Chapter 10 Blood Has No Crown

The Owolabi estate was on lockdown.

A fleet of black SUVs lined the circular driveway like silent sentinels, their polished surfaces reflecting the grim gray sky. Guards in navy uniforms stood at attention at every entrance, their expressions hard, their earpieces crackling with static as they monitored movement from every angle. No one came in. No one left. Tension vibrated through the marble halls of the sprawling mansion like an unsung dirge.

Inside, chandeliers swayed slightly overhead, catching the sharp light of the storm that threatened beyond the estate's wrought iron fences. The estate, usually a temple of elegance and poise, now held its breath.

Then came the storm.

Tunde Owolabi.

He didn't arrive in a convoy. No sirens, no formal entry. He walked.

Rain had soaked through his white shirt, which clung to his frame as if unwilling to let go. His fists were balled at his sides, knuckles white. Each step echoed off the marble floors with a thunderous finality. The staff parted without being told to. They had never seen his face like this etched in fury, lips pressed into a line that screamed danger, eyes darker than a blackout.

He didn't knock.

He threw open the grand double doors of the private lounge.

Chief Owolabi and Lady Oyinda Owolabi sat at the far end of the room, the flicker of the television reflecting in their tea cups. CNN droned on in the background, the anchors' voices faltering under the weight of the breaking news: "Owolabi Holdings' internal dispute sparks industry panic."

But they barely blinked.

"Tunde," his mother began with forced calm, as though his arrival hadn't sent fear lurching into her chest. "You're back. We were just about to"

"Don't."

The word cracked through the room like a whip.

They froze. The tea cups rattled slightly against their saucers as the energy shifted.

Tunde stepped forward, soaked and furious.

"Where is she?"

His voice was quiet. Too quiet. It carried the weight of an approaching storm, the kind that uprooted trees and swallowed cities whole.

His father, Chief Owolabi, straightened in his chair, frowning. "If this is about that street girl again"

"That street girl," Tunde growled, "is Chizaram Okonkwo. Daughter of Chief Okonkwo. The same Chief you laughed with at Lagos Polo Club. The same man whose hand you begged for land deals in Lekki Phase 1."

Lady Oyinda paled. Her cup wobbled in her grip before she placed it down. "You're lying. That can't be true."

"I didn't believe it at first either," Tunde snapped. "But she never needed their name to be powerful. And you tried to destroy her. Because of her clothes? Her job? Because she didn't sit here and smile like your overpriced daughters-in-law?"

He paced now, running a hand through his wet hair.

"She left her parents because they made her feel like trash. And now, because of you, she left again. Because you made threats. Because you made her believe she was putting me in danger."

His voice broke slightly, just enough to pierce the room.

Chief Owolabi narrowed his eyes. "You should be thanking us. We tried to correct your path. We had a deal with the Okonkwo family. Amara was"

"I don't want Amara!" Tunde shouted. "I never did. And neither do you. You only wanted to merge two family names like a business acquisition. Not love. Not happiness. You wanted to own me. Just like you owned everything else."

A beat.

He turned slowly back toward them. His shoulders trembled not with fear, but with rage restrained.

"I am not a product to be branded and sold."

Lady Oyinda rose now, her voice panicked. "Tunde, darling, please. Sit down. You're upset. You don't mean these things."

"I've never been clearer in my life," he said coldly.

The rain outside lashed at the windows now, lightning throwing wild shadows across the room.

"I built everything I have from nothing," Tunde continued. "No inheritance. No silver spoon. Just me and that woman you tried to erase. The woman who stayed up writing code with me. Who brought me water when I worked for twenty hours straight. Who held me when the world mocked my dreams."

Chief Owolabi scoffed. "Dreams don't build empires. Alliances do."

Tunde stepped closer to the table between them. He reached for his wrist, unstrapped the custom-made platinum timepiece engraved with the Owolabi crest the very symbol of his bloodline and placed it carefully on the marble.

Then he looked into his father's eyes.

"You see this?" he asked. "This crest? This symbol? It means nothing to me now. If I don't find her if even a strand of her hair has been harmed because of your greed and pride I will walk away from Owolabi Holdings. I will erase your legacy from my life like chalk on rain-washed pavement."

Lady Oyinda gasped, handing over her heart.

"I will take everything I've built, every deal I closed, every investor I brought into the fold and I will rebuild. Under her name. And I'll make sure her name, not yours, is the one written in the history books."

His voice lowered again, calm as a blade.

"And you will live long enough to see her empire rise while yours collapses."

His parents stared at him in disbelief, their composure cracked, their power challenged in the one place they never expected: by their own blood.

"You're making a mistake," Chief Owolabi said quietly.

"No," Tunde replied. "You did. When you thought love could be bought. When you thought I could be bought."

He turned to go.

The storm outside had stilled slightly, but the silence inside was suffocating. His footsteps echoed like gunshots in the lounge, a declaration of independence.

And just before he reached the doors, he paused.

He didn't look back.

"Pray I find her," he said, voice like steel dipped in fire. "Because the next time we speak... it won't be like father and son."

The doors swung shut behind him.

And the Owolabi mansion was never the same again.