The car didn't leave in the morning.
Leo noticed it the moment he arrived at the garage, the black body still parked exactly where it had been the night before. Same angle. Same tinted windows. Same silence that felt louder now that daylight had exposed it.
He stopped walking.
Kunle was already there, keys jingling in his hand. He followed Leo's gaze and frowned. "Boss… that car still dey here?"
Leo nodded once. "Yes."
"You said na overnight."
"I know."
Kunle hesitated. "So… when dem go move am?"
Leo didn't answer. He unlocked the office door instead, his movements deliberate, controlled. Inside, he dropped his bag and leaned against the desk for a second longer than necessary.
The door that had locked behind him was tightening.
By noon, customers had begun to notice.
Not openly — not yet. But eyes lingered. A man asked casually if the space was reserved now. Another joked about "VIP parking."
Leo smiled. Redirected. Managed.
That was becoming his skill.
At 1:43 p.m., Musa called.
"I need you to clear the back bay," Musa said, skipping pleasantries.
Leo stiffened. "It's peak hours."
"I know."
"I can't shut down business."
"You won't," Musa replied calmly. "You'll just move it."
Move it where?
Leo didn't ask. He already knew.
"Another car is coming," Musa continued. "Just for today."
Leo's chest tightened. "You didn't say anything about—"
"I'm saying it now."
Silence stretched between them.
"Musa," Leo said carefully, "this isn't what we agreed on."
Musa chuckled softly. "This is exactly what we agreed on. You just didn't read the fine print."
There it was.
"I need boundaries," Leo said.
Musa's voice cooled. "Boundaries are luxuries, Leo. You stopped affording them the moment you took my money."
The line went dead.
Leo stared at his phone.
The words echoed louder than the machines around him.
You stopped affording them.
When the second car arrived, it came with two men.
They didn't introduce themselves. Didn't smile. One of them nodded at Leo like he was already owned.
"Move the boys," the taller one said.
Leo hesitated.
Kunle looked at him, confusion flickering across his face. "Boss?"
Leo swallowed. "Take lunch early," he told them. "I'll call you back."
They obeyed — reluctantly.
As the garage emptied, the second car rolled in, sleek and unfamiliar. The men didn't bother explaining.
They just waited.
"What's in the car?" Leo asked quietly.
The shorter man smirked. "You don't want to know."
That was the moment the line crossed.
Not because of what the car held — but because Leo realized he didn't want to know.
Because ignorance felt safer than truth.
The men left shortly after, telling him someone would return before nightfall.
Leo locked the gate behind them with shaking hands.
He spent the next hour pacing.
Every sound outside made him tense. Every passing siren made his heart race. The garage that once felt like a sanctuary now felt like a stage — and he was performing a role he hadn't auditioned for.
His phone buzzed again.
A message from Sophia.
I heard someone say you're working with powerful people now.
Leo closed his eyes.
This was what it looked like from the outside.
Power.
By evening, Kunle returned with the others. They noticed the tension immediately.
"You okay, boss?" one asked.
Leo nodded. "Yeah."
It was a lie.
That night, the return didn't come.
The black car stayed.
The second car stayed too.
Leo sat in his office long after everyone left, the dim bulb flickering overhead. His mind replayed Musa's words over and over.
Boundaries are luxuries.
At 11:18 p.m., someone knocked.
Leo froze.
Another knock. Firmer.
He stood slowly, heart pounding, and opened the door.
Musa stepped in like he belonged there.
"You look tired," Musa said, glancing around.
"This ends," Leo said immediately. "Tonight."
Musa raised an eyebrow. "Does it?"
"Yes," Leo replied, forcing steadiness into his voice. "I didn't sign up for this."
Musa walked closer, lowering his voice. "You signed up the moment you wanted more than patience could give you."
Leo clenched his fists. "Take your cars. Take your money. I'll find another way."
Musa smiled — and for the first time, it was cruel.
"You think you can walk away clean?" he asked. "Do you know how this works?"
Leo's throat tightened.
Musa leaned in. "You've already crossed the line. The only question now is how far."
Silence pressed in.
Outside, a siren wailed in the distance.
Leo thought of his mother's voice, telling him that shortcuts always demand payment. He thought of the garage when it was small and honest and his.
He thought of who he was becoming.
"I won't do this anymore," Leo said.
Musa studied him for a long moment.
Then he laughed.
"You're braver than I thought," he said. "Or dumber."
He turned toward the door. "Sleep well, Leo. Tomorrow, we'll see which one it is."
When Musa left, the garage felt colder.
Leo locked the door, slid down against it, and buried his face in his hands.
This wasn't ambition anymore.
It was survival.
And survival had a price.