Morning came slowly, like a hesitant visitor. Soft golden sunlight slipped through the cream-colored curtains of the Lekki apartment, casting long shadows across the polished tiled floor. The house was quiet, unusually calm after the emotional storm of the previous night. The air still carried the faint scent of Iremide's perfume mixed with the subtle trace of incense Morounkeji had burned earlier to freshen the living room.
Oluwatobi had barely slept. He lay awake long after Iremide drifted into peaceful rest beside him, his eyes fixed on the ceiling while his mind replayed everything that had happened. The nylon bag sat inside his backpack near the edge of the bed, yet it felt heavier than anything he had ever carried before. It was no longer just a request fulfilled—it was a turning point. And he knew it.
By 6 a.m., he quietly rose from the bed without waking Iremide. He moved carefully, almost respectfully, as though afraid to disturb something sacred. After dressing, he picked up his backpack and paused for a moment, staring at Iremide's sleeping face. There was innocence there. Trust.
Love.
For a brief second, guilt tried to speak again—but ambition quickly silenced it. He stepped out of the room.
Adewale was already awake in the living room, scrolling through his phone while sipping coffee.
He looked up immediately. "You don dey go?"
Oluwatobi nodded. Adewale leaned back with a knowing smile. "Everything don set."
There was no need to say more. Both of them understood exactly what today meant. Within thirty minutes, Oluwatobi was on the road, heading toward the park where he would board a vehicle traveling to Ijebu Ode. The early Lagos traffic had not yet fully awakened, and the roads felt unusually open, as though destiny itself was clearing a path for him. Throughout the journey, he avoided opening his bag. He avoided touching it.
But he could feel it. Every mile closer to the forest made his heartbeat louder.
By noon, Oluwatobi stood once again at the entrance of the narrow forest path. Nothing had changed. The same damp earth. The same towering trees. The same eerie stillness.
He walked slowly, carefully stepping over roots and fallen leaves until he reached the clearing.
Baba Adigun sat exactly where he had been before. Still. Silent. Watching. "You have brought it," the old man said calmly without asking.
Oluwatobi nodded and placed the backpack before him. Baba Adigun opened it gently and removed the small nylon. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Did she give it willingly?" Oluwatobi remembered Iremide's tears. Her trembling voice.
Her fear. But also her choice. "Yes," he replied quietly. The old man nodded. "Good." He stood up slowly. "Follow me."
They walked deeper into the forest until they reached the hidden shrine once again. The atmosphere felt thicker than before. Clay pots surrounded a central ritual pot covered partly with red cloth and white chalk markings. Feathers, cowries, palm oil, and small calabashes were arranged in careful patterns on the ground.
The scent of herbs filled the air. Baba Adigun placed the nylon beside the ritual pot and began chanting in a low rhythmic tone. The words were ancient. Heavy. Almost vibrating through the earth itself.
Oluwatobi stood silently, unsure where to look or how to breathe. Then Baba Adigun motioned him forward. "Drop it." His hands trembled slightly as he obeyed. The moment the pad entered the pot, Baba Adigun poured a mixture of palm oil and powdered herbs over it and continued chanting.
The wind suddenly rose. Leaves rustled loudly.
The atmosphere shifted. Then Baba Adigun stopped. Silence returned instantly. He turned toward Oluwatobi. "It is done."
Oluwatobi swallowed. "That's all?" The old man's expression did not change. "That is never all."
He stepped closer. "Remember the rule."
Oluwatobi nodded. "Spend on her lavishly. Honor her. Make her happy. But never give her money to build her own wealth." A pause. "Her glory must remain tied to you." Oluwatobi nodded again. "I understand."
Back in Lagos, life continued normally. Or at least it appeared that way. For three days—nothing happened. No alerts. No miracle. No sudden change. Oluwatobi tried not to panic, but doubt slowly began creeping into his thoughts. Had he done something wrong? Had Iremide truly given it willingly? Was the ritual incomplete?
On the fourth day, he woke up later than usual.
The house was quiet. Adewale had gone out with Morounkeji. Iremide was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Oluwatobi picked up his phone lazily.
Then he froze. The Alert That Changed His Life
One email notification. An old client. A deal that had failed months ago. His heart began to race.
He opened it slowly. Then his eyes widened.
The client had completed payment. $18,000.
Oluwatobi blinked. Once. Twice. He refreshed the screen. The money was real. He stood up instantly. "Iremide!" She rushed out from the kitchen. "What happened?" He grabbed her tightly and lifted her slightly off the ground. "It worked!"
She laughed, confused. "What worked?" But he didn't answer. He simply held her tighter.
From that moment, things began changing rapidly.
Deals started closing. Old clients returned. New contacts appeared. Within two weeks, Oluwatobi's account balance transformed completely. Now both friends were rich. And life began moving faster. Much faster.
Adewale reminded him one evening while they sat together in the living room. "Remember wetin Baba talk." Oluwatobi nodded. They both understood the rule clearly. Spend on the girls. Spoil them. Honor them. But never give them capital. Never empower their independence. And they followed it.
Within weeks: Morounkeji received the latest iPhone. Iremide received a brand-new Samsung phone. Designer wigs arrived almost every weekend. Expensive handbags replaced their old ones. Spa appointments became regular. Both girls were glowing. Both girls were happy. And neither of them knew the truth.
The House Becomes Alive Because both couples lived together, the atmosphere in the house transformed completely. Music played more often.
Laughter became louder. Food became richer.
Weekends became celebrations. Movie nights turned into champagne nights. Even the way the girls walked changed. Confidence had arrived.
But so had something else. Something quiet.
Something invisible. Something watching.
Iremide Begins to Notice Changes. At first, Iremide was simply happy. But slowly, she began noticing subtle differences. Oluwatobi had become more restless. More ambitious. More distracted.
Sometimes he would stare at his phone for long periods without speaking.
Sometimes he would wake up at night and sit quietly in the living room. And sometimes—just sometimes—his eyes looked different.
Colder. Not intentionally. But noticeably.
One evening, she asked softly: "Tobi… are you okay?" He smiled. "Yes." But something in her spirit remained unsettled.
One Friday evening, Adewale gathered everyone in the living room. "I get announcement." Morounkeji smiled immediately. "What is it?" He grinned proudly. "I wan buy another car." Everyone cheered. Then he added: "And Tobi sef go soon buy him own." Oluwatobi smiled. But inside, something else stirred. Because now— Money was no longer the goal. It had become the lifestyle.