Mustafa had learned early that the world did not listen to boys like him.

Invisible. Hungry. Forgotten.

But on one cold night at the edge of a silent forest, he saw something no child should ever witness.

Two men dressed like power itself were burying another man alive.

And not just any man.

Chief Oladipo Bologan—one of the richest men in Lagos.

Mustafa’s heart pounded as the earth swallowed the billionaire inch by inch. He could run, or he could speak. But who would believe a homeless boy over men in suits?

What Mustafa chose next would change everything.

In the restless heart of Lagos, where the streets never truly slept and the air always carried the scent of survival, Mustafa existed like a shadow. No one cared to notice him. He was barely twelve, though hunger had carved older years into his thin face.