PROLOGUE
Abuja was already awake before the sun had completely risen.
The city carried the strange confidence of a place that knew important people lived within its boundaries. Wide roads stretched between hills and government buildings. Expensive cars moved quietly through the morning traffic. Construction sites were beginning another day of noise, dust and ambition.
At Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport, a flight from Lagos had just landed.
Among the passengers walking through the terminal was a tall, well-dressed man carrying only a small travel bag.
He was thirty-four years old.
His name was Chinedu Bernard Nwachukwu.
But almost everybody who knew him simply called him Ben.
His father called him Akumma.
His mother called him Ben.
His friends called him Ben or Aku.
And to his sister's children, he was simply—
Uncle Ben.
Ben walked through the airport without hurry.
He wore a dark shirt, fitted trousers and a simple wristwatch that cost more than many people would have guessed. He was not the kind of wealthy man who needed to announce his wealth.
He had money.
A lot of it.
But money was not what interested him that morning.
Business was.
He had come to Abuja for a series of meetings connected to one of his newest projects, and he expected to remain in the city for several days.
After collecting his luggage, he stepped outside.
The Abuja morning air was warmer than he expected.
Ben looked around.
"Okay," he murmured. "Abuja, let's do business."
He pulled out his phone.
The car he had arranged was waiting nearby.
He had not bought a personal car in Abuja yet, so he had decided to hire one for the duration of his stay.
A few minutes later, he was sitting behind the wheel.
He started the engine.
The road opened before him.
Ben adjusted the air conditioner, connected his phone to the car and called his sister.
The call rang twice.
"Hello?"
"Nkem."
There was silence for half a second.
Then his sister laughed.
"Ben! So you've finally arrived?"
"Yes."
"Where are you?"
"In the car."
"What car?"
"I hired one."
"You hired a car?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know I needed permission."
"Don't start."
Ben smiled.
"I'm coming to your house."
"You better be."
"Actually, I was thinking of getting a hotel."
"No."
Ben laughed.
"I haven't even finished the sentence."
"I know you. You're going to say you don't want to disturb us."
"I don't want to disturb you."
"You are my younger brother. Come here."
"I have meetings."
"So?"
"I'll be moving around."
"Then move around from my house."
"Nkem—"
"Ben."
He knew that tone.
His sister had won.
"Okay."
"Good."
"And please don't start giving me house rules."
"You are thirty-four years old."
"Exactly."
"Then behave like one."
Ben laughed.
"I'll see you soon."
"Drive carefully."
"I will."
The call ended.
Ben placed the phone beside him.
For the first time since landing, he smiled properly.
His sister's house was not merely somewhere to sleep.
It was family.
And no matter how successful he became, no matter how many hotels he built, no matter how many businesses he owned, there were still some places where he was not a businessman.
He was simply someone's brother.
Someone's son.
Someone's uncle.
He drove toward Nkem's home.
