You don’t have to start big to build wealth. Start true

Two weeks ago, I thought I had sealed my first big real estate deal.

A duplex in Lekki Phase 2 — clean title, sea view, perfect for a Gen Z investor trying to break into the Lagos property market.

I’d done all my due diligence — verified the Certificate of Occupancy, met the supposed “landowner,” and even took stunning drone shots for my real estate marketing page. Everything screamed “dream deal.”

Until it didn’t.

That morning, I was sitting in a café in Ikate, sipping cold brew and reviewing the purchase agreement on my laptop.

The aroma of roasted beans mixed with the faint sound of Afrobeats playing from the corner speaker. My friend Jide, another property consultant, walked in looking stressed.

“Guy,” he said, dropping his bag. “You sure say this your Lekki deal legit?”

I laughed. “Bro, I’ve been in this real estate business long enough to smell a scam from a mile away. This one is clean.”

He squinted at the screen. “Hmm. You know say two plots from that same survey number show up in another estate listing?”

My smile froze. “What?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I saw it on a property listing website yesterday. Same coordinates. Different owner.”

That was when my stomach dropped.

I immediately called the supposed owner, a well-dressed man named Mr. Dominic. His calm voice came through the line like nothing was wrong.

“Ah, my young investor! I was just about to send you the land receipt template. You’re lucky we don’t delay documents.”

I replied sharply, “Sir, someone else is listing this same plot online.”

Silence. Then a long sigh. “Ah… those are old records. Don’t worry, the land is yours once you pay.”

That was my first red flag waving like a carnival flag in Third Mainland wind.

By 2 p.m., I drove straight to the Lagos State Land Bureau. I needed answers. The sun was blazing, traffic was ruthless, and my anxiety was doing backflips.

Inside the office, I met a civil servant who looked like she’d been surviving solely on indomie and stress. She checked the document, squinted, then looked at me.

“Oga, this land get double allocation. You better no put money here.”

My heart sank.

I had been about to drop ₦12 million — my first real estate investment savings. My brand-new property portfolio dream would’ve ended in disaster before it even began.

I walked out, numb, watching people hurry by — agents on calls, developers showing land pictures, and first-time homebuyers dreaming out loud. I felt like a fraud. Like maybe I wasn’t cut out for real estate entrepreneurship after all.

That evening, I sat in my car, engine off, scrolling through Lagos property listings again. Then I saw it — a tiny bungalow in Ajah, no ocean view, no hype. Just… simple. But it was verified.

I called the agent, a soft-spoken lady named Kemi.

She said, “It’s small, but it’s honest property. You can renovate and flip later.”

I didn’t even think twice. The next morning, I went with her to inspect it.

The house looked tired — faded paint, cracked windows, and a stubborn goat chewing grass near the gate. But somehow, it felt alive.

Kemi smiled, sensing my hesitation. “You don’t have to start big to build wealth. Start true.”

Her words hit deep.

I went ahead with it — and within four months, after some renovation, I listed it on Airbnb. Bookings started rolling in. Then, a travel vlogger stayed there and featured it in a video titled “Affordable Airbnb in Lagos You Shouldn’t Sleep On.”

That one post changed everything.

The listing blew up. I made back my investment in less than six months.

One evening, I got a text from Jide:

“Bro, guess who just got arrested for multiple land frauds? Your guy, Mr. Dominic.”

I froze. Then smiled.

Sometimes, losing a fake opportunity is how you find a real one.

Now I tell every new real estate investor:

“Don’t chase luxury; chase legitimacy.”

Because in real estate, not every flashy property is gold — some are just glitter over gravel.