Novels by Ayomiposi

Carlos stepped out of the SUV, his eyes fixed on the modest apartment building. The tension was palpable, a coiled spring ready to snap. Miguel and a few of their men flanked him, their movements swift and precise, well rehearsed from countless operations before. But this one— this was personal.Miguel gestured toward the entrance. "We’ve got the building surrounded. No one’s getting out without us knowing."Carlos nodded, his face a mask of steely resolve as they made their way toward the building. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of anticipation building in his chest. His heart pounded in time with his footsteps, but his expression remained calm, collected.They reached the entrance, a narrow hallway leading to Olivia’s apartment on the second floor. Carlos took a deep breath, steadying himself before he climbed the stairs, Miguel close behind. The air was thick with the humid heat of Mumbai, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, but he barely noticed. His focus wa

A Few Months Later.....Carlos sat in the largest office of the company he now owned, the enormous windows stretching from floor to ceiling behind him. The room, once a place of ridicule and frustration, had become his empire— rebuilt in his image, every piece of furniture a testament to his power. Yet, despite the luxury, the carefully curated space, and the city bustling beneath him, Carlos found no peace.His hands gripped the arms of his chair, the tension in his knuckles betraying his thoughts. From this vantage point, he could see the chaotic movement of New York, the ant like people scurrying far below, unaware of the power struggles happening so high above their heads. His eyes were on the horizon, but his mind was far away.It wasn’t the money. It wasn’t the firm. Those were easy victories— too easy, if he was honest with himself. No, the real prize had always been elusive, slipping through his fingers no matter how tightly he tried to hold on. Olivia.The name alone sent a w

A few days later....Carlos wheeled out of the elevator, a low hum from its descent fading as the elevator doors hissed shut behind him. The spacious office floor that had once been a place of ambition and humiliation now stretched out before him, utterly transformed. His eyes moved over the sleek furnishings, the modern lighting, and the polished marble floors, but his mind was far from admiring the décor. He could feel the weight of every gaze in the room, every stiffened posture. Miguel, his uncle, stood beside him, tall and brooding with an unreadable expression. Behind them, Carlos’s men – all ex-military and highly trained – flanked him, their presence a silent reminder of who Carlos had become. The former worker, the man once kicked around and demeaned, was now their new boss. The heir of the Martinez empire.The low murmur of the staff hushed the moment Carlos's wheelchair moved forward with a faint electric whirr, the entire floor falling into silence. Heads turned, faces dr

A few months later.....Carlos sat quietly in the large, beautifully landscaped garden of the Martinez family estate. The sun, golden and warm, cast long rays through the trees, painting the glass walls of the house in shimmering reflections. This estate, known as the "Glass Fortress," was hidden deep within the woods, far from prying eyes, a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. The trees around swayed gently in the breeze, the air crisp and filled with the scent of pine and freshly cut grass. Carlos wheeled himself to the edge of the garden path, close enough to admire the serene beauty but far enough to avoid being touched by the world beyond.His fingers absentmindedly traced the cool metal of the wheelchair’s arms, but his mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts of his lost children and the ex-wife who had taken them. He had moments like this often, where he would retreat into the solace of nature, trying to find some peace in the rhythm of the forest, but peace always s

The following night...Carlos sat silently at the edge of the stage, his guitar resting against his knee, watching as the last of the small crowd dispersed into the fading twilight. Andrew and Peter were packing up their instruments, exchanging a few light-hearted jokes, but Carlos wasn’t in the mood for banter. His mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t stop thinking about last night, about Miguel and everything he had said. He was torn between disbelief and a gnawing curiosity that had kept him awake most of the night.“Hey, you good?” Andrew’s voice cut through his thoughts. He was standing beside Carlos, his keyboard case slung over his shoulder. “You’ve been quiet since we finished playing.”Carlos nodded, though his thoughts were still muddled. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, avoiding Andrew’s concerned gaze. “Just thinking.”Andrew raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced but didn’t push. “Well, let us know if you need anything, man. We’re here for you.”“Thanks,” Carlos replied, his t

The following evening.....Carlos’s fingers slid over the smooth strings of his guitar, his eyes shut as he strummed the chords with practiced ease. The rhythmic notes echoed through the park, melding into the cool evening air. Andrew sat beside him, his fingers dancing on the keyboard, while Peter tapped his drumsticks lightly against the cajón, filling the space with a steady beat. A small crowd had gathered around their makeshift stage, captivated by the music, swaying gently to the melody. It was a simple life, playing for strangers who’d toss spare change into their tip jar, but it was theirs. For a few hours each day, they were free. Free from the burden of life’s harsh realities, free from the pain and memories that haunted them all.As Carlos played, his gaze drifted across the crowd, briefly landing on a familiar figure. Miguel. The man from the night before. He stood just at the edge of the gathering, his broad frame silhouetted by the streetlights, arms crossed over his ch

He sat opposite the man, a small, square café table between them. The table was bare— no food, no drinks, only the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Anthony leaned forward slightly, unsure if this was a trap or some kind of twisted game. But he was curious, his mind reeling with what the man might know.Without hesitation, Anthony broke the silence. "What do you mean when you say I’m not the only one Mr. Alkins has wronged?"The man's expression darkened, bitterness clouding his features. "Alkins is a dangerous man. You should be very careful about how you choose to deal with him. Your wife… she's not the first married woman Alkins has had an affair with. It seems… that's his thing."Anthony raised an eyebrow, a wave of disbelief washing over him. "His thing? You mean sleeping with married women? Destroying families?"The man nodded, his lips curling into a grimace. "Exactly. And he won't stop until he’s taken everything you hold dear. For him, it's just a game. But in your

'MOMENTS LATER'A sudden icy shock of freezing water splashed over Anthony, jolting him back to consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, disoriented and groggy as the harsh sunlight pierced directly into them. Instinctively, he raised an arm to shield his face, the brightness amplifying the throbbing pain in his head. As he blinked, trying to adjust to the light, he became aware of the cold, hard pavement beneath him and the uneasy faces of people standing around, peering down at him with concern. Beside him, a blue plastic bucket lay tipped over, the culprit of the wake up call.One of the onlookers crouched down to Anthony's level, extending a hand to help him sit up. "Are you alright? We found you passed out on the floor. Do you remember what happened and how you got here?" the man asked, his voice laced with concern.Anthony glanced at the man's uniform and recognized him as one of the building's security personnel. Despite the pain and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, Ant

The following morning, Anthony awoke with a dull ache in his chest, the weight of exhaustion pressing heavily on him. His head lifted from the cold surface of the dining table where he had unintentionally spent the night. Stretching his arms, he yawned deeply, wiping away the drool that had pooled at the corner of his mouth. The events of the previous day came rushing back, and he found himself momentarily disoriented, surprised that he had fallen asleep in the dining area.He picked up the empty plate and glass from his midnight meal, his movements sluggish as he made his way to the kitchen. After placing them in the cabinet where used dishes were stored, he paused for a moment, staring at nothing in particular. The kitchen, usually a place of comfort, now felt foreign to him— just like everything else in his life.When he returned to the bedroom, the tension in the air was palpable. Veronica was still asleep, her figure barely discernible under the sheets. Anthony stood by the doorw

As he stood by the doorway, his entire world came crashing down. The room, which had once been his sanctuary, now felt like a prison, suffocating him with betrayal. Veronica, startled, quickly pulled the blanket over her chest, her eyes darting around in panic. Alkins, pale with fear, scrambled to gather his clothes from the floor. The shame was palpable as he fumbled, covering his crotch with his crumpled shirt. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.For a moment, the room was frozen in time. No one moved, no one breathed. The only sound was the soft hum of the ceiling fan, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside Anthony’s chest. His eyes, once filled with love for Veronica, were now dark and hollow, brimming with a mixture of rage and despair.Alkins, sensing the danger, tried to slink past Anthony, who was still standing like a statue in the doorway. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact, and as he brushed past Anth

'LATER ON IN THE DAY'As Antony’s fingers continued to dance across the keyboard, the rhythmic tapping echoed in the otherwise silent office. The screen in front of him was filled with endless spreadsheets and documents that seemed to blur together. He glanced at his wristwatch, and his eyes widened in disbelief. "Fuck, 6:43 p.m. already?" he muttered to himself. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "And I'm not even done with half of what I'm supposed to do this week, and it's Thursday already."With a deep, weary sigh, he shook his head, resigning himself to the inevitable. There was no way he'd be able to finish everything on time without sacrificing his weekend. "I'll have to come in on Saturday and Sunday if I'm ever going to finish collating these files before the Monday deadline," he mumbled, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.He began wrapping up his work, shutting down his computer and tidying up his desk. As he stood and slung his small briefcase over

The hum of activity in the office building contrasted sharply with Antony's inner turmoil. As he moved through the gleaming tile floor, his footsteps echoed in the vast, modern space. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a cold glow, illuminating the marble walls and the impassive faces of his co-workers. Antony's ID card hung around his neck, swaying slightly as he walked, a reminder of the corporate identity he wore like a second skin. Around him, other employees, some familiar and some strangers, shuffled through their routines, barely acknowledging each other's presence.At the security checkpoint, Antony joined the single file line. The security guard, a man dressed in a navy blue combat shirt and black joggers, held the scanning device with practiced ease. When it was Antony’s turn, he spread his arms wide, allowing the guard to sweep the beeping device across his body. “Good morning,” Antony offered, his voice polite but distant.The guard nodded with a faint smile. “Morning.”