Chapter 9: Torture
---
Sewa's Perspective
The next morning, Sewa and Moji arrived at the office just after 8:30 AM, weaving through the familiar buzz of downtown Lagos traffic and the ever-busy lobby of Stride Real Estate. Moji peeled off toward the marketing wing with a cheerful wave, while Sewa headed up to the executive floor. She was dressed in a sleek black blazer and tailored grey pants, her heels clicking confidently against the polished tiles. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun, and her eyes held the sharp focus of a woman ready to get things done.
After settling into her office and reviewing some early emails, there was a gentle knock at the door. A nervous intern poked her head in, clutching a tablet.
"Ma... Mr. Tade Williams is here."
Sewa blinked once, her heart skipping slightly—but only for a second. Business face on. "Thank you. I'll be right there."
She gathered her notes, slid a thick manila folder under her arm, and walked purposefully toward the boardroom. Inside, the man she knew as Tobi—now apparently Tade Williams—sat at the long conference table, dressed in a charcoal suit, brows furrowed in a convincing mask of interest. She entered, offering a cool smile.
"Good morning, Mr. Williams. Thank you for coming."
Bayo nodded, playing along. "Good morning. I've been looking forward to this."
The Presentation
Sewa flipped open her file and began, walking toward the projector screen where a digital presentation lit up. Her voice was crisp, clear, and commanding.
"First, I'd like to talk about your firm's property acquisition strategy. From the files we reviewed, Skyrise Real Estate has been acquiring multiple mid-tier properties across Lekki Phase 1 and parts of Ikoyi. The problem, however, lies in your contractual obligations with landlords and development partners. Most of your acquisition contracts are missing non-compete clauses."
Bayo blinked slowly, already trying to recall what a non-compete clause was.
"This means that your partners can lease, sell, or replicate similar development models with competitors—reducing your competitive edge and flooding the market with similar properties. It's a common oversight, but a critical one."
She paced slowly as she continued. "The solution? You need to revise all existing agreements and ensure that future ones include strict non-compete and exclusivity clauses, especially within a 5km development radius. This preserves your firm's branding, price control, and occupancy advantage."
Bayo nodded again, trying not to look overwhelmed. What kind of Iron Lady is this? She fit be giving TedTalk o.
Sewa clicked to the next slide. "Second issue—contract registration. Out of the 12 high-value contracts we reviewed, only 3 were duly registered with the Land Registry. In the event of a legal dispute, unregistered contracts are nearly impossible to enforce in court. That exposes your company to serious risk."
She paused to let that sink in. Bayo adjusted in his seat, resisting the urge to check his phone.
"The solution is two-fold. First, initiate immediate post-signature registration of existing contracts. Second, create a mandatory compliance checklist for your legal team before any deal is signed moving forward. If your team needs a template, we can offer a draft policy guide."
"Sounds… smart," Bayo said with forced enthusiasm, mentally checking how long this meeting had lasted. God, this is torture. Can she stop being so brilliant for five minutes?
Sewa turned the page. "Third—and most pressing—there's the issue of development delay penalties. Most of your contracts place all liability on the property owner, but don't stipulate penalties for your own project delays. That's not only ethically shaky but also dangerous if a disgruntled partner decides to take legal action."
Bayo frowned now. "Wait—so we're exposed even if the delay's not our fault?"
Sewa smiled slightly. "You're exposed especially if you didn't define terms clearly. Courts can interpret silence as consent, Mr. Williams."
He swallowed hard, nodding. Chai. I fit die here.
"The solution is to create balanced contracts with shared liability clauses—clearly defining what counts as a 'delay' and how penalties should be fairly applied. It protects both parties and improves your reputation in the development space."
She paused again, looking directly at him. "So… does that all make sense?"
Bayo sat up straighter, throwing on his best fake-confident smile. "Perfectly. Crystal clear. Thank you, Ms. Johnson. This has been… enlightening."
Internally, he was screaming. Tade better owe me his life for this.
As the meeting dragged on—slide after slide, clause after clause—Bayo's brain began to short-circuit. He had no idea real estate law could be this dense. It was like being waterboarded with legal jargon. His eyes kept darting between the clock on the wall and the door, calculating how long he had to keep pretending to be someone else. The weight of Tade's request was finally sinking in—this wasn't just a handshake and smile gig; it was a full-blown law school lecture.
And then, in an effort to stay awake, his eyes landed on Sewa again. Not her slides. Not her notes. Her.
He blinked.
Whoa.
Now that he wasn't just nodding through documents or trying to keep his cool, he could actually see her—really see her—and the realization hit hard: this woman was fine.
She was tall, not too tall, with a graceful posture that made her command the entire boardroom without even trying. Her skin was a smooth, rich brown that glowed under the soft lighting. Her face was sharply defined—high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes behind elegant frames, a slightly upturned nose, and lips full enough to make any man lose his train of thought mid-sentence.
Her black blazer hugged her waist perfectly, tapering into her hips and showing off just the right amount of curves. Nothing exaggerated. No over-the-top tightness. Just that natural, confident body type that made it clear she worked out, ate good food, and knew exactly what suited her frame. The soft sway of her hips when she walked from one end of the room to the other? Yeah, that was hypnotic. And her fitted grey pants didn't help—tailored just enough to show she was built like a ten, without ever trying too hard.
Even her bun looked stylish. Clean and professional, but with just a hint of laid-back elegance. She gave off that "I'll handle your deal and break your heart if you're not careful" energy—and Bayo was suddenly very, very awake.
He swallowed, blinking again as she turned to look at him, her voice slicing through the fog in his mind. "Mr. Williams, do you have any thoughts on what I just explained about the penalty clauses?"
Bayo cleared his throat and straightened. "Uh—yeah, yeah. Definitely something we need to fix ASAP."
Sewa arched a brow, not quite buying it, but not calling him out either. She turned back to the screen and continued, and Bayo exhaled, leaning back in his chair.
God help me, he thought. This woman is fine, smart as hell, and I'm sitting here pretending to be my cousin. Tade better hope she doesn't like me back, 'cause this lie might get real complicated.
Absolutely, here's a continuation from Bayo's frazzled perspective, filled with humor, frustration, and a growing sense of doom:
---
Sewa glanced at him with her signature professional calm, clearly unfazed. "Since you understand that, let's move to the next document."
Bayo's eyes followed her perfectly manicured fingers as they slid a fresh folder across the table toward him.
Wait. Next document?
He blinked again. Next?
His gaze dropped to the table. That's when he noticed it—truly noticed it. The stack of files resting neatly beside her laptop. Not one, not two, but at least five thick, double-clipped documents, each one looking more intimidating than the last. And they hadn't even touched the Excel sheets she'd printed.
He screamed internally.
How the hell was that just one document?!
He'd been in here for what felt like an entire day already. That first discussion had been so thorough—legal terms, market analytics, zoning violations, clause restructuring—he thought they were close to wrapping things up. Maybe even done. A pat on the back, thank you for your time, let's grab lunch or something light.
But no. Apparently, Sewa was just warming up.
Bayo gripped the edge of his chair, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to nod like he was still cool, calm, and in control. But in his mind, he was pacing, screaming, begging for someone to fake a fire drill or kidnap him—anything to get him out of this endless meeting.
He rubbed a hand down his face slowly, mentally debating whether it was too dramatic to fake a stomach bug. Or maybe he could pretend to get a call—though that might raise suspicion, considering the "Mr. Tade Williams" he was pretending to be was supposed to be laser-focused.
Sewa, oblivious to the internal breakdown happening before her, opened the second folder and began. "Now, in this next report, we discovered discrepancies in the land use allocation for the Eko Haven project. What you submitted to the Ministry doesn't align with the urban redevelopment regulations under Section 54B of the 2020 Act…"
Bayo zoned out for a second, her words becoming distant echoes as he stared at the open document. Eko Haven? Section what now?
All he could think was: Tade owes me lunch. And a bottle of Henny. And possibly therapy.
And just like that, his eyes drifted back to Sewa—calm, collected, beautiful and ruthless with a pen. He sighed and shifted in his seat.
"Stay awake," he muttered to himself. "You got this. Just… four more documents. Maybe five. Maybe seven."
And the torture continued.
---