Jackson looked at him calmly. “The man she lied to.”
Silence.
Alice’s voice trembled. “Jackson, please. It’s not what you think.”
Jackson let out a small, bitter laugh. “Really? Because it looks exactly like what I think.”
The man slowly removed his hand from her waist, suddenly uncomfortable.
Smart man.
Jackson leaned slightly closer to Alice, his eyes locked on hers. “You said you weren’t around.”
Pause.
“I guess you were right.”
He glanced around the hotel.
“You’re not around me.”
Alice’s eyes filled with panic. “Jackson, please listen—”
Jackson straightened his suit and smiled. That calm, dangerous smile.
“Enjoy yourself.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, drowning in the consequences of her own lies.
At the dinner table, powerful men sat discussing millions—contracts, investments, opportunities. Jackson sat among them, calm, composed, untouchable.
“Mr. Ekenna, what do you think about the deal?” one of them asked.
Jackson nodded slowly. “It’s profitable.”
“Exactly,” the man said excitedly.
“But,” Jackson added.
They all leaned in.
“Only if loyalty exists.”
He paused.
“And from what I’ve seen tonight, loyalty is very rare.”
The table fell silent.
Nobody understood what he meant.
But his tone was cold enough to freeze the room.
Later that night, back in his mansion, Jackson sat alone on his bed. No music. No lights. Just silence.
Heavy silence.
He stared at his phone.
Alice’s name was still there, still saved as My Peace.
He laughed bitterly.
“Peace,” he whispered. “You gave me war.”
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Then, slowly, a memory surfaced—his grandfather’s voice, soft and wise:
When life becomes too noisy, go to the land. The soil heals what people destroy.
Jackson closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then sat up suddenly.
Decision made.
He stood, walked to his wardrobe, ignored the expensive suits, ignored the designer shoes. Instead, he picked something simple. Plain. Normal.
He looked at himself in the mirror again, but this time he didn’t look like a billionaire.
He looked like a man running away from pain.
Jackson grabbed a small bag, walked toward the door, then paused. He looked around his massive, luxurious bedroom one last time and said quietly, “Money can’t fix this one.”
As he stepped out into the night, one thing was clear:
Jackson Ekenna wasn’t just leaving the city.
He was running from heartbreak—straight into a destiny he never saw coming.
The sun rose gently over the quiet village, far away from the chaos of Lagos. And for the first time in a long while, Jackson Ekenna slept without thinking about heartbreak. No phone calls. No business meetings. No Alice. Just peace.
Well, peace until the goats started shouting.
“Meeeh!”
Jackson jumped up from the small wooden bed. “What is that?” he shouted.
Outside, a goat stared at him like it owned the land.
Jackson held his chest. “Ah. So this is the alarm clock here. Noted.”
He stepped outside his grandfather’s old house. The walls were cracked. The roof looked like it had survived several arguments with rain.
Jackson stretched his body and inhaled deeply.
Fresh air. Real air. Not the expensive air from air conditioners.
