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Born as triplets, Yemi, Tayo, and Bayo were separated at birth, each sold to different wealthy families across Nigeria due to their mother's dire situation. While Yemi remained in Nigeria, growing up to become a celebrated artist, Bayo found himself embedded in the world of espionage as a top CIA agent, and Tayo tragically died under mysterious circumstances. When Bayo learns the truth of his origins, he returns to Nigeria, only to be caught in a web of mistaken identity, as dangerous forces mistake him for someone else. The journey to reunite with his surviving sibling and uncover long-buried secrets begins, with twists in the supernatural as their destinies collide once again.
Chapter 1 The Call of the Past
The sun beat down on the glass skyscrapers of Washington, D.C., casting long shadows as Bayo stood in front of his apartment window, lost in thought. He was tall, with the chiseled frame of a man who had seen too much, his dark brown eyes staring into the distance, yet focused inward. His fingers absently ran across the smooth, black surface of the necklace he always wore-a small, unassuming pendant his adoptive father had given him on his eighteenth birthday.
For as long as he could remember, Bayo had felt a void. A nagging sensation that something was missing, as if a part of him had been left behind in a life he couldn't remember. Being a top CIA agent should have filled that gap-should have made him feel whole-but even the adrenaline of covert missions, the thrill of saving lives, and the weight of national secrets hadn't done it. Not until a week ago, when his adoptive father, Chief John Peters, revealed the truth.
"You were born in Nigeria, son. You were separated from your siblings-triplets-on the day of your birth," Peters had said, his voice trembling with age but firm with the gravity of the revelation.
The truth had hit Bayo like a freight train. Triplets? He had siblings? Why had this been hidden from him all these years? He'd spent countless nights revisiting his past, wondering why he'd never been told. But when his father had placed a dusty, old letter into his hands-the letter from the woman who had birthed him-it all became clear.
She was poor. Desperate. She had sold them to wealthy families, unable to care for three babies on her own. Each of them had gone to different homes, to lives she hoped would be better than the one she could give them.
The pendant on his necklace was all that remained of his true heritage, a relic passed down through generations of his Yoruba ancestors. The letter had been brief, but in its few lines, it spoke volumes. He had a brother and a sister. One still in Nigeria, the other... gone. His sister, Tayo, had died young. The thought weighed on him even now, a stranger he had never met but whose death tugged at his heart.
A soft knock at the door pulled Bayo out of his thoughts. He turned, stepping away from the window just as his wife, Sarah, walked into the room. A fellow CIA agent, Sarah was a force to be reckoned with, possessing powers even the Agency couldn't fully explain. Her red hair was tied back in a neat bun, her sharp green eyes scanning him for signs of the turmoil he was feeling.
"Still thinking about it?" she asked gently, crossing the room and slipping her arms around his waist.
Bayo nodded, his jaw tense. "It's not something you just shake off. I need to know more. I need to find Yemi."
"And you will," Sarah reassured him. "You've already booked the flight to Nigeria. It's just a matter of time."
Bayo's eyes softened as he looked at her, grateful for her steady presence in his life. But the weight of his impending journey still hung heavy on his shoulders. He had no idea what awaited him in Nigeria, no idea what his brother was like, or if Yemi even knew he existed. All he knew was that he had to find out.
Two days later, the scorching heat of Lagos hit Bayo like a wave as he stepped off the private jet. The familiar thrum of city life surrounded him-cars honking, vendors calling out their wares, the smell of street food mixing with the aroma of the salty ocean air. Lagos was a city of contrasts, its wealth and poverty living side by side, and Bayo could feel it even as he was ushered into the sleek, black SUV waiting for him on the tarmac.
He was a foreigner here, despite his roots. This wasn't the Nigeria he remembered from faint childhood memories. Everything felt distant, unfamiliar. Even the Yoruba he'd learned from his adoptive father felt rusty as he greeted the driver with a short, polite phrase.
"Omo mi," the driver replied with a wide smile, his weathered face lighting up as he recognized Bayo's effort to connect. "Welcome home."
Home. The word echoed in Bayo's mind. Was this truly home? Or had he left that behind when he stepped into the world of espionage and superpowers?
The drive through the bustling city streets was uneventful, though Bayo's eyes constantly flicked to the rearview mirror. Years of CIA training had conditioned him to be cautious, alert. His gut told him something was off, but he couldn't place it. Perhaps it was just the unfamiliarity of being back on African soil.
Soon, they arrived at a luxurious hotel in Victoria Island, the heart of Lagos' elite. The building towered over the surrounding skyline, its glass windows reflecting the setting sun. Bayo stepped out of the car, his senses on high alert as he made his way into the lobby.
He checked into his suite without any issues. The room was opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the shimmering Atlantic Ocean. But even in this luxury, Bayo felt a prickle of unease crawling up his spine. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.
That night, Bayo lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The air felt thick, charged with something he couldn't quite explain. Just as he began to drift off, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
A message. An unknown number.
"We know why you're here. Don't think you can hide. You're being watched."
Bayo bolted upright, his heart racing. He scanned the room, his training kicking in as he assessed the situation. How had they found him so quickly? He had come to Nigeria under an alias, his trip supposed to be discreet. But someone knew. Someone was watching him, and they weren't going to make his search for Yemi easy.
His hand instinctively went to his necklace, gripping the pendant tightly. It was a reminder of where he came from, of the mission he had set for himself. But now, it was also a warning-he wasn't just here for a family reunion. He was in the crosshairs of forces that had their own plans for him.
The next morning, as he prepared to leave the hotel and begin his search, he noticed something strange. A sleek, black car parked just down the street from the entrance. It had been there the night before too. The same one.
Bayo's eyes narrowed. He wasn't just being watched-he was being followed.
As he turned to head back inside, his phone buzzed again. This time, the message was clearer, more direct.
"You think you can escape us? Don't run, Bayo. We'll find you before you find him."
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