EPISODE 4: The Secret Heir
1076 Words
The jeep door closed behind me with a heavy thud, and for a moment the whole world went silent.
The air inside the car was cool, so cool that my body, used to the heat of the street, shivered. My hands stayed on my lap. I didn’t touch anything. I just stared through the window as the man started the engine and Lagos began to blur past.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked, my voice small.
He looked at me briefly, then back to the road. “Somewhere safe. Somewhere you can get answers.”
I frowned. “Safe? Do you think I’m a child? I don’t even know you.”
“You will,” he said. His voice was calm but there was something urgent under it. “Just trust me for a little while. I’ve been looking for you for too long to harm you now.”
His words only made me more confused.
“Why?” I asked. “Why are you looking for me? Who sent you?”
“Your father,” he said quietly.
I froze. The word hit me like a slap.
“My… my father is dead,” I whispered. “Mama said—”
“Yes,” the man said softly. “Dead. But before he died, he made sure someone would watch over you from far. That’s why I’ve been searching for you.”
I sat back, my heart pounding. “Why? Who was he?”
The man didn’t answer immediately. He kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tight. Finally, he said, “It’s not something I can tell you in two minutes on the road. You need to hear everything from the beginning, and you need to hear it from your mother too.”
“My mother doesn’t talk about him,” I said.
“That’s because it’s dangerous,” he replied. “If the wrong people find out who you are before you are ready…” He stopped, shook his head. “They will finish what they started eighteen years ago.”
His words sent cold shivers through me.
We drove past places I had only ever seen from a distance. Beautiful estates, big mansions with tall gates, streets so quiet you could hear your own breathing.
It felt like we had entered another world.
“Sir,” I said, “please, I need to know. Who are these people you are talking about? Who wants to harm me? And what did they start eighteen years ago?”
He glanced at me again, and for the first time, I saw something like pity in his eyes.
“You will know soon,” he said.
---
We finally stopped in front of a tall building that looked like it had been taken out of a movie. Glass walls, a fountain at the front, flowers neatly arranged like they were trained soldiers.
He came around, opened my door, and motioned for me to follow.
My legs felt heavy as I stepped out. I kept looking back at the gate, thinking of Mama under the bridge.
Inside, the air smelled like lemon polish and money. I wanted to rub my hand on the marble floor just to be sure it was real.
The man led me to an office, closed the door, and gestured to a chair. “Sit.”
I sat. My fingers played with each other.
He sat opposite me and placed his hands on the table. “Somto, before I tell you anything, I need you to promise me one thing: whatever I say here, you will not repeat it on the street. Not even to a friend. Only to your mother. Do you understand?”
I nodded slowly.
He leaned forward. “Your father was a king.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“A king,” he repeated. “From a royal family far from Lagos. You are his only son. Which makes you the heir.”
I laughed nervously. “Sir, do I look like a prince to you? Look at me. Look at my slippers. Look at my life. Does any of this look like royalty?”
“You look exactly like him,” the man said. “And there are people who killed him to make sure you never sit on that throne.”
My laughter died in my throat. “Killed him?”
He nodded slowly. “Your uncle betrayed him. It has taken eighteen years for us to trace you. If you are hearing this today, it means the danger is closer than ever.”
I gripped the arms of the chair. “And Mama? Is that why she has been hiding me?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “Everything she has suffered… it was to keep you alive.”
For a long time, I couldn’t speak. My whole life—every eviction, every insult, every night under the bridge—suddenly felt like it had been part of some invisible war I didn’t even know I was fighting.
“Why now?” I finally asked. “Why come for me now?”
He hesitated, then said, “Because someone else is looking for you too. And if they find you first…”
He didn’t finish.
At that moment, I realized something: my life on the streets was over, but not because things had gotten better.
It was over because a bigger storm was coming.
And I didn’t even know if I was ready to face it.
I sat there, staring at this man who knew everything about me, and I asked the only question that mattered:
“What do you want me to do?”
His answer was simple.
“Come with me. Let’s bring your mother here. It’s time she told you everything herself.”
---
Outside, as we walked back to the jeep, the sun was already setting.
I kept thinking of Mama, lying weak under that bridge, and of the strangers who wanted me dead before I was even born.
I had no idea that this journey, the one I thought was about escaping poverty, was actually taking me straight into the middle of a war.
A war for a throne that I never asked for… but that has always been mine.
And as the car door closed again, I couldn’t help but wonder:
When Mama tells me the truth, will I even recognize myself anymore?
- Writer
