A Party to Remember
The tension in the air was thick as I stood before my mother, my fingers twitching with impatience. "Please, Mom," I begged, my voice laced with desperation. "Just give me the money. I promise I'll make good use of it."
She turned to face me, her sharp eyes boring into mine. A slow, skeptical exhale escaped her lips. "Hmph. Make good use of it?" she repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "More like waste it on some stupid party and your so-called friends."
A surge of anger burned through me, hot and immediate. My jaw clenched, but I refused to let another word slip. There was no point arguing with her when she had already made up her mind. Without another word, I spun on my heel and stormed out of the room, making sure to slam the door behind me with enough force to rattle the walls.
The echo of the slam followed me down the hall as I marched straight to my room. Once inside, I repeated the violent gesture—another loud bang as my door crashed shut. I collapsed onto my bed, my mind racing. Then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit me.
My savings.
I had been stashing money away ever since I was a child—birthday gifts, holiday cash, random allowances I never spent. Without hesitation, I grabbed my phone and began checking every single account, every investment, every digital wallet I had ever touched.
And then—there it was.
10 million naira.
A slow, proud grin spread across my face. I had done this. Me. All those years of discipline had finally paid off. But just as quickly as the pride came, it faded.
It wasn't enough.
Not even close.
I needed more.
So, I did the only thing I could think of—I called in favors. My fingers flew across my screen as I dialed up my wealthiest friends, the ones whose families swam in money.
"Hey," I said, my voice smooth, practiced. "I need a favor. Can you lend me 15 million? I'll pay you back in six months."
To my surprise, they agreed.
Five minutes later, my phone buzzed—a credit alert. The money had landed in my account.
Now, I had 25 million naira in my hands.
But I still wasn't satisfied.
I scoured every app, every investment platform, every digital nook and cranny where I might have stashed even a little more cash. But nothing. Empty. All of them.
Defeat gnawed at me, but I refused to give up.
There was only one option left.
I had to go back to Mom.
Swallowing my pride, I pushed myself off the bed and marched back to her room. This time, when I knocked, she actually let me in.
The room was different now—cleaner, more organized. She was lying on her bed, scrolling through her phone, barely acknowledging me as I entered. I grabbed the nearest chair and sat down, my fingers fidgeting in my lap.
"Mom," I started, my voice softer now, laced with fake remorse. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. Please forgive me."
She glanced up, her eyes narrowing. Then, with a dismissive hiss, she turned away. "David, I can't just hand you a fortune so you can throw some flashy party. That's not what your father worked for."
I nodded, playing the obedient son. "You're right, Mom. You're absolutely right. But… if you can't give me the full 30 million, could you at least give me 5 million? Please?"
She exhaled sharply, her shoulders sagging in resignation. "Fine," she muttered. "But listen to me—no drugs, no alcohol, no strippers, and definitely no sex. You're too damn young for any of that nonsense."
I nodded eagerly. "I understand, Mom. I promise, none of that will happen."
She fixed me with a hard stare. "David, I mean it. I don't want the police involved. I don't need them sniffing around because of some stupid teenage mistake."
"Of course, Mom," I said, standing up and pulling her into a hug. A false promise dripped from my lips, one I had already decided to break.
The moment I stepped out of her room, my phone buzzed again.
Credit Alert: 5,000,000 Naira.
A wicked grin spread across my face.
Now, I had 30 million naira.
The party was on.
The Preparation
Without wasting a second, I changed into something more stylish and snatched the keys to one of my father's cars. The mansion had at least ten luxury vehicles, each one more expensive than the last.
I chose the blue and black Bugatti Chiron.
The engine roared to life as I sped toward the biggest mall in the city. I needed everything—decorations, food, drinks, lights, snacks—everything.
I went all out.
And when I was done, I named the event:
#APartyToRemember
I posted it online, and within minutes, it went viral.
The shopping bags piled up, the cart overflowing with supplies. There was so much that I had the mall arrange for delivery.
But there was one problem—the alcohol.
Mom could not see it.
So, I made sure the mall staff hid the bottles carefully, disguising them among the other packages.
When the delivery truck arrived later that evening, I bolted outside, waving my arms frantically to stop them from pulling into the compound.
"Park outside the fence!" I ordered. "Make sure my mom doesn't see anything!"
A few workers helped me sneak everything inside, especially the drinks. I had them stash all the alcohol in the fridge—cold and ready for the big night.
The Final Touches
Three days before the party, Mom finally left for a hotel lounge, giving me the perfect window.
Two days before, I made another call—this time, for stripper's.
Another broken promise.
They arrived a day before the event, slipping into the mansion unnoticed.
And then—just when I thought I was in the clear—Mom called.
"David," she said, her voice firm. "A party isn't complete without security. I've hired 50 bodyguards for you. They'll make sure everything stays under control."
My stomach dropped.
Fifty bodyguards?!
But I couldn't refuse.
So, I drafted a security plan.
The mansion had three entrances:
Point A: The back entrance—strictly for family and VIPs. I stationed 10 guards there.
Point B: The side entrance—reserved for special guests. 15 guards covered this area.
Point C: The main gate—only invited friends and classmates allowed. The remaining 25 guards stood watch here.
With everything set, all that was left was to wait.
Exhausted, I collapsed onto my bed. I hadn't slept in days, too busy making sure this party would be legendary.
And it would be.
Because this wasn't just any party.
This was #APartyToRemember.
And I was ready to make sure no one ever forgot it.
To be continued.