Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Williams Adejare hated mornings or rather, he hated mornings that started with his father's voice barking orders over the phone. It was a Saturday, and he had planned to sleep in, especially since he was nursing a hangover from the night before. He and his guys had hit The Monarch Lounge, one of Lagos' most exclusive clubs, and the endless rounds of whiskey and champagne were still making his head throb.

But, of course, his father had other plans.

"Williams, are you even listening to me?" Chief Adejare's deep, authoritative voice cut through the haze of sleep.

Williams groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dad, it's barely morning."

"It's past eight," his father countered. "The contractors are already at Dover Estate. Get there and make sure things are moving as they should."

Williams wanted to argue, to tell him he didn't care about the damn estate, but there was no point. His father didn't ask—he commanded. With a sigh of resignation, he dragged himself out of bed, knowing there was no escaping this duty.

He sat up in bed, running a hand over his face as the words echoed in his head. "I expect you to be at the Dover site before noon. The contractor is already there."

No good morning. No courtesy. Just business. Williams sighed and swung his legs off the bed, the cool marble floor grounding him.

Dover Estate. Another project under the Adejare Conglomerate, one of many luxury developments under his family's name. He'd only agreed to check it out because it was easier than arguing with his father. He wasn't in the mood for another 'you're not serious about the family business' lecture.

Even though he was in a rush, Williams never did 'messy.' He walked toward the bathroom, holding his head. His left temple throbbed.

"Can't be the wine… must be the noise," he murmured.

As an afterthought, he headed to the kitchen for honey tea. He wasn't the type to pop pills for every little inconvenience. After brewing his tea, he brought the cup to his lips, blowing gently to cool it. He was running late, but that didn't mean he would rush through his rituals. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he took slow sips, finishing every drop before washing the porcelain cup and returning it to its rightful place—precision in everything.

Back in his room, he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The rush of warm water against his skin was the only thing that truly woke him up.

Twenty minutes later, he emerged, a towel slung low around his waist, water dripping down his defined chest. He wasn't a bodybuilder, but years of keeping fit had sculpted his lean muscles, his abs cutting into sharp lines.

Dressing was an art, and he executed it effortlessly. He slipped into a crisp white shirt, tailored to perfection, hugging his broad shoulders. His dark navy slacks were fitted and sleek, no unnecessary creases. He clasped a Rolex Sky-Dweller around his wrist the gold, understated watch exuded luxury and power. For accessories, he opted for a thin yet noticeable gold chain peeking from beneath his open collar.

To complete the look, he reached for his shoes, a pair of black leather Tom Ford Oxford shoes, polished to a mirror shine. Every step in them was smooth, confident, deliberate.

Finally, he grabbed his cologne, Tom Ford Oud Wood. A mix of spicy, smoky, and expensive. A scent that lingered long after he left a room.

Before stepping outside, Williams paused in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting his cufflinks with practiced ease. This was his moment of assessment, his silent ritual before facing the world.

Sharp, defined jawline. Deep brown eyes that held a quiet intensity. Skin the color of polished mahogany, smooth and unblemished. At 6'3, he was impossible to ignore and he knew it. His presence carried a weight, a certain authority that made people take a second look. But today? He wasn't interested in being seen.

With one last glance, he grabbed his key card and wallet, then checked out of the hotel.

Outside, his driver had already pulled up, the Mercedes-Benz GLE 450 Coupe waiting like a beast in slumber. The matte black exterior gleamed under the morning sun, its strong yet stylish build exuding quiet dominance. The low purr of the turbocharged engine promised smooth control, yet beneath it lay the raw power to own any road. No Danfo or reckless Okada rider would dare test him.

It was his car of choice for days like this, days when he needed power and presence without unnecessary attention. He pulled open the door, greeted by the rich scent of leather laced with his signature cologne. Sliding into the driver's seat, he let the plush interior wrap around him, the cool air inside a sharp contrast to the Lagos heat. With a tap of his foot, the engine growled to life, deep and commanding.

He adjusted the rearview mirror, taking in his surroundings with a practiced glance before gripping the wheel. The car eased onto the road, gliding through the city like a predator on the prowl.

As he drove, his mind wandered.

He expected today to be another routine site visit. Just another day, another obligation. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Yet, something in his chest felt off, not quite anxiety, not quite anticipation. Just… something.

He shook the feeling off, his fingers tightening briefly around the steering wheel as he switched lanes. It was just another day.

At least, that's what he thought.