NOVPUB"Take this inside, carefully—carefully, please!" Daniel Otedola stood at the edge of the sprawling driveway, one hand on his hip, the other waving toward a tall man holding an expensive speaker set. "That's a Bang & Olufsen, not a roadside stereo—handle it like you're holding a newborn."
He was in motion, a man in his element, dressed in a tailored white tee, grey joggers, and sleek white sneakers. Not a bead of sweat on his forehead, but his eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes—tracked every movement around him. This wasn't just a move-in. It was the beginning of a new chapter.
"Hey, hey—put that console down gently," he barked again, pointing at two men hauling in his Italian glass coffee table. "That costs more than your yearly salary. Respect the craft!"
Around him, movers swarmed like bees, unloading his personal effects from two branded moving trucks. A large modern sofa, a massive OLED television, crates of kitchen gadgets still in original packaging, a black upright piano, and sleek office equipment—everything screamed understated luxury.
Daniel had visited the house multiple times before today, even spent some nights there due to its proximity to his office, but this was different. This was permanent. Today, Daniel Otedola was fully moving in. The empty spaces would now echo with the rhythm of his life.
Inside, a playlist softly pulsed from a Bluetooth speaker—instrumentals, jazz, nothing too intrusive. The central AC hummed to life as workers moved across polished tiles, installing curtains, plugging in appliances, and assembling furniture under Daniel's watchful gaze.
Suddenly, over the background noise, a voice rose up.
"Mr. Otedola! Mr. Otedola!"
Daniel turned, momentarily distracted. The voice sounded distant at first, as though coming through a fog, before snapping into full clarity. One of the younger movers jogged toward him, holding something out.
"Sir—your phone," the man said, panting slightly.
Daniel blinked, taking the phone from the man's outstretched hand. "Oh. Thanks," he said, casually, already looking at the screen.
KUNLE (House): Incoming Call
Daniel frowned. Kunle? Why was he calling?
Kunle had been the one who introduced him to Crestwood Estate. A sales executive with sharp instincts and a knack for persuasion. Daniel owed his decision to buy the house to Kunle's dogged follow-up and convincing pitch months ago.
He stared at the screen a moment longer, thumb hovering over the green button to answer.
Then—
"Daniel! Daniel!"
Another voice, urgent, feminine this time.
He looked up, and immediately spotted her. Tolu. Slender, sharply dressed in a caramel-toned jumpsuit, her afro tucked under a designer headwrap, large gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Her expression was tense, almost confused.
He stepped forward, voice dropping as he spoke.
"Tolu. What happened?"
She stopped a few feet from him, exhaling, brows furrowed.
"There are… some men outside. They said they're looking for you."
He paused, phone call forgotten. "Men? Who?"
"I don't know," she replied, crossing her arms. "They didn't look like they came to install anything. One of them is wearing a green jacket. Looks… official."
Daniel's eyes narrowed. Without a word, he walked past her, heading for the front door.
As soon as Daniel stepped out, he had to admit—Tunde, the senior sales rep from Crestwood, hadn't been lying. He barely recognized the place.
The once dusty road had been replaced with smooth, tiled walkways. The curbs were now lined with clean shrubs, and tall streetlights stretched down the estate's main drive like sentinels. New homes—uniform yet elegant—dotted the estate. He could hear the faint buzz of families inside, children playing somewhere nearby. Even a mall was now open at the far end of the street, its glass façade glittering in the late afternoon sun.
He took it all in with silent pride.
I bought early, he thought. Before this place became gold.
His neighbor, an older man named Mr. Chinedu, had recently told him that houses in the estate had appreciated nearly forty percent in value. Daniel had smiled smugly then, just as he was smiling now.
The estate was perfect.
Then he saw him.
A man stood to the side, beside a dark-grey motorcycle, wearing a green windbreaker and holding a clipboard. Daniel could see a sealed brown envelope under his arm. He walked over calmly, slightly curious, slightly concerned.
As he approached, the man gave him a small nod. "Good afternoon, sir. Are you Mr. Daniel Otedola?"
"I am," Daniel replied, his voice neutral but polite.
The man confirmed something on his clipboard and nodded again. "There's a letter for you, sir."
Daniel accepted it with a murmured, "Thank you."
The man turned with a polite "Enjoy your day, sir," before heading toward his bike and driving off.
Daniel stared at the envelope, now feeling the weight of it. Tolu had come to stand near him again, arms still folded.
"What's the letter about?" she asked, voice softer now.
Daniel shook his head. "I don't know," he said honestly.
But something didn't feel right.
The envelope was heavy-duty. Thick. The kind used for serious documents.
He flipped it in his hands and then saw it.
There, printed across the body in bold red capital letters:
"LETTER OF EVICTION"
The Crestwood Estate Residents' Hall was an architectural marvel—high ceilings, recessed lighting, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the estate's newly paved roads and landscaped walkways. A circular chandelier dangled at the center, casting golden light on the high-gloss marble floor. But despite its beauty, tension was thick in the air.
Residents sat around a long, U-shaped polished mahogany table, murmuring, some pacing, others fuming. Several were holding copies of the same ominous brown envelope Daniel had received earlier.
Among them was Burna Boy—yes, the Burna Boy. The Grammy-winning Afro-fusion star, unmistakable in a black durag, designer shades, a vintage Tupac tee, and layered diamond chains that caught the light every time he shifted in his seat. He sat with arms folded, frowning, legs bouncing impatiently.
To his left was Mrs. Lani Ogunleye, a retired bank executive known for her fiery temper and love for real estate. Opposite her sat Bayo Akingbade, a tech entrepreneur who had made his fortune building payment solutions. Then there was Toke, an Instagram influencer known for her online drama, currently recording the meeting discreetly with her phone on her lap.
Daniel sat quietly at the far end of the table, sharp in a navy blue short-sleeve kaftan. He hadn't spoken yet, eyes simply scanning the room. The envelope sat untouched beside him.
At the head of the table stood Mr. Sola Banwo, the newly elected chairman of the Estate Council—a portly man in his late fifties with a neat afro, wearing a wine-colored agbada and thick glasses. Sweat beaded at his temple despite the room's cooling.
"Please, let's all maintain order," Banwo attempted, his hands raised as voices started to clash.
But he was ignored.
"This is nonsense! I just moved in three weeks ago," Bayo Akingbade barked, slamming the envelope on the table. "You can't give someone an eviction notice after they paid full price for a house. What is this?!"
"I've been here for over a year since this place was just all sand!" shouted Mrs. Ogunleye, adjusting her glasses furiously. "Paid my service charge, donated for the gate beautification, even hosted a neighborhood meeting—this is unacceptable!"
"Man, this is a scam," Burna Boy said flatly, taking off his shades to meet the chairman's eyes. "You can see I've been living here all this time, and now they want to evict me? Am I a tenant?"
People began shouting again. Toke was filming openly now.
Daniel said nothing. He was listening.
Mr. Banwo tried again, voice rising, "Please, people, calm down! I understand everyone's concern, but we must maintain decorum!"
Reluctantly, the room hushed.
"Thank you," Banwo said, catching his breath. "Now listen, I understand the panic. Believe me, I got the same letter. Yes," he said, holding up his own brown envelope. "I, too, was served."
A murmur rippled through the room.
"I assure you, we are investigating. I've been trying to reach the estate developers—Hightower Urban Limited—but…"
Daniel finally leaned forward, voice calm, cutting cleanly through the uncertainty. "With all due respect, Chairman—who exactly sent the eviction letters, if not the developers?"
A silence followed.
Banwo blinked. "The—uh—we believe it's from a third party. A legal firm. But the name on the envelope—"
"Why wasn't the council informed first?" Burna Boy asked suddenly, sitting up straighter. "Aren't we the ones paying dues and buying these overpriced houses? How can we be thrown out like squatters?"
Others murmured in agreement.
Toke chimed in. "Yeah, who approved the sale in the first place? If this is fraud, what did the council do about background checks? Some of us have mortgage agreements!"
Banwo looked overwhelmed. "I—I assure you, I am trying to get answers. The developers are not responding to emails. Calls are bouncing. I've sent official letters. We're planning to involve the Ministry of Housing—"
"Ministry ke?" someone scoffed.
Daniel hissed softly, shook his head, and stood. No one noticed—everyone was yelling again. The room was back in chaos.
He walked out quietly.
Outside – Crestwood Estate Parking Lot
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the clean pavement. Daniel's black Mercedes-Benz GLE 53 AMG shimmered in the light. Tolu stood leaning on it, arms crossed, still in her caramel-toned jumpsuit, now looking worried. 𝖓𝔬𝖛𝔭𝔲𝖇.𝔠𝔬𝖒
She straightened when she saw him approach.
"So?" she asked quickly. "What did they say? Was it a mistake?"
Daniel opened the car door slowly, sighing. "They don't know shit," he said coldly.
Tolu's brows furrowed deeper. "Wait, what? They don't know? So… what are you going to do now?"
Daniel leaned on the roof of the car, exhaled, and looked toward the estate's entrance.
"I may not know what's going on yet…" he said slowly, "…but I know how to get to the bottom of this."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and scrolled.
Tolu leaned closer. "Wait—you're calling him?"
Daniel didn't look up. "Yes. Serious."
Flashback Reveal – Why Daniel Could Afford Crestwood
There was a reason Daniel, despite only working a few months as a Senior Audit Manager at Chevron Nigeria, could afford a N700 million naira home in the heart of Lekki.
Daniel was the nephew of Alhaji Folarin Otedola, the 6th richest man in Nigeria. A legend in the banking sector. A name that made banks lean forward and politicians return calls instantly.
Phone Call – Daniel and His Uncle
The phone rang once. Twice.
Then—"Ah-ah! Daniel, my son!"
A loud, hearty voice filled the speaker.
Daniel laughed. "Good evening, sir!"
"You! So you remembered I'm alive today, abi? Since you started that job at Chevron, not even one visit to the house!"
Daniel grinned. "No vex sir. Work's been crazy."
"Work? And you're not even married! What will you now do when wife and children enter the matter?"
"Ah, it's not like that, sir. I'm planning to come next weekend."
"You better," Folarin chuckled. "Your mother said you bought a house—fine boy! You didn't even invite us for housewarming."
"I was planning to," Daniel replied. "Once I fully moved in."
"Okay, okay," the man said, the smile still in his voice. "So to what do I owe this royal call?"
Daniel's tone shifted slightly, more serious now. "Sir, sorry to bother you, but something's happened."
"Talk to me."
"I bought a house in Crestwood Estate… Lekki side. Moved in officially today. But sir—they served me an eviction letter. Along with several others."
Silence.
"Eviction? After you bought?"
"Yes sir. No one seems to know why. The estate council chairman is clueless. Some developer is unreachable."
Folarin's voice was firm now. "Don't worry. I know people in Lands & Survey, and Urban Dev. I'll find out what's happening."
"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it."
"No problem. Sit tight. I'll call you back soon."
The call ended.
Back Outside – Crestwood Parking Lot
Tolu looked up at him. "So? What did he say?"
Daniel slipped the phone back in his pocket. "He said he'll ask around."
Tolu smiled faintly. "That's good. If anyone can find out, it's him."
Daniel exhaled. "Yeah…"
"So… do we just go back to renovating while we wait?"
Daniel nodded slowly, but his eyes remained restless. Wait? The word didn't sit right with him.
He stared off for a moment, brow furrowed.
I should be doing something, he thought. What can I do?
Just then, his phone buzzed again.
KUNLE (House): Incoming Call
Daniel's eyes lit up.
Yes… him, he thought.
With renewed energy, he accepted the call.
