The metallic buzz of the hair clippers sounded like a swarm of angry hornets right next to Adekunle's ear.BZZZZZZZZ."Papa, please! Not the hair! Anything but the hair!" Adekunle begged, his voice cracking as a thick clump of his carefully maintained, expensive dyed curls fell onto his lap.Chief Solomon stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, his face as hard as a military monument. He didn't utter a single word. He just nodded to the soldier holding the clippers, signaling him to speed up the process.Within five minutes, the job was done. Adekunle looked down at the floor of the courtyard, staring at his lost vanity. He reached up with a trembling hand to touch his scalp. It was completely smooth. Polished. A flawless skinhead. He looked less like a billionaire's son and more like a fresh recruit who had just jumped off a patrol truck."Stand up," Chief Solomon commanded, throwing a bundle of oversized, faded green army camouflage shorts and a plain white singlet at him. "Put those on. From this second, your name is not Adekunle. Your name is 'Boy'. And if you don't move fast enough, my boys will help you move."Ten minutes later, Adekunle was marching down the rocky path toward the far back of the military estate. This was the barracks boys' quarters—the place where the low-ranking soldiers, drivers, and bodyguards lived. There were no air conditioners here. No generator backups. Just old zinc roofs, the smell of local cooking fire, and loud, aggressive military music blasting from a rusty radio."This is your apartment," the escorting soldier said, throwing open a small wooden door.Inside was a single iron spring bed with a thin, faded mattress. A plastic bucket sat in the corner for bathing. On the small wooden table, there was no iPhone, no iPad, and no internet router. Just a single loaf of local agege bread and a bottle of water."Sir," Adekunle said, trying to appeal to the soldier's emotions. "You know me now. We used to cruise in my car. Please, just let me use your phone to send one message to my guy..."The soldier's face instantly went cold. He stepped forward, his massive frame blocking the light from the door."Boy, listen to me very carefully," the soldier growled, his voice deep and menacing. "Your papa give us strict orders. If we see any phone near you, na twenty frog jumps you go do before breakfast. If you sleep late, na dirty slap go wake you up. Go inside and change. Corporal Titus is waiting for you at the backyard. You are cutting the lawn today."The door slammed shut, and the lock turned.Adekunle collapsed onto the hard spring bed, the metal squeaking loudly under his weight. He looked at the agege bread on the table. Just forty-eight hours ago, he was popping expensive champagne at a VIP club in Lekki, bragging about his father's influence. Today, he was a bald-headed prisoner in his own father's barracks.
