Children paused their games to stare at his car.
“Big car.”
“Who is that?”
“Is it him?”
Namdi smiled faintly.
Here, he wasn’t just a billionaire.
He was Nami.
As his car approached the large iron gate of his compound, something—or rather, someone—caught his attention.
A girl stood a few steps away from the gate.
She wasn’t dressed in anything extravagant, just a simple gown, but she carried herself with a natural grace that made everything else fade. She was waving at someone down the road, her laughter spilling freely into the air.
Then she smiled.
Not the polite, rehearsed smiles he saw in the city.
This one was real.
Bright.
Effortless.
Namdi slowed the car without thinking. His eyes stayed on her longer than they should have.
“Who is she?” he murmured.
For a brief second, she turned slightly, almost as if she felt his gaze. But she didn’t look directly at him.
He quickly looked away and drove into the compound.
But it was too late.
That smile had already followed him inside.
The compound itself was a blend of wealth and tradition. From the outside, it looked like a standard village home—large, respected, but not loud. But inside? Luxury.
Polished marble floors cooled the feet instantly. High wooden ceilings carved with traditional patterns told stories of heritage. Expensive leather sofas sat beside handcrafted stools. Modern lighting blended seamlessly with cultural art pieces.
It was a home built by a man who had seen the world but never forgot where he came from.
Namdi dropped his keys on the table and walked straight to his room.
Moments later, water ran from the shower.
He stood under it longer than necessary, letting it wash away the city—the meetings, the pressure, the noise.
When he finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel, he felt lighter. Different.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Silence.
Real silence.
No traffic. No phones ringing. No expectations.
Just peace.
But then her face appeared in his mind.
That smile again.
He frowned slightly.
“Why am I thinking about her?”
He turned to one side, then the other.
Still, she lingered.
The way she laughed.
The way she stood so freely.
The way she didn’t even notice him.
He let out a small chuckle.
“In the city, people fight to be noticed,” he said softly. “Here, she didn’t even look at me twice.”
That alone intrigued him.
Very few people ignored Namdi.
Very few.
He sat up suddenly.
“I need to see her again.”
The decision came quickly—almost too quickly—but for once, he didn’t overthink it.
He stood, opened his wardrobe, and paused.
Suits. Designer clothes. Luxury brands.
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