Having had to listen to Wole's heartbreak story that morning, I did not think the day could get any weirder.
For context, he had been dating Lucy for a year. They both seemingly complemented each other, and it all looked good.
She flew out of the country to get married, just a month after they started dating.
If there's one thing I’ve learned about dating, it’s that it is overrated if you don’t actually intend to marry the person in question.
I managed to console him, and the call from my boss was all I needed to get out of the "situation." I am not, and have never been, a social person.
"We are flying out of the country," he said.
"I am not packed, or ready," I replied.
He went silent for about fifteen seconds, an indication that he was almost getting irritated. I’ve worked for him long enough to know that silence was the warning before the storm.
"I will make arrangements," I said, killing the silence before it stretched too far.
"Call Somto."
Somto was something else. He always knew just when and where to get whatever we needed. I liked him because he was just as weird as I am. I am not as resourceful, though.
I wish I knew how he arranged the flight to Paris so quickly, but at the same time, I did not care because my boss was… well, my boss.
I got to Paris in one of Obasanjo’s private jets—my boss liked to joke about how private the Abeokutas kept their wealth. I always had conflicting opinions, but who was I to talk?
I stayed a night in a rather cheap hotel. I wish I did not have to say that because cheap, from my viewpoint, compared to what I do know, was not where I slept… But I digress.
6:00 AM, I was dressed.
6:15 AM, I arrived at the proposed destination.
It turns out he had rented the entire complex because our guest "really likes her privacy." Nothing about this was odd to me.
The neighborhood was not it, but as always, working for him had surprised me in more ways than life itself ever could.
My boss told me he would have met up with me the previous day, but he had to "catch up with old friends."
For the sake of credibility, I always choose not to name names, but when he told me who the "friends" were, the vain part of me made my heart skip beats. That, however, is a story for another day.
The proposed destination was an auction. "In and out," he had told me just as he was about to enter the building.
The bidder was "giving out some stuff" because they were deemed eye candy.
This never made sense to me—rich people always have a way of reminding you that you are broke, will be broke, and will never compare to them.
I waited in the Audi outside for about an hour.
When they finally emerged, something felt… different.
My boss, who was usually composed, wouldn't stop fidgeting. I had seen him handle tense business deals, sit across from powerful men, and yet—this was new.
That was when I saw her.
I don’t pay attention to high-profile figures, much less anyone, but even I knew who she was. Random conversations and curiosity had led me to read about her.
An unexpected fascination—Babangida’s wife was just… indescribable.
She had a Rolex on her wrist. I wish I could describe it, but that would be a breach of privacy, as this particular watch came in a series that was never available unless by demand.
She handed my boss a suitcase.
For the first time ever, he refused to hand it over to me.
His grip on the handle was firm, knuckles whitening just slightly. I noticed, but I did not ask.
A taxi stopped in front of us within minutes. She got in, turned to him, and with a small smile, said, "Call me."
Then the taxi sped off.
We got to the airport—well, a private strip where the jet awaited.
By the next morning, we were in Lagos, Ikoyi. 4:00 AM.
My boss ordered just water. I ordered food.
He did not speak to me the entire journey—not unusual, but also… unusual.
Even after we checked into the hotel at Ikoyi, he remained silent.
I wasn’t bothered. I am not very good with questions.
But something told me that whatever was in that suitcase… was worth more than all the money I had ever seen in my life.
Money is really nobody’s mate.
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