Keywords: Once Upon A Forever, Prologue, Free WebNovel, Nigerian Story, Reincarnation, Doomed Love, Fated Love, David, Slice of Life.
David
David’s shoes clicked sharply against the marble floor, each step deliberate. The secretary stiffened, almost vibrating with nervous energy as he approached. She recognized him; his picture hung on the wall behind her, tagged ‘Chairman,’ right next to that of the President of Nigeria and the Governor of Lagos.
Her fingers twitched above the intercom, a half-formed call dying in her throat as Tony’s hand lifted slightly—a silent warning that froze her mid-motion.
David didn’t speak. His eyes swept the reception, noting every detail: scratches on the marble edges, a faint smudge of a fingerprint on the polished brass nameplate, the way the fluorescent lights flickered near the ceiling. Each detail harmless on its own, but together forming a report on his uncle’s negligence.
The secretary stepped back hastily, trying to appear composed, but her gaze kept darting to the portrait.
David walked past her, Tony following behind, holding a small wooden box.
The elevator doors slid open with a muted hiss. David stepped inside first, then Tony, ensuring no one came in after them. Inside, David’s gaze swept the small reflective walls, noting the subtle hum of the motor, the security camera in the corner. His eyes lingered on it, certain Mark was watching.
The elevator descended in silence.
The doors pinged open. Tony stepped out first, then David followed, before Tony fell back to walk behind him.
The door to Mark’s office loomed. David did not hesitate. He opened it and walked in.
David’s footsteps were quiet, controlled, the echo swallowed by the cavernous luxury of the office. The walls, lined with mahogany shelves heavy with legal tomes and gilded awards, seemed to lean inward.
Uncle Mark was already standing, anticipating him. His hand shot out, a forced smile plastered across his face.
“David, my boy! It’s… good to see you.”
David frowned at Mark’s hand, then allowed his gaze to sweep the room in a slow, methodical scan. Six men, broad-shouldered and silent as statues, were positioned—two near the door, one by the windows, one beside the shelves, two flanking the desk. Each looked ready to pounce.
David didn’t acknowledge the guards. He noticed the TV on the wall, showing surveillance footage of the office, including Mark’s office. His annoyance subsided before his eyes returned to his uncle, measuring the tremor in his smile, the stiffness in his shoulders, the twitch of his hand. Fear leaked through the façade.
“Sit,” Mark said, voice pitched higher than usual.
David clenched his fist, took in a slow breath, and let it out, remaining standing. He let the silence stretch, letting discomfort settle over the room like fog. His gaze flicked again to the guards.
“Six,” he said, almost to himself. Then louder, “For a conversation with your nephew?”
Mark’s hand tightened on the edge of his desk. “Security… precautions. You understand, right?”
A flicker of disgust crossed David’s face, but he held it back. “I understand. But I also understand optics. Too many guards, and everyone assumes you’re either guilty or afraid. Neither looks good for a man of your… stature.”
Mark laughed nervously, a sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “I… I suppose.” He motioned toward the chair opposite his desk. “Please, sit.”
David moved slowly, predator-like, toward his uncle’s chair, gesturing for him to move. Mark hesitated, but David’s gaze warned him. He moved aside.
David sat down. From Mark’s chair, he could see the guards, Mark, Tony, the surveillance, and the door. The guards’ eyes never left him. A bead of sweat appeared at Mark’s temple. Tony looked like he was holding back a smile.
“David…” Mark started, hands fidgeting on the desk. “We… your father, my brother, we need to discuss family matters. The trust. Your father’s wishes, my father’s—”
David leaned back, trying to appear calm even as his fist clenched tightly. His eyes were sharp, assessing, as if deciding how to deal with Mark.
“You’re rambling. It’s annoying.”
Mark’s breath caught. One guard subtly shifted, anticipating a spark, but David didn’t flinch.
David lifted his hand. Mark flinched, caught between instinct and composure.
“I… I just—” Mark started, but David’s raised brow cut through the room. Silence stretched.
Mark’s knees betrayed him with a subtle wobble.
Tony, silent as a shadow, stepped forward and placed the wooden box on the desk. David pointed at it. “Open it,” he commanded, voice carrying a subtle menace.
Mark’s hands shook as he lifted the lid, feigning steadiness. His eyes widened at the contents, and finally, all the fear he had tried to conceal flooded out.
“You promised my father you wouldn’t kill me,” Mark blurted.
Inside the box were two severed hands, pale under the office lights, fingers slightly curled as if frozen mid-motion.
David leaned back, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes, cold and calculating, never left Mark.
“You must recognize them,” he said softly, deliberate.
Mark swallowed, wetting his dry lips. “This… was necessary?” he stammered, voice tight with fear.
David’s eyes sharpened, a subtle tightening around them, like a trap snapping shut. “Was it?” His tone held no malice.
Mark’s hands twitched over the desk, a silent plea for mercy he could not voice.
“Messing with my car brakes for a mere million naira,” David said, forcing a casual tone, “he’s lucky I only took his hands.”
Mark’s eyes widened. “I—I didn’t instruct him to… tamper with the car! Yes, I paid him, but it was not for your car—he was also looking at my car, I swear—”
David cut him off with a lifted hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” His tone carried no anger, though that was all he felt. He leaned back slightly, fingers steepled, eyes pinning Mark to the floor.
“Mark,” he continued, “the only reason I allowed you your vain life is because Mr. Ashimolowo wagered my right to kill you for this inheritance—and I am a man of my word.”
He let the silence press, suffocating, before continuing. “It’s been over a year since the old man died, and I became patriarch. Even if I kill you now, I lose nothing.” His eyes glinted, cold, calculating.
Mark’s shoulders slumped. “David… I—please, it wasn’t personal…”
“I am a man of my word, Uncle Mark. I won’t kill you.”
Mark sighed, relieved.
David smiled. Noticing that his smile unsettled his uncle more than his neutral face, his eyes softened. “Don’t tempt me to make living unbearable for you.”
David stood and walked out, Tony behind him, the little gift box still sitting on Mark’s desk, doing its job.
In the car park, David stood beside the sleek black car, hands casually in his pockets. Tony moved ahead to check the vehicle.
“All clear, sir,” Tony said.
David took his place in the driver’s seat, Tony behind the wheel.
A movement at the driveway caught his attention: a black luxury Jeep with tinted windows rolled smoothly into the lot. His mother, Queen, stepped out of the driver’s seat.
Tony smirked. “Looks like Madam’s here… to do what nobody asked her to do.”
David scoffed and rolled his eyes. Tony smiled; David let out a soft chuckle.
“By the way, David, why haven’t you done anything about Mark?”
“He’s a nuisance,” David said. “But every time I suppress him, the other vultures hold back.”
David stared out the window, exhaustion finally showing.
“The mechanic’s son,” he muttered.
“I set a trust for him,” Tony said.