AFTER BEING KICKED OUT, SHE NEVER LOOKED BACK—UNTIL SHE BOUGHT THEIR HOUSE AT FORECLOSURE

Amara sat quietly, her pencil dancing across a napkin, sketching a house with a rooftop garden. Her parents had always encouraged her designs, calling her “our little architect.” But tonight, her hands trembled. Uncle Chijioke’s visits always brought arguments, and his eyes lingered too long on the house’s high ceilings and marble floors. “Emeka, you’ve built a kingdom,” Chijioke said, his voice oily as he tore into a piece of goat meat. “But kingdoms need protecting. Taxes, maintenance—this place must cost a fortune.” Emeka’s jaw tightened, his knife slicing through the meat with deliberate force. “We manage, Chijioke. The clinic’s doing well, and Ifeoma’s catering is growing.” Ngozi smirked, fanning herself with a napkin, her red nails flashing. “Growing? I heard you turned down that big hospital deal. Why risk it all for… what, pride?”