreciate you more than you think."


She finished dressing up, took her leather bag and her hand bag.


"Please, don't go," I pleaded. "Please, let's sort this out."


"There's nothing to sort out." She moved to the sitting-room. In over four years that I had known her, Ms. Morgan had never shown this kind of disaffection to me.


"But it's late in the night. This is to eleven."


She opened the exit door and moved to the staircase. Still only in boxers, I followed her downstairs.


"Okay, please, give me a minute. Let me go and wear clothes so that I will drive you home."


"No need."


In total dismay, I watched as she drove out. This was terrible. I never envisaged that things
would turn this way.

I returned to my flat, sadder than the previous night.



***


On Sunday morning, I lingered a bit as it was my resting day. I remained in my bedroom until about seven a.m. A message came to my WhatsApp messenger. It was from Ms. Morgan and it was quite lengthy.


Dear Tayo, you have to choose one of these options in the next 24 hours:


Option A If you chose to remain my employee, these are the benefits and expectations:


Your stake in the annual profit sharing will increase from 10 to 20%


Your present salary will be increased by 25%


You will enjoy some other perks.


You will be ready to do some other personal tasks that may be assigned to you.






Option B

Not ready to follow the requirements of Option means:


Be ready to lose the present 10% stake


Hand over the Lexus car given to you.


Resign as GM of the business by the end of this month, December.


Make your choice.

Big Aunty must be living a comfortable life. She soon came to the room and sat on the leather seat opposite me.

She studied me closely.

"Thanks for the refreshments," I said.

"You are welcome. If you don't mind, I'll like to ask some very personal questions. You may not answer if you don't want."

"Ask me any question, ma'am," I answered.

"If you must answer it at all, I want you to be sincere."

I nodded.

"The first question: how active is your sex life?"

I wasn't expecting that but I would not shy away from.

"The sex life is zero," I answered.

She clouded her face briefly. "Meaning?"

"It has been deactivated." I smiled. "For the past two years, I've been a celibate."

"Coming from a young man like you, that is difficult to believe."

“I agree, but it's the truth."

"Why did you choose that path?"

I smiled again. "Providence made and still makes me understand that sex is best between married couple only."

"Are you saying if a beautiful lady willingly offers you sex, you will decline?"

"Yes, I wil definitely decline."

She paused to consider what I had said. I could not tell whether she believed me or not.

"For how long do you want to maintain celibacy?"

My answer was prompt. "Till I marry."

"Are you asexual, homosexual, bisexual, or heterosexual?"

"Heterosexual."

She nodded. "If all your answers are true, then we have a lot in common."

"Can I ask you some questions too?"

"Why not? Go ahead."

"Aren't you planning to remarry?"

She sighed. "In truth, I've been getting suitors, but I'm not in a hurry about it. What else do I want? The houses my late husband left behind and the little business I do can support me and my children for the rest of our lives.

“have two children schooling in U.S. and one is on scholarship. So, at this stage, what do I need a husband for?"

It was a rhetorical question, so there was no need for an answer.

"All the same, whether I will marry again or not is in the hands of God."

I totally agreed with her.

"What about your fiancee? Sharon told me you have issues with her. Have you reconciled?"

I was surprised Sharon had talked to that extent.

"We have parted ways. She has declared she's no longer interested in the relationship."

"Sorry about that," Big Aunty offered.

"Thank you ma'am."

She briefly eyed my refreshment.

"Kubrat will soon finish with the pepper soup she is preparing. You like catfish pepper soup, don't you?"

"It's actually my favourite."

“Good, we're on the same page on that."

There were some minutes of silence. I watched the movie on the large screen quite absentmindedly.

Kubrat came to the sitting-room. "The pepper soup is ready, ma."

Big Aunty nodded approvingly.

"Good. Serve it in the dish and put it on the dining-table."

After Kubrat had put the dish, Big Aunty turned to me.

"Let's go and eat."

The dining-table and the ceramic dish were exquisite. But more exquisite were the delicacies.

There was a big difference between this and the one I bought in joints and eateries. Kubrat must be a good cook. "This is really delicious," I said.

After eating to my satisfaction, I returned to the sitting-room. Big Aunty brought some albums.

She sat by side to point out some people in the pictures. I could see when she was a baby, when she was in primary school, federal government girls college and the University.

She was indeed a beauty to behold. I saw the pictures of her late husband when they were in courtship and during their wedding.

There were many other pictures including during her trips overseas.

"They are all beautiful pictures," I said.

Then, I saw the pictures of her children when they were babies and when they were growing up.

The boy obviously took after his dad while the girl took after her mum.

"The is boy is Femi while the girl bears her mother's name."

I suddenly stopped to stare at Big Aunty.

"Funny enough, I don't even know your real name."

She was defensive. "Didn't Sharon tell you?" I shook my head.

"No, she didn't."

She smiled briefly. "The name is Fransisca Aresa."

I smiled too. "Beautiful name."

She went on to show me many other pictures. I was so engrossed with her I didn't know time had gone.

When it was few minutes after eight p.m., I stood up to go. "I must really thank you for the warm reception you gave to me. It is a pleasure to be with you, madam."

"The supper will soon be ready. Won't you wait to take it?" she quickly said.

Here's a song of praise for Jesus:

*Title:* "Praise to the Lamb"

*Verse 1:*
Jesus, Jesus, worthy of praise
Lamb of God, You take away our blame
By Your stripes, we're healed and made whole
We'll lift Your name, forevermore

*Chorus:*
Praise to the Lamb, who takes our sin
You are the Savior, our hearts within
We'll worship You, with all our might
Jesus, Jesus, our Lord and our light

*Verse 2:*
You are the King, who reigns on high
The One who loves us, and gives us life
In Your presence, we find our peace
Our hearts are healed, our souls release

*Chorus:*
Praise to the Lamb, who takes our sin
You are the Savior, our hearts within
We'll worship You, with all our might
Jesus, Jesus, our Lord and our light

*Bridge:*
We'll sing Your praise, forevermore
For the love You've shown us, and the price You've bore
You are the Lamb, who takes our sin
We'll follow You, until the end

*Chorus:*
Praise to the Lamb, who takes our sin
You are the Savior, our hearts within
We'll worship You, with all our might
Jesus, Jesus, our Lord and our light

Here's a song praising Jesus:

*Title:* "Worthy of Worship"

*Verse 1:*
Jesus, Your name is mighty and strong
You are the Savior, who died to save me from my wrong
On the cross, You took my sin and shame
But in Your resurrection, I am born again

*Chorus:*
You are worthy, worthy of worship
Your name is exalted, above all else
You are holy, holy, the Lamb of God
Forever and ever, I'll sing Your praise

*Verse 2:*
You are the King, who reigns on high
The One who loves me, and gives me life
In Your presence, I am free to be
A child of God, loved eternally

*Chorus:*
You are worthy, worthy of worship
Your name is exalted, above all else
You are holy, holy, the Lamb of God
Forever and ever, I'll sing Your praise

*Bridge:*
I'll lift Your name high, I'll shout Your praise
For You are worthy, of all my days
You are the One, who loves me so
Forever and ever, I'll worship You

*Chorus:*
You are worthy, worthy of worship
Your name is exalted, above all else
You are holy, holy, the Lamb of God
Forever and ever, I'll sing Your praise

'Who?' the manager asked. 'Where's the lady I brought here? Where's Wendy?'

The Manager shook his head. 'I last saw her with you.'

Joe decided to check what time of the night it was and that was when it dawned on her that his wrist watch was missing. He quickly checked his pockets.

'Oh my God!' He stood up in agitation. 'My watch, wallet, money and phones are missing!'

The other men looked at one another in perplexity, staring at Joe.

'I must have been drugged,' Joe went on, almost bawling. 'That lady must have drugged me! She has disappeared with my money and other valuables.'

'Calm down, sir,' Jimi said. 'I think we should lodge a complaint at the police station concerning this bad incident Nothing like this has never happened in this hotel, and we will not let this lie low. Sir, you know the house of the lady, right?'

What a question! Of course he, Joe, did not know where Wendy lived, but he knew where she worked. 'I know where she works. Tomorrow morning, I'm getting her arrested. I'll make sure she rots in jail! She looked so innocent I couldn't imagine she would do this to me.'

He felt his pockets again. 'Damn! That girl stripped me of the least to the highest valuable. Such a rogue and a thief!'

He yawned.

'But, are you okay, sir?' Jimi asked in concern. Joe was a valuable customer they could not afford to lose.

'I'll be okay,' Joe replied. He wore his shoes and looked about the room as if by magic, his missing items would be seen. This was not to be.

'Let me be going now,' he told them. 'If by any chance you sight her, detain her and call me immediately,' he told the manager.

Just then, he remembered that his phones had been stolen. He would have to retrieve his sim cards and lines. It would be unfortunate if this was the last time he would be seeing his expensive i-phone and the smart phone. He also had some substantial cash in his wallet.

Then, his heart beat fast. His ATM card was also there! He had some substantial sum of money saved in the account. He must go to the bank the following morning to block the account! How he wished he could lay his hands on that Wendy.

*Title:* "Unshakable Faith"

*Verse 1:*
In the midst of darkness, You are my light
When the world around me, seems to lose its sight
You are the Rock, that stands firm and strong
My faith in You, will never go wrong

*Chorus:*
You're my shelter, my hiding place
My Savior, my Redeemer, my steady pace
In Your love, I find my strength
Unshakable faith, in Your mighty name

*Verse 2:*
When fears and doubts, try to take control
I'll stand on Your promises, and let Your truth unfold
You are the One, who holds my future tight
My hope and trust, in Your loving light

*Chorus:*
You're my shelter, my hiding place
My Savior, my Redeemer, my steady pace
In Your love, I find my strength
Unshakable faith, in Your mighty name

*Bridge:*
I'll lift Your name high, I'll sing Your praise
For You are worthy, of all my days
You'll never leave me, You'll never forsake
In Your presence, my heart will sing and make

*Chorus:*
You're my shelter, my hiding place
My Savior, my Redeemer, my steady pace
In Your love, I find my strength
Unshakable faith, in Your mighty name

Her expression softened again. “Be at Magodo GRA. Number 17A. Saturday night. Come alone.”

The finality of her voice closed the moment like a book snapped shut.

I left her office with a strange sensation in my chest—like standing at the edge of a cliff, wind rushing past your ears. Excitement. Apprehension. Awe.

Down in the elevator, I stared at my reflection in the mirrored paneling. I didn’t look like someone invited to Lagos’ inner sanctum. But the envelope in my breast pocket said otherwise.

It felt like a key. A key to a world I had only written about.
The world behind the glass. Behind the power suits and polite press conferences.
A world that had rules of its own—and consequences I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

But I was going. I already knew it.

Because beneath the danger and mystique… was a story.
And stories, real stories, are hungry things.
They wait in the dark. And they pull you in.


---



The night air in Magodo was cooler than usual, tinged with the faint scent of rain that hadn’t yet fallen. The gates of 17A slid open silently after I pressed the intercom, and a black-uniformed security man waved me through with a nod.

Princess Betty’s mansion was nothing short of regal. Expansive, sleek, and drenched in understated opulence, the exterior alone made my breath hitch. But it wasn’t the marble lions or the grand chandelier visible through the front windows that caught my attention—it was the silence. No cars parked in rows. No distant hum of a crowd. Just stillness.

A maid in a blue dress greeted me at the door. “Mr. Allen? Please, this way.”

I was ushered into a living room that looked like something out of an architectural magazine. Marble floors stretched beneath our feet. Gold-accented sofas stood poised beneath soft lighting. Every corner gleamed.

“Femi.”

I turned. Princess Betty stood at the far end of the room, dressed in a deep emerald gown that shimmered like water under moonlight. Her hair was swept up elegantly, and her neck glistened with a necklace of black pearls.

“Happy birthday,” I said, handing her the small gift I brought—a vintage copy of The Collected Writings of Maya Angelou. She looked surprised, then pleased.

“You’re full of taste, Mr. Allen,” she said, accepting it with a smile that lingered just a little too long.

Then she turned. “Come, meet my family.”

I followed her past a set of tall glass doors into another section of the open-plan mansion, where two people stood near a low table set with gold-rimmed dinnerware and crystal glasses.

“This is Jolade, my daughter—my heart. And that,” she said with a fond glance, “is Daniel. Jolade’s fiancé.”

Jolade, graceful and elegant, looked like a younger version of her mother but with a softer edge. Her dress was simple, silk, her smile polite.

Daniel was tall, neatly bearded, and wore a fitted white kaftan. He greeted me with a firm handshake.

“I’ve read your interviews,” he said. “I hope you’re not here to dig dirt.”

I laughed. “Not tonight.”

Princess Betty laughed too, though her eyes never quite left me. “It’s a very private affair,” she said, as if reading my thoughts. “Just the four of us. No fanfare, no noise. Just truth.”