The silence in the Okafors mansion was colder than the AC itself.
No one had said a word to Gift since they left the school gates.
Not her dad, whose eyes had turned into headlines of disappointment.
Not her mum, who smiled at everyone, except her.
Even the housemaids whispered like ghosts whenever she walked by đ»
Her suspension letter still sat on the marble dining table â unopened, untouched, unwanted.
The words "Community Service" and "Counselling" kept echoing in her mind like a curse she couldn't escape.
She wanted to cry.
She wanted to explain.
But who listens to explanations when the whole school has already judged you? đ
Upstairs, her room was dim except for the soft glow from her laptop.
"3000 words," the page said at the top.
Topic: What I've Learned from Misconduct and Moral Responsibility.
She sighed.
Not because she couldn't write but because she didn't even know what she'd learned.
Was it love?
Was it regret?
Or just the truth that one mistake can make even your parents stop calling you my daughter for a while? đ
The blinking cursor felt like it was mocking her.
Her reflection in the screen looked tired, puffy eyes, cracked lips, heart confused beyond repair.
Downstairs, muffled voices.
Her parents arguing again.
Her name dropped once⊠twice⊠then silence.
The silence that said more than words ever could đ¶âđ«ïž
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Can I come in?" a boy's voice asked.
"Come in," she said quietly.
Her younger brother, Prince, slipped through the door, face full of worry.
"Mom and Dad are still quarreling downstairs," he whispered. "Seems like they'll fly you out of the country."
"I'll be fine," Gift replied with a forced smile.
"But what exactly did you do at school? I thought you don't even mingle with people?" he asked curiously.
"It's a deep story," she muttered.
"Tell me," he said, lying on her bed.
"It's not a small boy story," she replied with a smirk.
"I'm 14, I'm old enough!" he shot back.
She laughed faintly, shaking her head.
"Don't worry about me. I wasn't expelled, just disposed and punished. I'll be fine."
The door opened again.
Their mother stepped in â calm, cold, collected.
"Prince, go downstairs and eat," she ordered. "I need to talk to your sister."
Prince groaned but obeyed, leaving the room heavy again.
Her mother's heels clicked softly as she approached.
"Are you still writing your essay?" she asked, glancing at the Apple logo glowing on the laptop lid.
Then her tone hardened.
"After all we've told you, you still decided to embarrass us, nne?"
Gift looked up slowly.
"Can't I like a boy again?" she asked not with anger, but hurt.
Her mother folded her arms.
"á» ma what happened the last time you liked a boy in Texas?" she said quietly. "Do you want to turn me into a widow, eh?"
That word â Texas â burned.
Gift looked away.
She remembered.
The chaos.
The scandal.
The heartbreak.
Back then, she had trusted the wrong boy.
He betrayed her humiliated her in front of people who already hated her confidence.
And when the news spread, her father nearly lost his job because of the drama.
That was the day they left America for Nigeria.
Her mother's voice broke her trance.
"Your father and I are thinking of sending you back to Texas⊠to live with my sister, Alexandra."
Gift froze.
Aunt Alexandra???.
The woman who wore sin like perfume.
Ruthless. Unfeeling.
Someone who could trade loyalty for luxury.
Aunt Alex once told her, "Emotions are for poor people."
And she meant it.
If Gift went there, it wouldn't be a vacation.
It would be a cage; cold and golden.
Her throat tightened.
Her mother noticed, but didn't soften.
"We're still thinking about it," she said. "Now go and eat. Don't add hunger to your punishment."
"Okay, ma," Gift whispered.
The door closed.
And for a long while, Gift just sat there, staring at the blinking cursor , the one waiting for her to type the lesson she hadn't learned yet đ
--- The Alade Mansion, 9:47 p m
Rain fell hard against the glass walls, lightning flashing across the Lagos skyline âĄ
The Alade mansion stood like a silent empire; marble floors glowing under crystal chandeliers, portraits of ancestors watching from the walls.
At the head of the mahogany dining table sat Mr. Alade, founder of Alade Breweries & Exports, the man whose name opened doors across Europe and Africa.
To his right and left â the twin sons of that empire: Bayo and Tayo.
Dinner had been served, but untouched.
Fried dodo, spicy grilled fish glazed with honey-pepper sauce, smoky jollof rice cooked over charcoal đ„
And in the center, a chilled bottle of Martini Dolce 0.0 â a non-alcoholic wine gleaming under the chandelier light like irony itself.
"Bayo," his father said finally.
The calmness in his voice was scarier than a shout.
"Explain yourself. I don't talk twice."
Bayo's hand trembled as he set his fork down.
"Sir⊠it wasn't like they said. The video was edited. I didn'tâ"
"Ehn ehn?" Mr. Alade snapped. "So the whole world is lying now? Even the principal?"
"Daddy, pleaseâ" Tayo tried to speak.
"Keep quiet, Tayo!" his father thundered.
Silence.
The twins froze.
Their father's voice dropped again, low and sharp.
"Your mother is flying back from Germany because of your foolishness. Do you two even understand the name you carry? Alade! People build their businesses on our reputation!"
Bayo swallowed hard.
"Sir, I didn't mean toâ"
"You didn't mean to disgrace me? Or to prove to the world that I can't raise responsible sons? Vodka misuse for the third time!?"
The silence after that line was thick.
Even the AC hum faded out.
Finally, their father pushed his plate away.
"Eat your food. You'll need your strength. Tomorrow morning, we're going to the school â and I'll be the one doing the talking."
He stood up, adjusted his blazer, and turned to leave.
But then stopped.
Slowly, he turned back and asked,
"Who gave you the code to my private study?"
The twins froze again.
Tayo looked at Bayo, begging him not to speak.
But guilt beat courage.
Bayo's voice came out small.
"It was Uncle Tony, sirâŠ"
The room changed instantly.
The air got heavier.
Mr. Alade pressed the intercom button beside him.
"Tell Tony to meet me in the dining room."
A few minutes later, Uncle Tony, the family driver for fifteen years walked in, nervous.
"Sir, you called for me?"
"I did," said Mr. Alade. "You gave my sons my private security code?"
Tony hesitated. "Sir, they said you said I shouldâ"
"Stop."
The single word froze the air.
"Do you know what that code protects? It's not just doors, Tony. It's legacy, whatever my kids said,you should have confirmed before doing anything"
Tony's knees weakened.
"Sir, I didn't meanâ"
"You didn't think to."
And then, with the same calm that made him powerful, Mr. Alade said:
"You're dismissed. Effective immediately."
"Sir, please, I've served this familyâ"
"Enough."
The guards appeared at the door.
By the time Tony realized it was over, his world was already outside the gate.
The sound of the closing door echoed through the mansion like thunder âĄ
Mr. Alade turned to his sons, both pale and trembling.
"You've broken my trust. I hope you understand what that means."
He walked out slow, cold, final.
The boys sat there in silence, staring at the half-eaten food on the table.
Tayo exhaled shakily.
"We're finished, bro."
Bayo's jaw tightened.
"Not yet," he whispered.
Something in his tone sounded dangerous.
The chandelier flickered above them, throwing their shadows long and crooked across the floor.
Outside, the rain kept falling as if the sky itself couldn't hold back its tears đ§ïž
---Berlin, Germany đ©đȘ
A thousand miles away, a message buzzed on a glass desk inside a towering hospital office.
Dr. Morenike Alade, CEO and chief surgeon of Morenike Health Group, looked up from her meeting notes.
The subject line froze her blood:
> "URGENT: Suspension Notice â Bayo & Tayo Alade."<
The board members were still talking, but she heard nothing.
Her sons.
Her name.
Scandal.
Her fingers tightened on her pen until it snapped.
She stood up, calm but cold.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, her accent sharp and commanding.
"I'll be leaving for Nigeria first thing tomorrow. Family emergency."
Her assistant blinked. "Dr. Alade, should we cancel the surgery board meeting?"
"Yes."
"The minister's conference?"
"Yes."
"The BerlinâZurich investors' dinnerâ"
"Cancel everything except if you can handle it."
Her tone left no room for argument.
She slipped on her coat, heels clicking like a countdown clock.
Outside, Berlin's rain blurred the city lights.
> "My boys have forgotten who they are," she muttered.
"It's time I remind them."<
She walked out, phone in hand, typing a single message to her husband:
> Tell them. Their mama is coming home.<
The screen went dark.
The storm was coming and this time, it wasn't only from the sky đ©ïž