A storm gathered above the estate, the sky dark with brooding clouds that pressed low over the red-tiled rooftops. The first rumble of thunder echoed through the halls just as the finalists were summoned to the drawing room.
No one spoke as they entered. No one dared to ask why.
The ornate room had been rearranged chairs in a semicircle, a heavy wooden table at the center, and a long black envelope resting on top like a judge's gavel.
Titi and Joy sat side by side. Cynthia's fingers twitched nervously in her lap. Farouk offered her a small, grounding glance. Remi crossed his legs tightly. Chika and Idowu flanked him like guards. Baba Kareem leaned quietly on his cane, eyes half-closed, sensing the shift in the air.
The door creaked open. Kenny Iroko entered, followed by Mrs. Adisa and the estate's lead psychologist, Mrs. Eze. No one from the household sat today. Not even Mama Iroko.
It was time for judgment.
The Room Holds Its Breath
Kenny didn't speak immediately. Instead, he walked slowly past each candidate, his presence both casual and calculating. He wasn't just looking at them he was reading them.
"You've all made it further than hundreds of applicants," he finally said, voice smooth but edged. "You've shown us what you're capable of in crisis, in silence, and in companionship."
He stopped near the table and placed a hand on the envelope.
"But this is not a game of sympathy. It's a game of loyalty. And loyalty requires clarity."
His eyes moved to the black envelope.
"One of you will be leaving the estate tonight."
A collective breath was held. The storm outside cracked.
The Letter
Mrs. Adisa stepped forward and opened the envelope with careful precision. She pulled out a cream-colored letter handwritten in elegant script.
"It is Mama Iroko's wish that this letter be read aloud," she said.
She began.
To my children of care,
This week, I've eaten with each of you. I've heard your hearts not your résumés, not your ambitions, but your truths.
Some of you speak loudly. Some walk gently. Some are still learning how to be seen. And some, I fear, are here for the wrong reasons.
Tonight, I must choose who is not yet ready to stay.
It breaks my heart to do so but in loyalty, there must be pruning.
Cynthia…
A gasp.
…you have a softness that reminds me of myself long ago. But this path will break you if you don't first break free from your fear. You will be a light one day but not here. Not now.
Your journey continues elsewhere, and we will support you beyond these walls.
Cynthia's hands covered her mouth. Tears brimmed instantly. For a moment, no one moved.
Then Joy reached out and took her hand. Titi followed.
"You gave everything," Joy whispered. "You were brave."
Even Chika's cold demeanor softened slightly.
Cynthia stood, her breath shaking. "Thank you… thank you, Mama."
Outside the Estate
As Cynthia's bags were packed quietly by a staff assistant, she walked through the quiet halls once more, her footsteps echoing softer than they had days before.
Farouk met her at the door with a small note.
"You were never too fragile. You were simply first to bloom."
She smiled through her tears and slipped away into the night, into the rain that had finally started to fall.
The Remaining Seven
Back in the drawing room, the mood had changed. The competition no longer felt theoretical.
Someone had gone.
It was real now.
Kenny turned to the seven remaining.
"There will be more nights like this. Some harder. Some closer than comfort allows."
He tapped the envelope with a single finger.
"And the rules may change."
He left them with that.
Fractures and Quiet Furies
Later that evening, emotions spilled in corners.
Chika sat stiffly, watching Joy and Titi with renewed suspicion.
"She nearly cried herself out of here," she muttered. "And they're still holding her hand like it's Sunday mass."
Remi sipped his tea. "She was weak. This game isn't for the tender-hearted."
Idowu grunted. "It was her time. That's all."
But Farouk disagreed quietly. "It wasn't weakness. It was timing. We all have our hour."
Joy and Titi sat together by the fireplace, a candle flickering between them.
"I hate this part," Joy whispered.
Titi nodded. "But if it had been me… I'd want someone to say goodbye with warmth."
The Storm and the Seed
Thunder rolled again. The garden outside bent in the wind, petals from the hibiscus tree scattered across the courtyard tiles like red confetti for a funeral.
In her chamber, Mama Iroko watched the storm and whispered to no one in particular, "One down… and now the game turns inward."
She held a different list in her hand one not yet shown to Kenny or even her son Tunde. A list not of eliminations… but of those with secrets.
She tapped one name.
Remi.
Another.
Idowu.
A third… but her pen paused.
Chika.
She looked toward the window again, thinking: Let's see who they become when the lights grow dim.
A New Phase Begins
In the early hours of the morning, while the estate lay quiet and the storm began to recede, a courier delivered seven identical envelopes to the candidates' doors.
The message was simple:
"The next test begins at dawn. Trust will be shaken. Choose wisely."
And beneath that, written in Mama Iroko's careful hand:
"Loyalty is not what you promise. It is what you protect."