CHAPTER 4: SHADOW OF THE RUTHLESS CHIEF
1183 Words
The black car passed slowly, its headlights cutting through the darkness like the eyes of a predator. I pressed my back against the rough wood of our shack, holding my breath until my lungs burned. My hand was clamped tight over the silk-wrapped key Tunde had given me. It felt heavy—heavier than any basket of roses I had ever carried. It was the weight of a new life, and it terrified me.
I waited until the sound of the engine faded into the distant hum of the Lagos night. Only then did I slip back inside our room.
The room was silent, except for the rhythmic, heavy breathing of Mama and the soft snores of Samuel. I sat on my mat and slowly unwrapped the silk. Inside was a gold-colored key and a folded piece of paper. With the light of a small candle, I read the address.
Lekki Phase 1.
I had only heard of Lekki in stories. It was the place where the ground was paved with gold and the houses touched the clouds. To a girl from the slums of Maryland, Lekki was another planet.
“Go to the address. Wait for me.” Tunde’s voice echoed in my head.
I looked at Mama. Her face was peaceful, but her skin was still too thin, her bones too sharp. If I stayed here, his father would eventually find a reason to crush us. If I left, I was stepping into a trap I didn't understand. But as I looked at the medicine bottle on the floor, I knew there was no choice. I couldn't let her die in the dust.
"Mama," I whispered, shaking her shoulder gently. "Mama, wake up. We have to move."
The journey across the bridge the next morning felt like a dream. We didn't take a bus. I used some of the money Tunde had given me earlier to hire a private taxi. I told Samuel it was a game, a secret mission. He sat by the window, his eyes wide as he saw the skyscrapers of the Island rise up like giants.
When the taxi finally stopped in front of a tall, white building with glass balconies, the driver looked at me in the rearview mirror.
"You sure this is the place, sister?" he asked, his voice full of doubt. He looked at our battered suitcases tied with rope and Mama’s faded wrapper.
"Yes," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. "This is the place."
I led Mama and Samuel to the entrance. A security man in a crisp black uniform stepped forward, his face hard. "Yes? Who are you looking for?"
My heart hammered. I pulled out the key and the paper. "I am here for Apartment 4B. The owner told me to come."
The guard took the paper, his eyes moving from the neat handwriting to my dusty slippers. For a moment, I thought he would throw us out. But then he saw the name on the back of the paper—Williams. His posture changed instantly. He straightened his tie and opened the heavy glass door.
"This way, Miss," he said, his voice suddenly polite.
The elevator ride made my stomach drop. Samuel clung to my hand, his face pale as we went higher and higher. When the doors opened on the fourth floor, we walked down a hallway that smelled like fresh lilies and expensive wax.
I pushed the key into the lock of 4B. It turned with a soft click.
We stepped inside, and all of us stopped. The apartment was beautiful. The floors were white marble, cool against my tired feet. There were large sofas that looked like clouds and a kitchen with machines I didn't even know how to use. But the most amazing thing was the wall of glass at the end of the room.
I walked toward it. Below me, the city of Lagos stretched out like a colorful carpet. I could see the ocean in the distance, blue and endless.
"Simi..." Mama whispered, her voice full of wonder. She sat down on the edge of a soft chair as if she were afraid she might break it. "Is this heaven?"
"No, Mama," I said, tears blurring my vision. "It's a hiding place."
I found a bedroom for Mama with a bed so soft she fell asleep almost instantly. I found a room for Samuel with a television and books. Finally, I went back to the living room and opened the small drawer Tunde had mentioned.
Inside was a thick envelope of cash and a smaller, leather-bound book. I opened the book. It wasn't a bank book. It was an art book—full of high-quality sketches, charcoal pencils, and paints.
On the first page, there was a note in Tunde's handwriting:
“To the artist. Use this time to show the world what you see. I will be back soon. Don't look back at the road, Simi. Your life starts now.”
I picked up a charcoal pencil. My hands were still rough from the laundry soap, but as I touched the paper, I felt a spark of something I hadn't felt in years. I sat by the glass wall and began to draw. I didn't draw the flowers. I drew the silver car. I drew the man with kind eyes.
One week has passed. Then two.
Life in the glass cage was strange. We had food, we had peace, and Mama was getting stronger every day. But I felt like a prisoner. I didn't dare leave the apartment, afraid that the Chief's men were waiting downstairs. Every time the phone in the apartment rang, I froze, hoping it was Tunde calling from London.
But the calls never came.
Instead, on the fourteenth day, the news on the television caught my attention. A news anchor with a serious face was speaking.
"Scandal in the Williams Empire," the headline read. "Tunde Williams, son of Chief Williams, has reportedly disappeared in London after a heated legal battle over family assets. Sources say the young heir has cut all ties with his father and is being accused of embezzling millions from the refinery project."
My heart dropped to my stomach. Embezzling? No. Tunde wouldn't steal. He was taking what was his so he could be free.
The news anchor continued: "Chief Williams has issued a public statement, offering a massive reward for any information on his son's whereabouts—and the whereabouts of a young woman believed to be traveling with him."
My face appeared on the screen. It was a blurry photo from the bridge, the same one his father had shown me.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
It wasn't the soft, polite ring of a visitor. It was a loud, aggressive pounding.
"Open up! Police!" a voice shouted from the hallway. "We know you're in there, Simi!"
I looked at Mama, who was standing in the kitchen, her face full of terror. I looked at the glass wall. We were trapped. The palace had become a prison, and the Chief had finally found his
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