Chapter 7 Return of the Storm

Tunde's jet touched down at Murtala Muhammed International Airport beneath a gray, rumbling sky. The Lagos heat pressed heavy against his skin, but it was nothing compared to the unease settling deep in his chest.

His assistant had mentioned strange things over the phone plans being made behind his back, the Okonkwo family visiting frequently, whispers of an engagement. But Tunde had brushed it aside, too focused on finalizing the Singapore deal.

Now, he wished he had listened more closely.

He didn't go to his family estate first. He went straight to see Chizaram.

She opened the door of the modest Lekki residence in her simple nightwear, hair messy from a nap, eyes wide as they fell on him.

"Tunde," she whispered, joy bursting in her voice.

He gathered her in his arms without a word, held her like the world was burning behind him.

"I missed you," she breathed.

"I missed you more than you'll ever know."

They didn't talk about the world or the weight pressing down outside. Not yet. For now, they just breathed together.

But peace is a fragile thing. Especially when love stands in the way of power.

Later that evening, Tunde arrived at the Owolabi estate.

He stepped into a living room dripping in excess gold trimmings, extravagant floral arrangements, and a massive banner that made him stop in his tracks:

"Congratulations to the Future Mr. & Mrs. Owolabi!"

His brows furrowed. "What the hell...?"

Then his mother swept in, grinning ear to ear.

"There you are! Just in time, son. The celebration is almost ready! We're announcing your engagement tonight."

"Engagement?" he repeated, cold.

Before Lady Owolabi could answer, Amara descended the stairs in flowing white lace, hair styled in soft curls, eyes lit with delusion and victory.

"Finally," she purred. "I can't wait to be Mrs. Owolabi."

Tunde's gaze hardened. "What is going on?"

Lady Owolabi approached with her usual controlling grace. "Tunde, darling, everything's already arranged. We're tying our legacy with the Okonkwo family. Amara is the perfect match. She's elegant, educated, refined"

"She's also not the woman I love," he cut in flatly.

Chief Owolabi entered, adjusting his agbada, voice thunderous. "Enough! You've embarrassed us long enough with that gutter girl. Now, you will do what is expected."

Amara's eyes glittered, her smile triumphant. "It's for the best, Tunde. Your parents know what's right. I'll make a wonderful wife."

Then

Tunde took a step forward, jaw clenched. "Let me ask you something, Amara."

She tilted her head.

"When I got down on one knee in your father's mansion... when I wore slippers and offered suya and a silver ring... do you remember laughing?"

Her smile faltered.

"What...what are you talking about?"

He didn't flinch. "You spat at me. Called me a cleaner. Said your sister was a disgrace for dating a nobody."

The room froze.

Amara's jaw dropped as her gaze slowly shifted.

Chizaram?" she whispered.

Tunde's voice was ice. "Yes. That girl you mocked, insulted, humiliated? That's my wife."

The color drained from Amara's face as the truth struck her like lightning.

Her knees weakened. "You... You're him? You're the cleaner?"

"No," he said. "I'm Tunde Owolabi. CEO. Billionaire. And the man who chose your sister over every piece of gold in this house."

Amara's body swayed. "No... no, no. It can't be."

Lady Owolabi stepped forward, furious. "Tunde, you will stop this madness! That thing is not your wife. She is filth!"

Chief Owolabi raised his voice. "We forbid this! You will marry Amara and end this childish rebellion"

Tunde's voice exploded: "She. Is. My. Wife."

Silence thundered across the room.

"You will talk about her with respect," he continued, pointing a trembling hand at his father. "If anything happens to her, Dad... if I so much as hear that you've tried to touch a hair on her head... you won't recognize your son again."

"You dare threaten your own blood?" Chief Owolabi barked.

"I'm not threatening," Tunde said darkly. "I'm making a promise."

Amara stood frozen, still shaking. Her mouth quivered as she whispered to herself, "It was him. All along. The man in slippers... was Tunde Owolabi..."

He turned to leave without another word.

As he stepped outside, his phone was already in his hand. "Double her security," he told his head of protection. "No one gets near Chizaram. Not even family."

Because the war had begun.

And this time, love wouldn't back down quietly.