Chapter 8
1117 Words
Theme: The body keeps secrets, but not forever.
The Monday morning sun slipped through the curtains, painting gold streaks across the floor. Adanna sat at her dressing table, a cup of green tea steaming beside her. Her fingers traced the rim of the porcelain mug as she stared into the mirror.
She had slept fitfully. Every time she closed her eyes, she replayed the dinner—the way David poured Anita’s wine first, the shared glances, the almost imperceptible tightening of Anita’s jaw when she’d toasted “to truth.”
But there was something else that had stayed with her: the taste.
That odd, bitter undertone in the coconut pudding. It wasn’t strong enough to alarm a casual diner, but Adanna had a refined palate. Years of business dinners in different corners of the world had trained her tongue to detect subtleties. And this bitterness… it didn’t belong.
She sipped her tea slowly, her mind already assembling possibilities like chess pieces on a board.
By mid-morning, she was at her company’s headquarters. As CEO of Cole Holdings, she had a thousand things demanding her attention—emails, strategy meetings, investor calls—but the unease gnawed at her, distracting her from everything else.
Her executive assistant, Miriam, noticed. “Are you alright, ma’am? You seem… off today.”
Adanna gave a faint smile. “Just tired.”
“Would you like me to cancel your lunch appointment?”
“No,” Adanna said quickly. “Keep it. And Miriam—find me the number of Dr. Hassan, the toxicologist. Discreetly.”
Miriam hesitated, but her loyalty was unquestionable. “Understood.”
That evening, Adanna drove herself home, waving away the driver. She wanted the solitude, the space to think. As she entered the house, she could hear voices in the kitchen—David’s deep tone, Anita’s lighter one.
She didn’t step in immediately. Instead, she lingered by the hallway, half-concealed behind the wall.
“…you shouldn’t come over so often,” David was saying. “She’ll notice.”
Anita laughed softly. “She’s too busy to notice anything. And besides… everything is working exactly as planned.”
Adanna’s heart rate slowed, not quickened. She wasn’t surprised—only quietly validated.
“What about—” David began, but Anita shushed him. “Don’t say it out loud. Just trust me. She’s already showing signs. It’s only a matter of time.”
Adanna stepped into the kitchen then, her heels clicking on the tile. Both of them turned, Anita with an over-bright smile, David with a slightly startled look.
“You’re home early,” he said.
“I wanted to enjoy dinner with my family,” Adanna replied evenly. “What’s on the menu?”
Kemi, who had been chopping vegetables, looked up nervously. “Madam, I’m making vegetable soup and fresh bread.”
“Lovely,” Adanna said, her eyes never leaving Anita. “I’ll just freshen up.”
Upstairs, she pulled out her phone and dialed Dr. Hassan’s number. The call was short, but precise. She explained she wanted a full blood and hair analysis—privately, with no information shared unless she personally authorized it.
They arranged to meet the next morning.
At dinner, she ate sparingly, making sure to taste enough to keep up appearances. Her eyes kept track of Anita’s movements—the way she leaned over to ladle soup into Adanna’s bowl, the subtle way her hand hovered just a moment longer over Adanna’s plate.
David talked about business, about a potential property acquisition in Abuja, but Adanna’s responses were measured, almost distracted. She was watching, collecting, storing every nuance.
When Anita excused herself after the meal, Adanna stayed behind, helping Kemi clear the table.
“Kemi,” she said softly, “has anyone been in the kitchen lately besides you?”
Kemi hesitated. “Sometimes… Madam Anita comes in when you are not around. She says she wants to help.”
Adanna’s fingers tightened around the plate she was holding. “I see. Thank you.”
Later that night, in her private study, she opened her laptop and began researching slow-acting poisons. The results were grim—most were hard to detect without proper testing, and symptoms could mimic other illnesses: fatigue, nausea, headaches.
She checked the calendar. Three weeks ago was the first time she’d felt that strange dizziness after dinner.
Her mind flashed back to that night. Anita had brought over a “special dessert” she claimed she’d made herself. David had praised it lavishly. Adanna had eaten two spoonfuls before deciding it was too sweet.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
If they think I’m dying… what’s their endgame?
The answer came swiftly—her will. She was worth billions. Real estate, investments, shares in multiple companies. If she died, everything would go to David and Zara. And David, through Zara, could control the fortune completely.
And Anita? She wouldn’t be left out. Not if David had his way.
The next morning, she met Dr. Hassan at his private clinic. The tests were done quickly—a few vials of blood, a lock of hair.
“How soon can I know?” she asked.
“I’ll put a rush on it,” Hassan promised. “But Adanna… if someone is poisoning you, you’ll need to act very carefully. Confronting them without proof is dangerous.”
She gave a faint smile. “I’m not going to confront them. Not yet.”
Back at the office, she worked as though nothing had happened, but her mind was already drafting her next move. She would need allies—people who could quietly gather information, people who could watch David and Anita when she couldn’t.
She thought of Tunde, her head of corporate security. Loyal, discreet, resourceful. He could keep an eye on the house without drawing suspicion.
And she would need to make small changes—eat out more often, prepare her own drinks, have Kemi serve her directly. Nothing dramatic, nothing that would alert them too soon.
That night, she walked into the dining room to find Anita already seated, chatting easily with Zara, who had returned from school.
“Mum, Aunt Anita says she’s taking me to the art gallery on Saturday!” Zara said brightly.
Adanna’s smile didn’t falter, but her pulse spiked. “How lovely. I’m sure you’ll learn a lot.”
David joined them moments later, kissing Anita lightly on the cheek—something he’d never done so openly before. Adanna noted it, stored it away.
As the meal began, she picked up her spoon, inhaled the aroma, and set it back down.
For the first time in weeks, she didn’t take a single bite.
- Writer
