The following morning, the air was crisp and cool as Baba Tayo stepped out onto the veranda. The early sun bathed the estate in a soft, golden light, and the scent of dew-kissed flowers filled the air. The peacefulness of the morning belied the turmoil in Baba Tayo’s heart. He had made a decision the night before—a decision that would shape the future of his family—and today, he would share it with his children.
Baba Tayo called for his housekeeper, Mama Bisola, a woman who had been with the family for as long as he could remember. She was more than just a housekeeper; she was a confidante, someone who had seen Baba Tayo through the highs and lows of life.
“Mama Bisola, please arrange for Kunle, Yemi, and Tayo to come home this weekend. I have something important to discuss with them,” Baba Tayo said, his voice steady but laced with an undertone of urgency.
“Yes, Baba Tayo,” she replied, a knowing look in her eyes. Mama Bisola had always been attuned to the undercurrents of the household, and she sensed that this was not just an ordinary family gathering.
As she left to make the arrangements, Baba Tayo returned to the veranda, his thoughts racing. He wondered how his children would react to what he was about to reveal. Would they understand? Would they accept his decision? Or would this be the moment that divided them forever?
The weekend arrived quickly, and with it, the familiar sounds of his children’s voices filled the house. Kunle was the first to arrive, striding into the estate with the confidence of a man who had always believed he was destined for greatness. Yemi followed shortly after, her presence calm and reassuring, her eyes warm with the love she held for her family. Tayo, the last to arrive, came with a quiet grace, her free-spirited nature evident in the casual clothes she wore and the way she moved as if unburdened by the expectations that weighed on her siblings.
They gathered in the sitting room, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Baba Tayo stood before them, his gaze sweeping over the faces of his children, each so different, yet bound by the same blood, the same legacy.
“My children,” Baba Tayo began, his voice steady, “I have called you here because I believe it is time for us to have a conversation—a conversation about the future, about the wealth that I have accumulated, and about the legacy I wish to leave behind.”
Kunle leaned forward, his interest piqued. Yemi watched her father intently, sensing the gravity of the moment. Tayo remained relaxed, though her eyes betrayed a hint of curiosity.
Baba Tayo continued, “For years, I have struggled with the question of how to best divide my wealth among you. Each of you has your own dreams, your own ambitions, and I respect that. But I have come to realize that wealth, if not handled with care, can become a source of division rather than unity.”
Kunle exchanged a glance with Yemi, while Tayo’s expression grew more thoughtful.
“I will not dictate how the wealth should be divided,” Baba Tayo said, his eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. “Instead, I am entrusting that decision to you, together. I want you to work as a family, to come to a consensus on how best to use the resources I have left behind. Whether you choose to expand the business, invest in philanthropy, or live your lives as you see fit, it is up to you.”
A silence fell over the room as his words sank in. Kunle looked surprised, perhaps even a little disappointed. Yemi’s expression was one of understanding, while Tayo remained impassive, her thoughts unreadable.
“I have written each of you letters,” Baba Tayo continued, pulling the sealed envelopes from his pocket. “In them, you will find my thoughts, my hopes, and my love for you. I ask that you read them carefully, and that you carry the lessons within them into the decisions you will make.”
He handed each of them their letter, the weight of the moment heavy in the air. “Remember, my children, that the true wealth I leave behind is not in these assets, but in the bonds we share as a family. If you can hold onto that, you will be richer than any fortune I could ever give you.”
Kunle was the first to speak, his voice tinged with frustration. “Father, with all due respect, this is a lot to ask. How can you expect us to come to an agreement when we each have different visions for the future?”
Baba Tayo nodded, acknowledging his son’s concerns. “I know it will not be easy, Kunle. But I believe in you—in all of you. This is not just about dividing money; it is about finding common ground, about understanding each other’s values and aspirations.”
Yemi reached out and placed a hand on Kunle’s arm. “Kunle, I think Father is right. We’ve always been stronger together. We just need to find a way to respect each other’s wishes.”
Tayo, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. “I agree with Yemi. We don’t have to see eye to eye on everything, but we can find a way to make this work. After all, it’s not just about us—it’s about honouring Father’s legacy.”
Baba Tayo felt a swell of pride as he listened to his children. Despite their differences, there was a spark of hope in their voices, a glimmer of the unity he had always hoped for.
“Thank you, my children,” he said, his voice filled with emotion. “I have faith in you. And whatever happens, know that I am proud of each of you.”
As the conversation continued, Baba Tayo felt a sense of peace wash over him. The road ahead would be challenging, but he knew that his children had the strength and wisdom to navigate it. And in that moment, he realized that he had already achieved what he had set out to do: he had planted the seeds of understanding, of love, and of unity. The rest, he knew, was in their hands.
