Chapter 10 — The Trap Begins
1045 Words
The following morning, Adanna rose before dawn. Sleep had abandoned her completely in the past week, replaced by a sharp, unsettling clarity that moved through her veins like electricity. She dressed deliberately—soft beige silk blouse, pencil skirt, gold wristwatch. She wanted to look like the Adanna they knew: calm, poised, unshaken.
But every brush stroke of her hair, every button she fastened was war prep.
By seven o'clock, she was seated in the quiet, book-lined chambers of Chief Eze, her lawyer of over a decade. The man was too old for games, too discreet for gossip. He leaned back in his chair and studied her.
“You want to change your will?” he asked slowly. “That’s sudden. From what I recall, your current will leaves everything to your husband and daughter. You’ve always been consistent.”
Adanna’s lips lifted faintly, but her eyes were cold. “Some truths change things, Chief.”
She slid a typed document across his desk. The first page mirrored her old will exactly, the kind of resemblance that made it easy for the careless to miss anything different. But deep in the clauses, the real shift lurked: David would inherit nothing unless he fulfilled strict conditions—remaining married to her until her death, passing annual integrity audits by the board, avoiding any criminal charges. Anita’s name appeared nowhere. Their daughter Zara would inherit directly through a trust managed by two trustees Adanna appointed herself. And if David failed to meet the requirements, every asset would bypass him entirely, divided between Zara and a women’s entrepreneurship foundation Adanna was setting up.
Chief Eze scanned the pages, his gaze sharpening. “You’ve closed every loophole.”
“That’s the point,” Adanna replied. “I want it filed today. Quietly. Keep this new one and the old one in your safe. I’ll tell you when to make the switch public.”
He hesitated. “Adanna… is someone trying to harm you?”
She held his gaze. “Someone already is.”
By mid-morning, she was back at her company headquarters. Tunde was waiting in her office, his expression grim.
“They’ve grown more careless,” he said. “Anita added something to your tea yesterday when Kemi was called away. David’s been asking the kitchen staff questions about your schedule—when you eat, who prepares your meals.”
Adanna’s mouth curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “Good. We’ll give them something to work with.”
She picked up her phone and called the in-house PR director. “Janet, I want you to draft an internal memo for staff. Keep it subtle. Say I’ve been unwell, but it’s nothing serious. Mention that I’ll be spending more time at home for rest, but that I’ve made arrangements to secure the company’s future in case anything happens to me. And make sure it ‘accidentally’ reaches David’s inbox.”
That evening at dinner, she played her part flawlessly—tired, slow movements, sipping water more than she ate.
David frowned. “You barely touched your food.”
“I don’t have much appetite these days,” she murmured.
Anita leaned forward, false concern etched into every line of her face. “Adanna, you should really see a specialist. You’ve been looking so pale.”
“I have,” Adanna said quietly. “They just tell me to rest. And… to start putting my affairs in order.”
The silence that followed was thick and heavy. She didn’t need to look up to know David had glanced at Anita.
Two days later, she called David into her home office.
“There’s something I want to discuss,” she said, gesturing for him to sit. She opened a folder on her desk, deliberately letting him see documents stamped CONFIDENTIAL.
“I’m finalizing some legal matters. In the unlikely event that my health worsens, I need to ensure Zara is cared for. But there are conditions.”
David’s brow creased. “Conditions?”
“Yes. You’ll remain executor of the estate only if you maintain a clean record and uphold the company’s ethical standards. If anything… questionable… happens, the assets go directly to Zara’s trust.”
His eyes flickered—just for a moment—but she saw it.
“I trust you,” she continued smoothly, “but the board insists on safeguards.”
He gave her a tight smile. “Of course. Whatever you think is best.”
She knew exactly what was running through his mind: finish her sooner, before she could change more.
That weekend, she hosted a small dinner at the house. Close friends, a few business associates, and—by calculated design—Anita.
During dessert, she “accidentally” left her phone unlocked on the dining table while she stepped away. On the screen, a draft email to Chief Eze was open:
Finalizing the new will this week. Removing unnecessary beneficiaries. Effective immediately after signature.
She timed her absence perfectly—long enough for Anita to see, short enough to keep suspicion minimal.
When she returned, Anita was smiling again, but her hand trembled slightly as she lifted her wine glass.
Over the next few days, Tunde’s recordings became a goldmine.
One night, Anita’s voice whispered urgently: “If she signs that will, you’re out. Everything goes to the girl and that foundation of hers.”
David’s response was colder than steel: “Then it can’t be ‘next month.’ It has to be now. Tonight, maybe tomorrow.”
“Careful,” Anita hissed. “Too sudden and it’ll raise questions.”
“It’s already been weeks. No one will question a final… collapse.”
Adanna sat in her office, listening to the recording. Her face betrayed nothing, but her grip on the recorder was firm.
She handed it back to Tunde. “We’re ready for the final step.”
That night, she sat at her vanity table, brushing her hair. Her reflection stared back—calm, elegant, unbroken. They thought they were closing in on her. They didn’t realize she was already behind them, holding the strings, ready to pull.
She whispered to her reflection, “Tomorrow, you make your move. And it won’t just save your life—it’ll end theirs.”
- Writer
