The holding room at the EFCC headquarters was a stark, soul-crushing contrast to the velvet luxury of the Eko Hotel penthouse. Here, the air was filtered through ancient, clogged vents, carrying the heavy scent of industrial floor wax, stale cigarette smoke, and the metallic tang of fear. The fluorescent lights overhead hummed with a low, rhythmic buzz that felt like a jagged needle scratching against the inside of my skull. Every flickering pulse of the light seemed to mock the high-tech world I had just been ripped away from.
They had stripped me of my dignity the moment we crossed the threshold. They had taken my jewelry—the diamond earrings Alexander had fastened himself—my designer heels, and most importantly, my phone. But as I sat on the cold, bolted-down metal chair, my wrists cha
