CHAPTER 36

The sun was high, casting sharp shadows across the front porch. Inside the sitting room, Mr. Mark paced restlessly. He had heard rumors. Whispers. But nothing could've prepared him for the knock on his door.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

He opened it—Mr. Benson stood there in a designer suit, flanked by two muscular bouncers dressed in black.

> "We need to talk," Mr. Benson said coldly.

Mark didn't move.

> "About what? The girl you tried to destroy? Or the 10 million you're suddenly pretending I owe?"

> "Either you return the girl to me," Benson growled, "or pay the full amount. Today."

Mark laughed bitterly.

> "You think you can walk in here and demand things? This isn't Lagos. This is my house. My daughter's been through hell because of you!"

Mr. Benson stepped forward, fury rising in his chest.

> "You're a fool, Mark. I gave you everything. I paid you once, then paid again to silence your wife. Now you act like a saint?"

> "I don't care about your money anymore," Mark snapped. "Take your threats and get out of my house."

Benson shoved him. Mark shoved back.

Suddenly, a punch flew. Then another. They were both swinging now, yelling, fists crashing into faces, furniture toppling over.

Outside, the bouncers heard the noise. One of them looked back nervously.

Inside, Benson stumbled against the wall, lip bleeding.

> "You'll regret this," he spat.

> "I already regret ever knowing you!" Mark shouted.

Then—

BANG!

A single, loud gunshot echoed through the house.

One of the bouncers had fired from outside — through the open door — without command. The bullet struck Mr. Mark square in the chest.

He collapsed instantly.

Blood pooled across the tiled floor.

Mr. Benson froze, horrified. "What the hell did you do?!"

The bouncer stepped back, lowering his gun.

> "He was going to call the police—"

> "Idiot!" Benson yelled, face pale. "I didn't tell you to shoot him!"

He rushed over to Mark's body. No breathing. No pulse.

He was gone.

Dead.

Silence.

Mr. Benson stood still for a few seconds, then clenched his jaw.

> "We're leaving. Now."

The men turned and disappeared into the waiting Mercedes benz

Within seconds, the compound was silent again.

*********

Inside Mr. Benson's Mercedes benz– Leaving Abuja, En Route to Lagos

The black Mercedes benz sped down the dusty highway, engine growling as they left the bloody scene behind. The air inside the vehicle was suffocating with silence — until Mr. Benson exploded.

> "What the hell was that?!"

He turned sharply to the bouncer in the front passenger seat — the one who pulled the trigger.

> "I told you to wait outside! Who gave you the order to shoot?!"

The bouncer stayed quiet, eyes on the road ahead. His jaw tightened, but he didn't answer.

Mr. Benson leaned forward, veins bulging.

> "You stupid bastard! Do you know what you've done?! Do you?! You've just murdered a man! In broad daylight!"

Still no answer.

> "You want us on the news again?! Police crawling all over my estate?!"

The driver glanced nervously at the rearview mirror.

The bouncer finally muttered, "He was going for his phone. I thought—"

> "You thought wrong!" Benson barked. "You always think wrong! That's why I pay you to watch, not to act."

A moment of silence passed, then Mr. Benson sank back into his seat, breathing heavily. His fists were clenched, eyes dark with fury and regret.

But then… he spoke again. Quieter. Colder.

> "Still… that bastard deserved it."

The bouncer turned slightly. "Sir?"

> "I said I won't blame you," Mr. Benson muttered, staring out the window. "He should've kept his mouth shut. Now he's out of the way."

> "And the girl?" the driver asked cautiously.

than anyone else:

> "We find her. We bring her back. I don't care how long it takes… she's mine."

The SUV drove on — into the heat, into silence, into Lagos.

But something inside Benson had snapped.

And now… he had nothing left to lose.

By now in Mr marks compound police and ambulance was surrounded news spreading like hot fire going throw the towns and Internet .

Mr. Mark's House, Shortly After the Shooting

Police cars surrounded the compound, lights flashing red and blue against the quiet neighborhood walls. Officers moved around with urgency as Mr. Mark's lifeless body was carried out of the house on a stretcher and gently loaded into the waiting ambulance.

He was covered with a white sheet.

Two officers stood outside with a married couple, visibly shaken, and another male neighbor in his early forties.

Detective Rafiu flipped open his notepad.

> Detective Rafiu: "Ma'am, you said you were inside your house when the incident occurred?"

> Witness Woman: "Yes, I was in the kitchen. My husband and I heard voices—loud arguing—coming from Mark's compound. Then we heard a loud thud... and a gunshot right after."

> Detective Rafiu: "Did you see who entered the house?"

> Witness Man (her husband): "I saw three men arrive. One of them knocked on the gate. I assumed they were business associates. They went inside, and within ten minutes, everything erupted. Then they rushed out and drove away at high speed."

> Second Male Neighbor: "I didn't see their faces clearly, but the car was a black Mercedes with Lagos plates. Heavily tinted. It looked like one of those vehicles rich people move around in."

Detective Rafiu wrote down everything carefully.

> Detective Rafiu: "You're saying it was a targeted visit. It wasn't a robbery?"

> Husband: "No. They came with a purpose. It felt personal. Angry. The man they came to see didn't walk out alive."

The detective paused, then turned to his colleague.

> "Secure this place. This isn't random. I want the neighbors watched. Check for any CCTV around. And get a copy of that visitor's book if they keep one."

As paramedics closed the ambulance doors with a final thud, the sirens wailed, echoing across the neighborhood.

Mr. Mark was gone.

The officers stood in silence for a moment.

Then the commanding officer whispered,

> "Notify homicide. This case just turned political."

>Remember no one should go into the crime scene or touch anything in there , we go a gun and some cigarettes beware .

And we need the address of Mrs Ada his wife and her daughter

One of the neighbours volunteer to give out the address.

Light fades out.