Daniel hadn't said a word until his uncle spoke. It was as though hearing Folarin's calm, measured tone allowed him to finally breathe—and when he did, the dam broke.
"They didn't even give me a warning," he said, his voice low, almost as if the shame was still fresh on his tongue. "It wasn't the police. It was the military—soldiers, real soldiers, dressed like they were headed to Sambisa. They came with their guns slung and their boots dusty. Told us to get out. No warrant. No notice. Nothing."
He looked at Folarin, eyes wide with disbelief. "I told them who I was. Who you were. That I paid for the place outright. I protested. I begged. But it was like talking to concrete. They didn't listen. Not one of them. They just looked me dead in the eye and said, 'Leave.' One more time. Just that."
Daniel's jaw clenched. "I was angry. I was so angry. I wanted to shout, to curse them out—but then I saw the look in their eyes." He paused, swallowing hard. "They weren't bluffing."
