CHAPTER 7: DR. OKORO
1302 Words
CHAPTER 7: DR. OKORO
*7:30 AM. Monday. FUEN College of Medicine – First Day.*
The hall smelled like formalin and fear.
300 students. All 300+ JAMB. All here because they were smart.
Ada sat in Row 3. Not front. Not back. She wasn’t hiding. She wasn’t showing off.
She was Dr. Okoro now.
Her name tag said it: *ADA CHIOMA OKORO – MBBS 1 – 328*
The “328” was written in red pen. By Mr. Jude. Before he left the village. _“So you never forget what you paid for it.”_
*8:00 AM.*
The door opened.
Silence.
A man walked in. White coat. Old. Tired eyes. But eyes that had seen 10,000 students.
He didn’t introduce himself. He just wrote on the board:
*ANATOMY 101*
*Lecturer: Prof. Kenechukwu Obi*
Chalk snapped.
The hall froze.
Kene. Obi.
Not _that_ Dr. Kene. Older. 60s. Gray hair. But the same last name. Same jawline. Same cold eyes.
He turned. Scanned the room. Stopped at Ada.
And smiled.
Not the Room 304 smile. Worse.
A _proud_ smile.
“Miss Okoro,” Prof. Kenechukwu said. His voice filled the hall. “328. FUEN’s highest in 10 years. The girl who exposed my sons.”
Sons.
Plural.
The hall gasped. 300 heads turned to Ada.
Ada stood. Slow. “Your sons, sir?”
“My twins,” Prof. Kenechukwu said. “Kene Senior. Kene Junior. Both in DSS custody now. Because of you.” He walked to her desk. Stopped. “Do you know what that makes me?”
Ada didn’t flinch. “A father.”
“No,” he said. Soft. “It makes me your biggest problem.”
He leaned in. Only Ada could hear: “JAMB was my empire. My sons ran it. You burned it down. Now you’re in my classroom. For 6 years, Miss Okoro. Six. Years.”
He straightened. Addressed the hall. “Medicine is about power. Life. Death. I decide who passes. Who fails. Who becomes doctor. Who cleans hospitals.”
He looked at Ada. “Class dismissed. Except Miss Okoro. Stay behind. We need to discuss... your mercy offer.”
---
*8:17 AM. Empty Anatomy Hall.*
Just Ada. And Prof. Kenechukwu. And 20 skeletons in glass cases.
“You have two choices,” he said. He sat on a desk. Like Dr. Kene did in Room 304. “Same as my sons gave you. But different currency.”
Ada stayed standing. “I’m listening.”
“Choice 1,” he said. “You withdraw from FUEN today. Quietly. Go home. Become a farmer like your father. Your 328 dies here. I’ll even write you a nice reference letter. ‘Too traumatized to continue’. Everyone will understand.”
“And Choice 2?”
“Choice 2,” he said. “You stay. Six years. And every single test, every single exam, every single viva... you get 28.”
Ada blinked. “28?”
“Not 0,” he said. “0 is suspicious. 28 is just... dumb. Dumb enough to fail out in Year 2. Dumb enough that no one questions it. Dumb enough that when you go back to your village, they say ‘we knew 328 was fake’. I’ll destroy you slowly, Miss Okoro. The way you destroyed my name slowly.”
He stood. Walked to the door. “You have 24 hours to decide. Mercy offer expires tomorrow 8:00 AM. Same time class starts.”
He left.
Ada sat down. In the empty hall. Surrounded by skeletons.
*28.*
Again.
*9:03 AM. FUEN Library – Back Corner.*
Ada opened her phone.
Dreame.
*Behind The Scene*
*1.2 Million reads*
*Contract Offer: ₦8,000,000*
She started typing.
*Chapter 5: The Professor*
_His name is Prof. Kenechukwu Obi. He’s their father. He teaches Anatomy. He just offered me 28 for six years._
_The Kene empire wasn’t 2 brothers. It was 3 men._
_And the king is still on the board._
She didn’t post. Yet.
Someone slid into the seat opposite her.
Fatima Bello. 290 girl. Now 290 again. FUEN Medicine. Row 1 student.
“I heard,” Fatima said. No greeting. “Everyone heard. His voice is loud. The whole hall.”
Ada closed her phone. “Then you know I’m leaving.”
“No,” Fatima said. “I know you’re staying.”
Fatima pushed a paper across the table.
A list.
*Names. 47 names.*
*“We failed Anatomy 101 last year. Prof. K. Obi. All of us scored 28-32. All of us protested. All of us were expelled for ‘examination malpractice’.”*
Ada read the names. Muslim. Christian. Igbo. Yoruba. Hausa.
“This is his pattern,” Fatima said. “He’s been doing 28 for 15 years, Ada. To students who can’t pay. Who won’t sleep with him. Who his sons failed to recruit. You’re not the first 328. You’re the first one who _lived_ to get to FUEN.”
Ada looked up. “Why are you telling me this?”
Fatima smiled. Sharp. “Because I’m Year 2. I repeated. I passed his class by 1 mark. 41. Because I learned the pattern.”
She slid another paper across.
*ANATOMY 101 – PROF. K. OBI – PAST QUESTIONS 2010-2025*
“His questions never change,” Fatima said. “He’s lazy. He’s arrogant. He thinks no one is smart enough to memorize 15 years of papers. But 328 people are.”
Ada stared at the papers. Then at Fatima.
“Why help me?”
Fatima’s eyes went hard. “Because my sister was #8 on that list. She killed herself in 2022. 28 in Anatomy. Letter from Prof. K: ‘Too dumb for medicine’. She believed him.”
Silence.
Fatima stood. “6 years, Ada. You don’t fight him for 6 years. You beat him in 6 _days_. Anatomy Test 1 is Monday. 100 marks. Score 90. Break his 28 system on Day 1. Show the other 299 students that 28 is a lie.”
She walked away. Turned at the door.
“Welcome to FUEN, Dr. Okoro. Class starts now.”
*2:00 AM. Okoro Hostel – Room 12B.*
Ada hadn’t slept.
15 years of Anatomy papers. Spread across her bed. Red pen. Highlighter.
*Upper Limb. Lower Limb. Thorax. Abdomen.*
Prof. K’s pattern: He asked Q3 from 2011 every single year. He asked Q7 from 2018 every single year.
28 wasn’t random. 28 was the score you got if you didn’t have the papers.
She wasn’t writing Dreame tonight.
She was writing her own mercy offer.
*5:30 AM.*
She texted Fatima: _“I’m staying. I’m taking 90.”_
Fatima replied instantly: _“We are 328.”_
*8:00 AM. Anatomy Hall – Test Day.*
300 students. 300 scripts.
Prof. Kenechukwu stood at the front. Smiling. “Welcome to your first Anatomy test, doctors. Pass mark is 40. Most of you will get 28.”
He looked at Ada. Winked.
“Begin.”
Ada flipped her paper.
Q1. From 2012.
Q3. From 2011.
Q7. From 2018.
All of it. All 20 questions. She’d seen them. All of them. Last night. 2:00 AM. 3:00 AM. 4:00 AM.
She picked up her pen.
And started writing.
*10:00 AM. Staff Room.*
Prof. Kenechukwu was marking. Red pen. Fast.
*28. 28. 31. 28. 29. 28.*
He was humming.
Then he got to Script #047.
*ADA CHIOMA OKORO – 328*
He stopped humming.
Q1: Correct.
Q3: Correct.
Q7: Correct.
Page 2. Correct.
Page 3. Correct.
Page 4.
At the bottom, Ada had written a note. Not an answer.
*“Mercy offer rejected. See you in Year 2, Prof.*
*P.S. Chapter 5 posts at 6 PM.”*
Score: *94/100*
Prof. Kenechukwu’s red pen snapped.
Same sound as chalk.
Same sound as Room 304 door.
Outside, 299 students waited.
And Fatima Bello started clapping.
---
- Writer
