Ades Mansion – Sunday Afternoon
Aisha arrived like a thunderstorm in designer heels.
Her red Mercedes purred to a stop at the gate, and the staff scrambled like leaves in the wind. She stepped out in a lilac lace dress, heels clicking against the marble as if announcing a royal invasion.
Remi Adebanjo smiled warmly. "My darling. You're glowing."
Tade wasn't smiling.
He stood by the staircase, arms folded, watching her with wary eyes.
"You didn't tell me you were coming today," he said.
Aisha gave a dramatic laugh. "Surprises keep relationships exciting, don't they?"
He didn't answer.
Late at night, the hallway was quiet. Everyone had retreated to their rooms.
Aisha walked barefoot into Tade's study. Her silk robe barely clung to her shoulders, hair loose like a siren in moonlight.
Tade was seated at the desk, glasses perched low, scanning a file with a furrowed brow.
She leaned on the doorframe. "You work too much."
He looked up, surprised but composed. "I don't recall sending for you."
She smiled, stepping in. "You never do. That's the problem."
Tade returned to his document. "Aisha, don't do this."
She moved behind him, resting her hands gently on his shoulders. "What am I doing?"
He removed his glasses slowly, stood, and turned to face her.
"Whatever game you're playing, end it now."
Her eyes shimmered. "I'm not a game, Tade. I'm a woman who's always been here for you. Even your mother knows it. Why are you pushing me away for her?"
"For who?
Tade's jaw clenched.
"You walk in here half naked and you say for her, did she send you to do this ?" ,he asked
He stood up quickly, turning away from her as he swallowed hard
Aisha's face crumbled, mask slipping.
"Leave, Aisha."
Silence.
He didn't wait for her to walk out—he walked away first.
And that shattered her more than any insult.
In the boardroom of Ades' Oil & Gas, the energy had changed. Tade walked in and the room rose with him.
The Ghana lease project had started bringing in international partnerships.
Local investors were knocking.
Shell Nigeria had made a quiet proposal for collaboration.
"You've turned short-run strategies into long-term wins," Bamidele muttered in private.
Tade looked out of the glass windows to the city below. "They called them crumbs. But I knew they'd rise."
His phone buzzed. Another investor from Abuja.
He smiled.
They weren't just watching anymore.
They wanted in.
Cracks in the afternoon light:
The afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky, casting long golden shadows across the marbled front steps of the Adebanjo mansion. The gates opened with a metallic sigh as Anwana stepped out of the ride-hailing taxi, her arm gently around her little boy, Victor. The child was dressed neatly in a soft cream shirt and navy blue shorts, his feet swinging slightly in his tiny sandals as he looked around with bright curiosity. The house looked like something out of a royal magazine to him—immense, grand, and intimidating.
Before Anwana could knock or ring, the door swung open. Remi Adebanjo stood at the threshold in a wine-coloured caftan, her expression unreadable. She had clearly been expecting them. Anwana held her breath.
"I came with my son," she said softly. "I couldn't find anyone to watch him this afternoon."
Remi stared at Victor for a moment, then at Anwana. "He's quiet?"
"Yes, ma'am. He's calm and well-mannered. He can stay in the kitchen with me. I just didn't want to cancel again."
Remi's gaze lingered, a slight frown on her face. Then, unexpectedly, she turned her back.
"Fine," she muttered. "You may bring him… But he better not cause a ruckus. And he stays out of my way."
Anwana blinked. "Thank you, ma'am. Thank you."
Amara's voice called from the stairs as she descended, a ponytail bouncing behind her. "Let me have him," she offered. "I'm bored anyway, and he looks like someone who would love cartoons and chin-chin."
Victor beamed, holding out his small hand. Anwana hesitated, then nodded, letting Amara guide him to the living room, where the TV flickered with colours and soft giggles filled the air.
Remi turned without a word, heels clicking back to the lounge where Aisha had been waiting. The two women sank back into their plush seats with glasses of zobo, the kind Remi liked—cold, with just a touch of lime.
"He's arriving soon," Remi murmured.
Aisha ran her fingers over her silky blouse and crossed her legs. "He's always so occupied," she said. "But at least he listens to you."
Remi gave a satisfied smile. "He's not dating anyone. Not seriously. I'm sure of it. He only needs a little push. That's where you come in."
They were still murmuring when the loud hum of a luxury SUV sliced through the late afternoon calm. Outside, Tade's black Mercedes G-Wagon rolled into the compound, sleek and powerful. The door opened slowly, and Tade stepped out, wearing a soft beige linen shirt tucked loosely into his trousers, sleeves folded just below his elbows. His tall frame towered effortlessly, every movement casual but calculated. The sun kissed his dark skin as he walked toward the front door, and as if on cue, Aisha's heels clicked quickly on the tiled stairs.
"Tade," she greeted with a soft, calculated smile, wrapping her arms briefly around him before letting go just enough to press her fingers into his forearm. "You're home."
Tade smiled lightly, "Yeah. The meeting ran long."
From the living room, Amara looked up. "Hey, cousin! Look who's hanging out with me today."
Victor sat comfortably beside her, legs swinging, eyes fixated on a cartoon.
Tade's brow lifted. "Whose child?" he asked knowing who he was jokingly,stepping further in.
"Anwana's son," Amara replied casually. "She had no one to leave him with, so your mom said it was okay."
Tade's brows lifted faintly, but before he could say more, a soft clatter drew everyone's attention.
Anwana stepped out from the dining area, holding a silver tray with glass tumblers and a jug of citrus water. Her eyes met Tade's first—she hadn't realized he'd returned—and then she saw Aisha still with her hand lingering on his shirt.
She froze. Her chest constricted.
That look… the way he smiled at her. The softness in his eyes. Her heartbeat quickened painfully. He's already into her... I'm nothing. He's moved on.
Her fingers trembled. The tray slipped slightly—glass clinking—and one cup toppled, falling to the marble floor with a sharp crash. It shattered, shards bouncing and glittering like broken ice.
The silence was sudden. Tade's head turned. Their eyes met again.
Anwana stood frozen, eyes wide, chest rising and falling. Sweat had formed along her brow, her hands shaking from the shock, embarrassment—and jealousy.
She quickly dropped to the floor. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"
Aisha stepped forward, lips pursed. "You should be more careful. Especially when your hands are near Tade."
Anwana looked up, flushed, but said nothing. She gathered the glass fragments, her fingers brushing the floor.
Tade took a step forward, but she had already disappeared back into the kitchen. Aisha turned to him.
"Who's the child?" she asked lightly, walking with him toward the living room. "He looks… oddly familiar."
Tade glanced at Victor, who was now holding a toy car Amara had given him.
"Her son," he said simply.
"He's not supposed to be here, is he?"
"She got permission," Amara said, not looking up. "Don't worry, he's not a threat."
Aisha frowned slightly, then sat beside Remi again.
Later, at lunch, the dining room buzzed softly with the clinking of cutlery and glass. Tade sat at the head of the table. Remi sat to his right, Aisha to his left. Amara was still feeding Victor snacks in the living room, but the boy's presence lingered—especially to Tade's watchful eye.
As Anwana entered the dining area again with a serving dish of egusi and pounded yam, Tade's gaze lingered on her just a second longer than necessary.
Victor peeked from the living room, holding onto the couch edge. Tade noticed.
"Come here," Tade said, smiling and stretching a hand toward him.
"No, no," Remi said quickly. "Let him stay where he is."
"I'll feed him later," Anwana added quickly, her voice a little rushed.
But Tade insisted. "It's okay. Come, champ."
Victor walked slowly, shyly, and clambered into Tade's lap. Tade held him comfortably, dishing small portions into a second plate.
"You're good with him," Aisha said with a strained smile.
"Kids like me," he shrugged, his eyes still on Victor.
But Aisha stared a little longer. Her fingers paused near her lips, her gaze going from the child to Tade, back and forth. There was something in the tilt of the boy's eyes, the way he blinked. A chill ran down her spine.
---
Evening: Truth in the Shadows
It was evening by the time dinner was over. The sun had dipped low, casting orange trails across the tall windows. Victor had dozed off on the couch, a soft blanket wrapped around him.
Anwana packed her things slowly in the kitchen—her bag, Victor's backpack, a small lunchbox he hadn't touched. She walked toward the door, balancing her weight gently to avoid waking her son.
"I'll drop you," came Tade's voice behind her.
She turned. "It's late, you should rest."
He moved past her, scooping Victor into his arms with quiet ease. "He's heavier than he looks."
They moved toward his car quietly. Behind a partially closed curtain, Aisha leaned against the wall, her heart thudding. She couldn't hear everything, but she saw enough—how gently Tade carried the child. How close he stood near the woman.
At the car, he opened the back door and laid Victor down gently, pulling the seatbelt across.
Anwana stood, arms folded, watching him. He turned toward her, his frame blocking the fading sunlight.
There was silence between them—charged, weighted. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his fingers grazing her skin.
"I still remember what your skin feels like," he murmured.
Her breath caught. His hand drifted to her waist. Their faces drew closer.
But just as their lips nearly met, Anwana flinched.
Her mind flashed back—Aisha's hand on his arm, his smiling face, the way he leaned into her like she meant something.
"Stop," she whispered. "Don't play with me."
"I'm not—"
"You were smiling at her like you used to smile at me."
Tade froze, stunned. "Who?"
She laughed bitterly. "You don't even know who I'm talking about."
She pulled back, breathing hard. "This is why I can't come back. You're already… drifting. And I can't compete."
She opened the back door, gently cradled Victor again, placed his backpack on her shoulder, and shut the car door.
"Anwana—" he called.
But she kept walking, out the gate, into the street where the st
reetlights hummed quietly.
From an upper window, Aisha watched it all—her eyes wide, her hand clutching the curtain tightly.
Tade had a past with the cook.
And that child…
Her chest rose and fell. "No way," she whispered.