The First Lady's Kitchen

Chapter Six

The First Lady, Mrs.Glory:

The room smelled of cold steel and citrus. That was deliberate. Fear had a scent, and I never allowed it to linger. It distracted from the truth. I watched Ekaette’s eyes flutter open; confusion first, then the panic of memory snapping back. Her wrists were bound to the chair, but not tightly. I preferred them to feel like they could almost escape. That almost broke them faster than any chain.

Otu, who had flown in from Lagos about twelve hours ago, stood in the corner, silent, arms folded. The others waited by the door.. My Kitchen was quiet tonight, the hum of the fluorescent light like a whisper.

“Good evening, Ekaette,” I said softly, smoothing a crease in my silk robe. “I hope you slept well.”

Her breathing quickened. “Ma… I didn’t do anything. I swear to God, I didn’t...”

I raised a hand. She stopped mid-sentence. My voice was gentle, practiced. “You wrote to The Oracle Press. Or rather, someone did...from your account. Four documents attached. Internal memos. Receipts of money transfers from the State's account to an offshore account.” I tilted my head. “That’s a lot of paper for someone who didn’t do anything.”

Her lips trembled. “Ma, I...I was hacked. Maybe someone...”

I smiled. “The oldest song.”

I stepped closer, letting my heels echo across the tiled floor. Tap. Tap. Tap. She flinched at every sound. The mirror on the far wall reflected us both; she was small and trembling while I was poised, immaculate and untouched.

“You know, Ekaette,” I murmured, circling behind her, “people think the Kitchen is where food is made. They’re right; but not the kind that feeds the body.”

Her breath caught. “Please…”

I bent close, my lips near her ear. “In this room, we cook truth. Slowly. Until it melts through every lie.”

She turned her head slightly, eyes glistening. “I was loyal to His Excellency...”

“To me,” I corrected, sharply. “You were loyal to me.”

Silence followed, thick as smoke. The truth always hid behind fear and I was patient enough to wait for it. I moved to the console, picked up a glass of water, and placed it before her. “Drink.”

She hesitated. I leaned in, whispering, “If I wanted to harm you, you would be long dead.”

Her trembling fingers reached for the glass. She drank, gulping air with it. I watched her throat move, the pulse at her neck quick and loud. Otu finally spoke, voice low, steady. “Madam, she’s holding something back.”

I nodded once. “She always does. They all do. But that’s all right.”

I crouched before her, eyes level. “Ekaette. You’re not in danger. You’re in a moment of truth. The only way to leave this room is through it.”

“I swear, I only told my cousin about the governor’s loots,” she blurted, tears streaking her cheeks. “She works at the paper, but I didn’t mean for them to...”

I exhaled softly. “You see how easy that was?”

Her face crumpled. “Please, don’t kill me.”

“Kill you?” I smiled faintly. “My dear, I’m not a monster. I protect this family. The state. Even you.”

I rose, turning to Otu. “Clean her up. She’ll write a statement tonight.”

Otu nodded. “Yes, ma.”

As I reached for the door, Ekaette sobbed behind me. I paused, looking back. “You know what your problem was, Ekaette?”

She didn’t answer.

“You mistook my silence for mercy.”

Then I left the room. The door closed softly behind me. The hum of the light faded.

***

Governor Daniel:

Morning came without excitement, Just the heavy blur of exhaustion. I sat at my desk, the governor’s seal glaring up at me like an accusation. My phone wouldn’t stop ringing; calls from the Chief Press Secretary, the Commissioner for Information, my Deputy, other commissioners, Senators and friends. All with the same panic in their voices.

By 7 AM, The headlines: “INSECURITY TIGHTENS GRIP ON AKUNEZE-OPPOSITION BLAMES STATE HOUSE.”

“WHERE IS THE GOVERNOR’S CONSCIENCE?”

I dragged a hand over my face, the tremor in my fingers betraying more than fatigue. The press conference had been a disaster. I’d tried to defend policies I no longer believed in.

A knock at the door. My aide slipped in, holding a tablet. His eyes avoided mine. “Sir, the opposition leader is calling for your resignation. They’ve circulated a statement...claiming the administration is eliminating critics.”

My throat dried. “What evidence?”

“None. Just noise. But it’s spreading.”

I stood, staring out the window. From the Government House balcony, Ubiri, looked ordinary; cars moving, people walking, going about their businesses as if they didn't notice the rot in my administration. Some faces were filled with frustration, and I could feel it. The ground was shifting. Behind me, my aide’s voice quivered. “Sir, Her Excellency said she’ll handle it.”

I turned slowly. “Glory?”

“Yes, sir. She said to tell you not to worry.”

Not to worry. The phrase felt like a curse. Every time she said it, something dark followed. I pressed my palms against the desk. “Where is she?”

“She left early, sir. The convoy's destination was Ewendo estate.”

My stomach clenched. Last night’s noise, the sirens, the calls I didn’t answer, they weren’t random. They were hers. I sank into my chair, the weight of it all pressing on my chest. Glory was the calm after the storm but she was also the storm herself.

The protesters outside the gate grew louder, chanting questions I couldn’t answer. The headlines would multiply. The opposition would rise. The people would demand blood. The one person who could save or destroy me was already three steps ahead. I closed my eyes. For the first time, I wondered if the real danger was the protesters outside or the woman I slept beside.