First Questions

The next morning, I woke up with that small argument still playing in my head. Maybe I heard wrong. New place, strange sounds, plenty imagination. I tried to push it aside and focus on settling in.

By afternoon, I decided to walk around the estate small. The place was beautiful, well-trimmed flowers, security walking up and down, and a nice clubhouse near the gate. As I dey pass one woman wey dey water her plants, she greet me with big smile.

“New here abi?” she asked. Her name na Aunty Bose, one of those estate mothers wey know everybody business.

“Yes ma. I moved in yesterday.”

“Ah, welcome my dear. You go enjoy am here. But make sure you no too keep to yourself. This estate, people dey get class, but dem get mouth too.”

I laugh small and use the chance. “I met Mr and Mrs Nwosu yesterday. They seem nice.”

Aunty Bose eye light up. “Chief Emmy? Very generous man. Him dey always donate for estate events. But him wife… hmm. Ifeoma na quiet person, but some people say she get strong head. Anyway, mind your business. This place, everybody get wetin dem dey hide.”

Her last sentence hit me. I thanked her and continued my walk, but my mind don already begin to turn. Who be this Emmy guy really?

Later that evening, the estate had a small welcome mixer for new residents. Nothing too big — just drinks, small chops, and people catching up by the poolside. I wore one simple but fine Ankara top with jeans. As I reach the place, I spot Emmy standing with two other men, laughing. He looked even more handsome under the soft lights, sleeves rolled up, wristwatch shining.

Our eyes met. He excused himself and walked over.

“Ada, right?” he said, smiling. “How are you settling in?”

“Fine. The place is peaceful. Thank you for helping with my boxes yesterday.”

“No problem at all. New faces are always welcome.” He paused, then added softly, “You look like someone who brings good energy.”

The way he said it made my cheeks feel warm. We talked small — about Lagos traffic, my PR job, and how he built his real estate company from nothing. He was smooth, intelligent, and had this calm confidence that made you want to listen. For a moment, I forgot the late-night argument.

But as we dey talk, Ifeoma appeared from nowhere. She placed her hand on his arm possessively.

“Emeka, some people are asking for you,” she said, her voice polite but her eyes on me.

Emmy nodded. “Duty calls. Enjoy the night, Ada. Let me know if you need anything.”

As they walked away, I felt small tension in the air. Ifeoma turned back once and gave me one look wey no smile at all.

The following day, I called Tolu while I was cleaning.

“Babe, the man is fine die. But something dey off. His wife dey look at me like I steal something.”

Tolu sighed on the phone. “Ada, please. You just moved in. No start investigating people like detective. Focus on your job. You know how your curiosity dey put you for trouble before.”

“I know, I know. But I fit just ask one or two questions na.”

After the call, I sat down with my laptop. Out of curiosity, I searched “Emeka Nwosu real estate” on Google. Plenty articles about his success, big projects, and church donations. But as I scroll down, I see one old photo from five years ago.

In the picture, Emmy dey stand with one different woman — not Ifeoma. They were smiling at some award event. The caption said “Emeka Nwosu and fiancée, Adanna Okeke.”

Fiancée? Not wife.

My heart beat faster. Wetin happen to Adanna? Why Ifeoma now? And why the picture don disappear from most recent searches?

I saved the photo quickly. As I dey stare at am, one message enter my phone. Unknown number.

“Welcome to the estate, Ada. Be careful what you look for. Some doors better remain closed.”

I freeze. Who send this?

To be continued…

Quick question: Have you ever received a warning message like that before? Wetin you for do? Drop your thoughts. 🔥