Post by Rebecca Ajirioghene Oyetu (@Beccajiri)
SOLD TO THE MAFIA BOSS
EPISODE ONE
The Osas family was once respected in their small Benin neighborhood. People used to call them “the blessed family.” But wealth without the wisdom of God is vanity.
When the economy crashed, Mr. Osas's transport business collapsed overnight. His trucks were seized, his workers left, and his debts began to pile up like shadows he couldn’t escape from. Every night, he sat at the corner of their big sitting room, staring at old receipts and unpaid loans while his wife, Efe, knelt in prayer, whispering through tears, “God, please save us from bankruptcy.”
They had borrowed money from a man no one ever dared to cross. His name was Don Riccardo, the ruthless Italian mafia boss who ruled from the shadows, he was more wicked than LAPO. People said he never smiled, that even death bowed when he passed. No one in Nigeria had ever seen him, he ruled his company from Italy but his men moved like ghosts. They came with smiles, but left behind silence and grief. His loan company was far spread across every country and Nigeria wasn't exempted.
It all began two years earlier, when Mr. Osas took a huge loan to expand his business. He believed success was just one more risk away. He told his wife, “Efe, this is our chance. We’ll pay them back in six months, and we’ll finally move to Lagos.” But six months became one year. Then two.
The money was gone and the interest kept doubling.
When his business perished he sold everything: their car, their land, even Efe’s mother’s jewelry. They used it to survive, to feed their children, to pay school fees. Every day was a battle between hunger and shame. Yet still, the debt remained.
When Don Riccardo’s men came to their house that night, they didn’t knock. They banged the door open while Rain poured heavily outside, thunder rumbling like a warning from heaven.
Mr. Omoregie rushed to the door, his heart pounding. Two tall men stepped in, wearing black coats. Their faces were stone, their eyes colder than the night.
“Mr. Osas,” one said calmly. “The boss is tired of waiting.”
Efe fell to her knees, clutching her wrapper tightly. “Please. Tell him to give us one more chance. My husband will pay. We just need time.”
The man laughed, shaking his head slowly. “Time? You’ve had more than enough. The boss doesn’t deal in promises. He deals in payment.”
Mr. Osas’s lips trembled. “I swear. I’ll find the money. Just….just don’t hurt my family.”
The taller man stepped closer. “You still don’t understand. The boss has already found his payment.” written by Ajirioghene Oyetu
He laughed wickedly…..Then he added, “Your daughter. Precious.”
Efe screamed. “No! You can’t! She’s only nineteen! She’s innocent!”
“That’s not our concern,” the man replied, cold as steel. “Your husband signed the contract. When the debtor cannot pay, his blood pays for him. The boss said to fly her to Italy by tomorrow night.”
Efe fell flat on the floor, weeping uncontrollably. Mr. Osas held his chest, gasping for breath. He wanted to fight, but how do you fight men who carry death in their eyes?
The men walked out, leaving behind silence and despair.
That night, Precious sat by the window in her small room, unaware of what had been decided. She was humming softly, writing in her diary about her dream to one day study in Italy. She didn’t know the same Italy she dreamed of would soon become her prison. written by Ajirioghene Oyetu
Efe entered the room quietly. Her eyes were swollen. She sat beside her daughter, brushing her hair with shaking hands. “Precious,” she whispered, “if one day you find yourself far away from home… don’t hate us. Just know we tried and we will love you forever.”
Precious looked confused. “Mama, what are you talking about?”
Efe forced a smile through her tears. “Nothing, my child. Just sleep.”
But Efe didn’t sleep that night. Neither did her husband.
When dawn came, the men returned. They dragged Precious out while she screamed, her mother clawing at their arms, begging.
“Mama! Papa! Please! Where are they taking me?”
Mr. Osas stood frozen, tears pouring down his face. He wanted to speak, but guilt stole his voice. He had sold his daughter with his silence.
As they shoved Amira into the black SUV, she looked out through the glass and her mother collapsed on the muddy ground, screaming her name while her father, standing in the doorway, looked broken.
The rain began again, washing away their cries.
Precious didn’t know it yet, but the flight that awaited her wasn’t just to Italy. It was to a world ruled by power, pain, and a man who had never known mercy.
TO BE CONTINUED. ........
WE ARE NOTHING BUT PENCILS IN THE HANDS OF THE CREATOR ✍️✍️
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©️ REBECCA AJIRIOGHENE OYETU
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