JAGUNLABI✔

CHAPTER SEVEN

Breaking news! Popular social media influencer, blogger and youth socialite, Omolara Eyimofe, aka Monica Maxi Media, was reportedly found dead in her Victoria Island home this morning. Investigations are ongoing, and the Public Relations Officer of the Lagos state police force, Bello Danjuma, has confirmed the incident. A close friend of the late Omolara, DJ BLT, has called the sudden death a 'heinous crime', and appealed to the authorities to bring the perpetrators to book.

Three days after I was discharged from hospital, the news of Omolara's death was broadcasted. It was on the television, radio and on the front page of practically every newspaper. Other bloggers, some of whom hated her when she was alive, quickly got in on it. There were claims that she was suicidal after her nasty break up with a football star. Another blogger claimed that she was secretly battling alcoholism.

Little did they know...

I told Omolara that the Orisajana's fled from the United States, before they could be arrested for unspecified crimes. Unfortunately, I assumed that passing the 'hot goss' to her would result in a small dent on their reputation. Then the usual cycle of media drama would play out and everything would go back to normal.

Little did I know...

Just like Niyi said, in what apparently was a dream, bloggers usually blew things out of proportion. Omolara published a sensational, Saturday scoop. The main headline being; 'The Orisajana's, suspected drug traffickers and internet fraudsters, eyeing the Governor's House.' She quoted her source as, 'a respected, young Nigerian American and political scientist'.

A ruthless, rival journalist of mine was quick to openly declare that it was me. A claim that I angrily denied, with the threat of legal action.

Understandably, Rotimi Orisajana was furious. He vowed to sue Omolara aka Monica Maxi Media, for defamation of character. She was found dead in her home before she could be taken in for any questioning.

The citizens of Irede were currently divided on the scandal. Politics, just like any time, was quick to cause confusion among the masses. A youth spokesperson, who pleaded for anonymity, claimed that, 'The youths were extremely disappointed with the development, but they were optimistic that Kennedy Olajide would be a great governor.' Whoever it was, obviously was a paid puppet.

In an explosive interview on Radio Nigeria, the youth leader of a rival faction, boldly declared that, 'Rotimi Orisajana is a man of the people, and enemies of progress were clearly hellbent on sabotaging the foundation of Irede for their own selfish interests.'

"Teniola?"

My heart almost stopped beating, before I realised it was Niyi.

Since I left the hospital, I spent all my time at his house. My half-brothers had gone back to their mother's house, and I had been put on paid leave for a month. Hopefully, the issue of the vengeful spirit would have been resolved by the time it was over.

"Teniola?"

"Yes? Niyi, I answered you the first time."

He walked in and set his briefcase on the table in the sitting room. After he fidgeted with his cuff links, I gently removed them, and slipped his blazer off his shoulders.

"No, you did not," he said softly, as he looked into my eyes.

"I did not what?" I asked.

He put his hands on my shoulders. "You did not answer me the first time."

I yanked his shirt over his head and folded it over my arm. "Look at me catering to you like a wife," I chuckled without mirth and ignored his comment. He probably was not wrong.