I Inherited Trillions, Now What?-Chapter 187: Real Estate Deal

"Kunle, Kunle," came a deep voice.

Kunle was standing near the edge of the living room, just beside the tall window where sunlight spilled in like golden syrup across the marble floor. He was animatedly gesturing toward the curtains—thick, luxurious drapes in a muted olive green that shimmered ever so slightly in the light.

"You see this curtain ehn," Kunle began, hands moving as though trying to shape the words he wasn't quite sure of. "This one is not the regular kind o. I don't even know the name, but it's those foreign types—imported, I think. The woman that brought it, she said it's not common at all. Something like velvet, but not really. Sha, when you touch it, it's like it responds to your hand."

Daniel leaned forward slightly, his eyes curious, even excited. "It's really nice," he said, brushing his hand lightly across the fabric. "Feels soft, but strong too."

Kunle beamed at that, clearly proud—even though, deep down, he didn't know much about the curtain or its origins. Still, it felt good to talk like this. To show someone something, to see wonder in their eyes, and to feel—if only for a moment—like he belonged in a place like this. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Then came the voice again. Louder. Familiar.

"Kunle, Kunle."

Both Kunle and Daniel turned toward the entrance. And as the shadow stepped in, Kunle's smile grew wider, warmer—lit by something deeper than just recognition.

"Mr. Gbenga!" he said, voice bright, almost boyish with joy as he stepped forward slightly.

Mr. Gbenga, the realtor.

Kunle remembered the first time they met. It had been in the lowest season of his life—the kind of time when the days stretch long and uncertain. He had just lost his job, his confidence was shattered, and even hope had started to feel like a scam.

Then came Gbenga. A middle-aged man with a square jaw, restless energy, and a voice that always sounded like it belonged to someone giving out opportunities. Gbenga was in the business of selling everything—houses, cars, phones, electronics, even designer shoes if that's what the day brought. There was hardly anything the man wouldn't find a way to sell.

When he met Kunle and saw a young man with time, energy, and no direction, he offered an idea. He gave Kunle access to photos of his listings—homes, gadgets, even the occasional foreign-used iPad—and told him to post them on all his social media platforms. If Kunle could find buyers, he'd get a small cut. No pressure. No false promises. Just a chance.

It wasn't much, not at first. Most of the buyers Kunle brought in were small—phones, maybe the odd wristwatch. But he never disappointed. And somewhere along the line, it had started to add up. Not just in earnings, but in trust.

And now—today—it seemed like all the little steps had finally led somewhere bigger.

Unlike Kunle—who had already guessed that Daniel was rich based on the flashy car he pulled up in, the iPhone that peeked from his pocket, and the calm way he carried himself—Mr. Gbenga saw something else entirely. Years of experience in the business had sharpened his eye. He could spot wealth the way a tailor spots a bad stitch.

And Daniel? He wasn't the kind of rich that shouted.

He didn't have the overconfident stance of the crypto boys who spoke in loud slang and always wore sunglasses indoors. He didn't dress like the new-money fraudsters with their oversized designer logos and glittering jewelry. No, Daniel's style was quieter—but more precise. The crisp collar of his shirt, the muted yet obviously expensive wristwatch, the sleekness of his loafers, the way he stood… grounded, relaxed, like someone who had never had to hustle a day in his life.

In Nigeria, Daniel gave off what Gbenga always called "politician child" energy. Not the ones trying too hard—but the real ones. The heirs. The ones born into houses where wealth wasn't just possessed—it was inherited.

Initially, Gbenga hadn't placed much weight on this deal. He figured it was just another "look-look" appointment—someone coming to waste his time with no intention of buying. But the moment he stepped inside and saw Daniel standing by the curtain, hands in his pocket, expression calm and observant, he felt a jolt of excitement shoot through him. Coupled with the quiet luxury of the car parked outside, Gbenga's mood shifted instantly.

His eyes lit up.

Good job, Kunle, he thought, already tasting the commission in his head. Deals like this could buy a new fridge. Maybe even a generator.

"Daniel, I want you to meet Mr. Gbenga—my ehm, boss," Kunle said proudly, pointing in his direction.

Gbenga stepped forward, all smiles, stretching out a hand. "Just call me Tunde," he said, his voice warm and practiced, like someone used to charming clients.

Daniel accepted the handshake with a polite smile. "No problem, Tunde. Nice to meet you," he said, his tone friendly but still a little reserved. Then he glanced around the room again. "This is a very beautiful house. Kunle's been showing me around."

Kunle perked up immediately, thrilled by the praise. "Yes! I was just telling him about this curtain here," he said, walking over to touch the fabric again. "The one you said you got from… ehm, Dubai."

But Gbenga gave a small, amused scoff and cut in, shaking his head gently. "It's from Egypt," he corrected, then added with a dismissive wave, "You know those traders, always calling everything imported from Dubai. This one na real Egyptian weave."

Daniel nodded thoughtfully, fingers trailing the curtain. "I thought as much. It blends perfectly with the lighting and color tone of the living room. Not too loud—just enough texture to carry the space."

Gbenga's smile deepened. He liked this boy.

"You think this is something?" he said, eyes twinkling. "Let me show you the upstairs. That's where the real magic is. The way we arranged the master bedroom—ehn! You'll see it and forget your name."

Daniel chuckled, already moving forward. "Oo, I can't wait."

"Okay, let's go," Gbenga said, motioning toward the stairs.

They had just begun walking when Gbenga suddenly stopped in his tracks, slapping his forehead in an exaggerated gesture. "Ah! How can I forget!" He turned around and looked back at Kunle, who had been trailing behind them quietly.

"Kunle my boy," he called out with a grin, "go and get our guest something he can use to calm his mouth. We can't be bad hosts, abeg." He laughed heartily as he turned back toward the staircase.

Kunle, who had been trailing behind, quickly spoke up. "Oh, I already got him something. He said he didn't want anything."

Daniel nodded in agreement. "Yes, I'm fine. Really, there's no need. Besides, I don't like sweet drinks."

Gbenga raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued. "Oh, is that so?" He turned to Kunle. "What did you buy?"

"I got that milk-based drink, but he—" Kunle began, but Gbenga interrupted sharply.

"No wonder!" he exclaimed.

He shook his head in mild disapproval before facing Daniel again. "You should have gone to Mr. Chinedu's store down the road. He has this premium drink—'Aqua Roots.' It's all-natural, no sugar, no preservatives. It's very healthy, and I think you'd actually like it. Refreshing, smooth, and not sweet at all. Just the kind of thing you'd enjoy."

Daniel looked curious. "Oh, okay. That sounds better."

"That's what I'm saying!" Gbenga said, pleased. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. Handing it to Kunle, he said, "Go and get the drink from Mr. Chinedu's. You can also pick up a few snacks while you're at it."

Then, turning back to Daniel, he added, "Maybe some meat pie, doughnuts—whatever looks good."

Kunle accepted the money eagerly and began making his way out of the house. As he stepped outside, Gbenga called out after him with a playful tone, "That boy—I keep telling him not to be stingy. You have to spend money to make money!"

Daniel chuckled as Gbenga nudged him. "Come on, let me show you the kitchen before we head upstairs."

Meanwhile, Kunle was walking briskly back toward the house, balancing the drink and snacks in his arms. Sand had gotten into his shoes, and he shook his feet in irritation. "This sand again," he muttered, brushing it off before stepping back into the house.

Looking around, he called out, "Mr. Gbenga? Daniel?"

He began walking through the rooms, still calling, "Mr. Gbenga? Daniel?" His voice echoed faintly as he checked each space.

"Mr. Gbenga?" he called again as he entered another bedroom—this one significantly larger than the rest. Not finding them there either, he paused, taking in the luxurious room.

"This house is something else," Kunle murmured, marveling at the design. His thoughts wandered.

He imagined what life would be like living here—his mother staying here and being treated like royalty, neighbors from his apartment building back home greeting him with respect. The vision of him stepping into this house every evening filled his mind.

"Money is sweet," he thought dreamily.

Just then, Kunle spotted Gbenga and Daniel returning from the backyard, still laughing and chatting. He walked toward them.

"I was looking for both of you. I've gotten the snacks," Kunle said, lifting the items.

Still chuckling, Gbenga responded mid-laugh, "Ah, Kunle, my boy! Good job. Sorry—we went to the back. I was showing Daniel the basketball court and swimming pool."

Turning to Daniel, he continued enthusiastically, "So, what do you think? Isn't this the perfect home?"

He gestured around the room. "I mean, just imagine—any lady that steps in here would fall in love immediately. And as a family home? It's got everything. Space, elegance, comfort—this is the kind of place you build legacy in."

Daniel laughed, glancing around once more. "Honestly? I like the house. I actually love it."

Gbenga and Kunle laughed with satisfaction, but Daniel's tone shifted slightly.

"It's just…" he began.

Gbenga's smile faded a little. "Just what? What's the issue?" he asked, now concerned.

Kunle, noticing the hesitation on Daniel's face, jumped in. "Wait… is it because of the area?"

Gbenga turned to Kunle, puzzled. "Area?"

"Yeah," Kunle explained. "When we were driving in earlier, he mentioned the estate wasn't fully developed. The sand, the roads… that sort of thing."

Gbenga burst into laughter. "Ah, so that's it?"

Daniel nodded. "Yes… It's just that the estate looks a bit incomplete. I was expecting something more… polished."

Gbenga smiled calmly. "There's no need to worry about that. Didn't Kunle tell you? The same developers who built VGC are behind this estate too."

"I told him already," Kunle added quickly.

"Just give it three months," Gbenga said confidently. "You won't recognize this place. And let me tell you something—though I probably shouldn't—" he lowered his voice slightly, "I work directly with the development group. The plans they have for this estate? It's going to be the next big thing. It'll be like Banana Island, but in Lekki's next frontier."

He leaned closer, voice almost conspiratorial. "Even the governor has quietly bought a house here. That's how serious this is."

Gbenga turned to face the house again, eyes gleaming with pride. "And this house—the Monarch—is one of our best. It was personally designed by one of the top architects from Europe. Every corner, every line… precision. Elegance. So don't worry about the area. Everything is falling into place."

He laughed a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, and Kunle joined in with a chuckle. "Yes, I've told you already," Kunle said, smiling at Daniel.

Daniel, who had been quietly thinking, looked at the house once more. He let his gaze sweep across the front, taking in the architecture, the clean exterior, the calmness of the surroundings. Then, closing his eyes briefly as if settling the decision in his heart, he said, "Alright. Let's get it."

Gbenga burst into laughter, clearly thrilled. "Ha! I knew you were a man of taste! Trust me—you're making the best decision. You won't regret it."

Kunle was grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. "This is the right move, Daniel. You'll love it here."

Daniel nodded, then turned to Gbenga with a calm, business-like tone. "So, how much is it?"

His eyes were mostly on Gbenga now, who paused, then rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

"Well... you know, it's not ideal to talk about money in the open like this," Gbenga said with a sheepish smile, glancing around.

Kunle quickly added, "Yes, let's go inside. You can have a drink, and we'll discuss everything properly."

But Daniel shook his head. "I'd love to, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. I just dropped by since I was in the area—needed to sort a few things at work. I'll be leaving shortly. I just want to know the price so I have a clear picture."

Gbenga let out an uneasy chuckle, then leaned in slightly and whispered, "Seven-fifty."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Sorry? I didn't catch that."

Realizing he couldn't dodge it any longer, Gbenga sighed, then said clearly, "Seven hundred and fifty million naira. That's about four hundred and seventy thousand dollars."

Daniel let out a soft "Oh," as if mentally processing the figure. Then, without missing a beat, he said, "Alright. Maybe by next week, I'll send the money over."

"Eh?" Gbenga and Kunle both exclaimed in unison, eyes wide with disbelief.

Daniel didn't even seem to notice their shock. He continued, his tone casual. "After payment, when can I get the documents and the keys? Also, I may want to change some of the furniture—I already have my own style—but not too much."

Still, no one answered.

"Hello?" Daniel looked at them, confused by the sudden silence.

In front of him, Gbenga and Kunle stood frozen, as if their brains were still catching up with what they'd just heard. Kunle finally blinked, then nudged Gbenga gently. "Mr. Gbenga?"

Gbenga snapped out of his daze. "Sorry! I—what did you say?"

Daniel repeated, more slowly this time. "I asked, once I make the payment, how soon can I receive the documents? And how long will it take before I can start moving in? Like I said, I'll probably change a few things around the house, but not much."

For a moment, Gbenga simply stared at him. The realization hit—Daniel wasn't joking. He hadn't even tried to bargain. He was actually going to buy the house.

Then, suddenly, a bright, almost childlike smile spread across Gbenga's face.

"Ah! Immediately!" he said, beaming. "If you make the payment, you can get the documents that very hour. You could move in that same day if you want! And the furniture? My brother, it's your house—do anything you want with it."

"Perfect," Daniel said with a nod. "That sounds good. I'll get back to you by next week. We should be able to finalize everything then."

He extended his hand politely. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Tunde."

Gbenga quickly stepped forward to shake his hand, nearly overdoing it. "No, no—the pleasure was all mine! Truly!"

Daniel smiled faintly as he withdrew his hand. Then he turned to Kunle. "You too, Kunle. It was good seeing you again."

"Same here," Kunle replied, still visibly stunned.

Daniel turned to leave, adding casually, "No need to walk me out. I'll just get in my car and be on my way."

With a wave, he walked off.

Gbenga and Kunle stood there, unmoving, watching him leave.

After a long moment, Gbenga exhaled, almost in disbelief. "Kunle… did that just happen?"

Kunle slowly nodded. "He didn't even negotiate."

Gbenga let out a loud, amazed laugh. "He just said 'let's get it' and dropped 750 million like he was buying bread."

Kunle laughed too, still shaking his head. "Money is good."

They stood there for another moment, still in awe, as the reality of what had just happened sank in fully.

"Bye bye!" Gbenga was practically dancing where he stood, waving both hands as if he were sending off royalty. His face lit up, electrified with excitement as he watched Daniel enter the car.

As Daniel opened the car door, Gbenga kept shaking his head in disbelief, muttering to himself, "Kunle, how did you meet this boy? Jesus! 750 million! Ahh! See money ooo. God!"

Kunle, who had momentarily zoned out, snapped back to reality at the sound of Gbenga's voice. He looked down and realized he was still holding a tray of drinks and snacks.

"Oh no!" he gasped. "The drinks and snacks—I didn't give him!"

With eyes wide and mouth slightly open, he turned and sprinted toward the car.

By the Car…

Daniel was just about to start the engine when Kunle reached the window, tapping gently on the glass.

Daniel looked over and rolled it down. "Kunle, sorry—everything alright?"

"Yes, yes," Kunle panted. "You forgot your drinks and snacks." He stretched the tray through the window.

"Oh!" Daniel smiled and took it. "Thanks, Kunle. Thanks so much."

Kunle lingered there, standing by the window, grinning like a child who had just been noticed by his favorite celebrity.

Daniel looked at him, then chuckled softly. "Uhm… is there anything I can help you with, Kunle?"

Kunle's smile flickered, and he shook his head quickly. "No no, it's fine. Safe journey, sir."

"Okay, bye then," Daniel replied, his hand going toward the window control.

"Wait! Wait!" Kunle suddenly blurted, raising his hand.

Daniel paused, surprised. "Yes?"

Kunle hesitated, his eyes darting around nervously before he blurted out, "Can… can you help me?"

Daniel blinked. "Oh?" His hand instinctively reached for his pocket.

"No no!" Kunle said quickly, waving both hands. "Not money. I'm not begging for money—I mean, I need a job."

Daniel sat back. "A job?"

Kunle nodded, eyes pleading. "Yes. Anything. I'm serious. I can work in your company—I don't mind the role. I just need something."

Daniel tilted his head. "Hmm… where did you graduate from?"

Kunle stammered, "Ehm… high school."

Daniel looked at him, considering. "Okay… but what kind of work can you do?"

"Anything!" Kunle said, hands pressed together as if in prayer. "I'm sharp, hardworking—I can be a cleaner, security man, anything at all. I'm not picky. Just help me."

Daniel nodded slowly. "Alright. No problem. Just send me your CV online, and I'll see what I can do."

Kunle lit up like Christmas. "Thank you, thank you! God bless you, sir!"

"No worries. I really have to go now," Daniel said.

"Yes yes! Sorry for disturbing," Kunle stepped back.

"It's fine. Just send your CV," Daniel repeated.

"Done! Thank you, sir!" Kunle waved enthusiastically. "Bye bye!"

A Few Days Later…

"CV?" Sandra looked at Kunle like he'd just asked her to build a rocket. "What do you want to do with a CV?"

Kunle rolled his eyes. "Are you going to help me or not? What's with all this long talk?"

Sandra's face tightened. "You're even being rude now? Are you okay?"

"Wait, wait," Kunle said suddenly, turning his head. "Is that not the landlord?"

Sandra turned to look behind. "It's him… but what's that he's throwing out?"

Kunle squinted—then gasped. "My bag!"

He screamed and bolted down the corridor.

"Hey! Hey! What are you doing?! That's my bag!" Kunle shouted, rushing toward the landlord, who was halfway through tossing a black duffel bag onto the ground.

The landlord turned, eyes blazing. "Your bag? Kunle, you haven't paid your rent in months! How long do you think I'll wait, ehn? You're wasting my time!"

Sandra had caught up, trying to calm the situation. "Please, sir. Just give him a little more time—"

"Time?" the landlord snapped. "He's had time! Three months of it!"

Kunle grabbed the bag. "Sir, please! Don't throw it away!"

The old man tugged back. "Leave it! I'm tired! Pay or vacate!"

The argument exploded into full chaos—Sandra trying to play peacemaker, Kunle begging, the landlord ranting and yanking the bag while Kunle held on with all his strength.

Amidst the shouting and pulling, Kunle's phone dinged.

Still clinging to the bag, Kunle muttered, "Who's messaging me at this time?"

He glanced down at the screen, his sweaty fingers swiping across the cracked glass.

₦2,000,000 received from Mr. Gbenga. (1,330 dollars)

Kunle froze.

His grip on the bag loosened.

He blinked once. Then again.

"Two… million?" he whispered.

Suddenly, he screamed.

"AHHHHH! AHHHHHHH!!!"

The landlord and Sandra both flinched.

"What is it?!" Sandra asked.

"AHHH! I got two million! TWO MILLION NAIRA!!!" Kunle shouted, running in circles.

"Jesus!" the landlord muttered, stepping back as Kunle hugged him tightly. "Ah! What's wrong with you?! Leave me alone!"

Kunle ignored him and twirled toward Sandra, grabbing her by the waist in excitement.

"Ahhh! I'm rich! Sandra, I'm rich!"

"Ew! Pervert! Leave me alone!" she screamed, pushing him away.

But Kunle didn't care.

He danced.

He yelled.

He jumped.

Then, holding his phone to his chest, he looked at the sky and shouted, "GOD! THANK YOU! I'M ALIVE AGAIN! Mummy Mummy" He said Running inside the house

While Kunle had tasted his first-ever real estate deal, finally having enough money to pay for his rent and his mother's medication… elsewhere, the game was changing.

A few months later, in the present day—

Inside the glass-towered Presidential Villa in Lagos Ikeja Hotel the air was cool, calculated… and silent.

"That's it, Mr. Blackwell."The voice of the First Citizen of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, President Adewale Tinubu, broke the hush, echoing across the marble-floored room as he handed a sleek black folder across the long mahogany table.

Opposite him stood a tall man draped in a sharp black Italian suit—cold, composed, and unreadable. Alexander Blackwell.

He took the folder with gloved hands, flipping it open slowly.

Tinubu, despite his graying hair and failing knees, smiled—a weary, knowing smile—as he leaned forward and said:

"It's all there. After you sign, you, Alexander Blackwell, will be the legal owner of the entire Lekki Peninsula. From Landmark Beach… to Crestwood Estate… all the way through the forest reserve area."

His voice lowered.

"Every inch… bought and paid for."

A golden pen clinked as it touched the paper. No hesitation. No emotion. Just silence… and power.

And somewhere across Lagos…

A young man, unaware of the mountain he'd moved months ago, was busy trying to fix the antenna on his mother's old television set.

Kunle.

He had no idea that the tiny deal he made back then—the one that gave him his first real taste of money, of dignity, of hope—was tied to something bigger.

Much bigger.

Something that was about to spiral beyond his control.

Deals had been signed.

Papers had been sealed.

And now… shadows were shifting.

The game was no longer about drinks, snacks, or 2 million naira.

It was about power.

Land.

And legacy.