As the gate opened slowly, the sound echoed through the compound, heavy, familiar.
That sound used to mean home.
Now… it felt like judgment.
And then it hit me.
The message I sent to the family group chat when I got the job.
“Guess who is living the life? Me, not you people. Bye suckers 😂😂.”
A dry laugh escaped my lips.
I really lived the life.
Because none of them…
not one...... 
has ever been investigated for money laundering before.
The car stopped.
A steward opened the door.
I stepped out slowly.
The air felt controlled.
Like chaos was not allowed to exist here.
“Welcome back, runaway child.”
My head snapped up.
My mom.
Elegant. Composed. Untouched.
Beside her stood my elder brother.
Benson.
Calm. Observant. Always watching.
“You sure lived the life,” my mom added.
Ah.
I knew that message would come back to disgrace me one day.
Before I could reply, she hugged me.
Tight. Warm.
Real.
My chest almost broke.
Benson joined briefly.
“I went to your apartment,” he said.
“Animals shouldn’t live there. I moved your things to your room.”
Rude… but valid 😭
“Go and greet your dad,” my mom said.
“He’s in his office.”
“I’ll be in the library if you need me,” Benson added calmly.
My mom picked up her bag.
“If you need anything, call the service department. I won’t be back today.”
She paused.
“Vacation.”
Of course.
“Switzerland. Badrutt’s Palace Hotel.”
Ah.
Money is not your problem.
She turned back one last time.
Her expression changed slightly.
“Your father isn’t angry at you…”
A pause.
“…he’s angry at that company.”
A small smile formed.
Dangerous.
“They will see his wrath. They will go down.”
Then she left.
Silence filled the house.
Heavy.
I stood there for a moment…
Then turned toward my father’s office.
I opened the door.
And stepped into power.
The room was dim but intentional.
Dark polished wood.
A massive desk that could sponsor a government project.
Crystal decanters.
Leather chairs that screamed authority.
Everything in that room had one message:
Control.
Behind the desk sat my father.
Still. Composed. Untouchable.
I froze.
Because I heard him say:
“I want that company bankrupt. Every stakeholder gone. They must not operate again.”
My breath caught.
He hung up.
Looked at me.
“If you want to live your life, don’t drag this family name with you.”
His voice was calm… but heavy.
“Olowanile is not an ordinary surname.”
I swallowed.
“Didn’t you tell them who you are? That they thought you could be used?”
Silence.
“A press conference will be arranged.”
He leaned back slightly.
“You’ll take over as Vice Chairman of Olowanile Group Holdings.”
My mind went blank.
“Your brother runs his own empire.”
A pause.
“You… you are not thinking far.”
Ah.
“So you will take over mine.”
Decision made.
“You can leave.”
Just like that.
Dismissed.
I walked out.
Numb.
The drive to the library felt longer than usual.
The doors stood tall.
Heavy. Almost intimidating.
I pushed them open.
Inside was silence.
Warm lighting.
Books stretching endlessly.
Benson sat there.
Calm. Untouched.
I dropped into a seat.
“With the way you’re holding that book, someone will think you’re romantic.”
I scoffed.
“But guess who can’t bag a woman? You.”
He didn’t react immediately.
“Look who is talking… as if you have a man.”
Rude.
I looked away.
Then asked quietly, 
“Why didn’t Yiyi help me?”
Silence.
Then he looked at me.
And everything changed.
“You really don’t remember… do you?”
My heart dropped.
“Yiyi is dead.”
Everything stopped.
“You’ve been pretending. Talking to her. Avoiding reality.”
My breathing became uneven.
“Your real phone is in your room.”
Memories rushed back.
The race.
The speed.
Her laughter.
Then.... 
The truck.
Blood.
Silence.
I stood up suddenly.
Running.
Through the halls.
Through the compound.
I got to my room.
Opened the door.
Darkness greeted me.
Heavy.
Familiar.
“No… no, no…” I whispered.
My hands were shaking as I picked up my phone.
I dialed her number.
Ringing…
Nothing.
I called again.
And again.
And again.
“Pick up… pick up, Yiyi…”
Then.... 
The call dropped.
A message appeared.
This number does not exist.
I froze.
No.
I dialed again.
Slowly. Carefully.
This number does not exist.
That was when it hit me.
Fully.
Ah.
So this is what Nigerians call…
blur blur blur-ship.
Because everything became blurry.
My sight.
My thoughts.
My world.
My legs failed me.
And I landed on the floor.
Cold tiles.
Tears falling without permission.
Reality settling in.
Yiyi is gone.
And I have been living…
like she never left.