A Poor Boy Returned a Lost Wallet—Not Knowing It Belonged to His Future Boss Episode 1

The rain poured mercilessly that evening, flooding the narrow streets and soaking through Tunde’s torn sandals as he trudged home from the mechanic workshop. He was only seventeen, an apprentice with dreams far bigger than his circumstances. His mother sold roasted corn by the roadside, and every evening she waited for him with a small plate of food and a tired smile. But that night, as he took a shortcut through the deserted market, something shiny caught his eye beneath a wooden stall—a leather wallet, soaked but intact. Out of curiosity, he picked it up and wiped the mud away. Inside were several crisp notes, an ID card, and a few business cards. The name on the ID read “Mr. Ayoola Oladimeji – CEO, AyoTech Engineering Ltd.” Tunde froze for a moment, staring at the amount of money inside—more than he and his mother made in six months. His heart pounded as two voices battled in his mind: Keep it, one whispered, no one will know. But another, quieter voice—the one his late father used to speak with—said, Do the right thing, my son. So he tightened his grip on the wallet and made a choice that would unknowingly change his entire life.

The next morning, drenched and hungry, he went to the address on the business card. The security guards at the big gate laughed at him, refusing to let him in. “O boy, go find food jare. People like you no fit see oga,” one mocked. Tunde begged, explaining that he found something important. Eventually, a kind receptionist noticed the commotion and led him in. Inside the grand office, Tunde felt completely out of place—his shirt torn, his face dusty. Then the tall man from the ID card walked in, his tone firm and busy until Tunde nervously handed him the wallet. Ayoola opened it, stunned to see everything still inside. “You found this? And didn’t take anything?” he asked. Tunde shook his head. “No, sir. My mama said even if hunger holds your stomach, don’t let greed hold your soul.” For a moment, the CEO was speechless. He called his driver, gave Tunde food, and asked for his name. “Tunde Alabi, sir,” the boy said shyly before hurrying away.

Ayoola didn’t forget him. For weeks, that encounter stayed in his mind. He kept hearing that sentence about hunger and greed echoing in his thoughts. Years later, when Tunde’s apprenticeship was over, he applied to a big company, unaware it was AyoTech. When the CEO walked into the interview room, their eyes met—and Ayoola’s smile returned slowly. “Do you still believe hunger should never hold your soul?” he asked. Tunde gasped, realizing it was the same man. That day marked a new beginning, but Tunde had no idea that fate still had bigger surprises waiting for him—ones that would test whether goodness truly gets rewarded in the end.

A Poor Boy Returned a Lost Wallet—Not Knowing It Belonged to His Future Boss
Episode 2

Tunde’s hands were cold and shaky as he sat in the small waiting room of AyoTech Engineering, holding the corner of his old file like a lifeline. He had never worn a tie before, never sat in an air-conditioned building, and never imagined that one day, he’d be here—not as a cleaner, not as a messenger, but as a young man hoping for a real job. The interview panel murmured quietly behind the door, and every passing second made his heart thump louder. When the secretary finally called his name, he took a deep breath, whispered a short prayer, and walked in. The moment he stepped into the room, everything around him froze for a heartbeat. Seated at the head of the table was the same man whose wallet he returned years ago—Mr. Ayoola Oladimeji. His eyes widened with recognition, and slowly, a warm smile spread across his face. “You,” he said softly. “I’ve been waiting to see you again.”

The panel exchanged confused looks, but Ayoola raised a hand, asking them to give Tunde the floor. “Tell me,” he said gently, “what brings you here, Tunde?” The young man swallowed hard. “Sir… I just want a chance. I may not have a certificate from a big school, but I know how to work. I learn fast. I can fix anything. All I need is one chance to prove myself.” Ayoola leaned back, studying him closely. He remembered the boy with mud on his sandals, trembling but honest, returning that wallet without touching a single naira. “You already proved yourself,” Ayoola finally said. “Integrity is worth more than any degree.”

Within hours, Tunde was hired—not as a cleaner, but as a junior technical assistant. He ran home with his first ID card pressed against his chest, crying in his mother’s arms. “Mama,” he whispered, “our story is changing.” But life, as kind as it can be, also loves to test the strength of a good heart. A few months into the job, some of the older staff began to whisper behind Tunde’s back. “Who is he sef?” “From the mechanic shop straight into AyoTech? Abeg, he must be sleeping his way to the top or using juju.” Jealousy brewed in corners where smiles once lived.

The worst came from Bode, a senior technician who had been at the company for five years with no promotion. He couldn’t stand how Ayoola always called Tunde “the boy with the golden heart.” One evening, Bode cornered Tunde in the store room. “You think you’re special abi?” he hissed. “You think because oga likes you, you can take everything from us? I’ll make sure you regret ever stepping foot in this company.” Tunde said nothing, but that night he couldn’t sleep. Doubt began to creep in. Maybe he didn’t belong here after all.

Things got worse when a project worth millions suddenly went missing from the system. All fingers pointed to the new boy—the poor one, the easy target. He was called into the boardroom, everyone glaring at him like he’d already been convicted. “Tunde,” the head of security barked, “your login was used to download the confidential file. What do you have to say for yourself?” His throat went dry. “I didn’t do it, sir,” he managed to whisper. But who would believe the poor boy when the system said otherwise?

Just when his world was about to crumble, Ayoola entered the room. “Let him speak,” he said firmly. He stared at Tunde for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to the IT team. “Pull up the CCTV footage.” Minutes later, the room fell silent as the footage revealed Bode sneaking into the server room late at night, using Tunde’s ID card which he had stolen from the locker. Gasps echoed. Bode tried to run, but security caught him. Tunde stood frozen, tears streaming down his face. Ayoola walked over, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, “When I met you, I saw honesty in your eyes. I wasn’t wrong.”

The news spread like wildfire. Overnight, the boy who was mocked became the young man everyone respected. Ayoola promoted him, but more than that, he trusted him. “You’re not just an employee to me, Tunde,” Ayoola said quietly in his office later that day. “You’re the son I never had.”

But as Tunde looked out the office window that night, the city lights blinking below, he didn’t know that his journey was just beginning. Ayoola’s trust would soon lead him into battles far bigger than jealousy. Power. Family secrets. Love. And a loyalty that would be tested like never before.

A POOR BOY RETURNED A LOST WALLET — NOT KNOWING IT BELONGED TO HIS FUTURE BOSS
Episode 3

It had been two years since the day Tunde got his first job at AyoTech. Two years of growth, hard work, and countless nights of learning to turn screws, wires, and broken machines into possibilities. But beneath all the laughter and success, something else had started to bloom — something Tunde didn’t plan for: love. Her name was Dara — Mr. Ayoola’s only daughter. She was gentle, intelligent, and saw beyond the grease stains and worn shirts Tunde wore. To her, he was not just an employee — he was a miracle, the man who reminded her father that goodness still existed in a world full of greed. They spent hours together, working on community projects, fixing donated machines for orphanages, and sometimes, just sitting on the company rooftop, talking about dreams they were too afraid to say out loud.

But love, in its purest form, often draws battle lines. When Mr. Ayoola found out about their growing closeness, he was silent for days. One evening, he called Tunde into his office — the same office where he had first offered him a job. “Tunde,” he said softly, “I owe you everything. But there’s one thing I can’t give you — my daughter.” The words hit harder than any blow. “Sir, I swear I would never disrespect you—” Tunde began, but Ayoola raised a hand. “It’s not about respect. It’s about the world we live in. Dara deserves comfort, stability… and I don’t want her to suffer what poverty made you suffer.” Tunde lowered his head, his heart pounding painfully. “Sir,” he whispered, “I may not be rich, but I’ll never let her suffer.” But Ayoola only sighed. “Some pains come, not from hunger, but from the eyes of society. Go home, son.”

The next day, Tunde was transferred to the company’s branch in Port Harcourt — quietly, without discussion. Dara cried when she heard, begging her father to reconsider, but Ayoola stood firm. “Love doesn’t feed the future,” he said coldly. But his heart broke the moment she ran to her room in tears. For months, Tunde buried himself in work, refusing to call or text her, even though every night he whispered her name in prayer. He wanted to prove himself — not through promises, but through purpose. He started a side project — an innovation to help rural communities power their homes using scrap materials. The idea grew, caught attention, and soon, even government officials were calling.

One day, at a company conference in Lagos, his project was chosen for presentation. When he arrived, nervous and hopeful, the entire board was already seated — including Ayoola and, to his surprise, Dara. Their eyes met for the first time in months. She smiled faintly, tears glimmering. When Tunde finished his presentation, Ayoola was silent for a long time. Then he stood up slowly and began to clap — the entire hall followed. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said proudly, “this young man was once just an employee. But today, he represents everything this company stands for — honesty, vision, and heart.”

After the event, Ayoola called him aside. His voice trembled slightly. “Do you know why I was hard on you, Tunde?” he asked. “Because I wanted you to stand on your own before standing beside my daughter. You’ve done that, and more.” He paused, his eyes softening. “If you still love her, you have my blessing.”

Tunde fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. “Thank you, sir,” he whispered. That evening, under the golden lights of the company’s courtyard, Dara ran into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time. “You came back,” she whispered. “I never left,” he said.

A year later, at their wedding, Ayoola stood proudly between them, his hand resting on Tunde’s shoulder. “When I lost my wallet,” he said during his speech, “I thought I lost a few naira. I didn’t know I found a son.” The hall erupted in applause, but for Tunde, the real treasure wasn’t wealth or status — it was faith. The belief that one act of honesty could rewrite a life.

That night, as the newlyweds danced, Dara whispered into his ear, “So tell me… if you hadn’t returned that wallet, where do you think you’d be?” Tunde smiled, looking into her eyes. “Probably still praying for a miracle,” he said. “But then… maybe I was someone else’s miracle all along.”

✨ My pen never bleeds 🕊️🕊️
THE END