chapter 10- chief eze speaks
2211 Words
_Chapter 10 –
Chief Eze Speaks_
_POV: Amara_
The TV was still on mute when I saw it.
_BREAKING: LIT Dean Resigns Amid Scholarship Scandal._
My face was blurred in the footage, but the library quad was unmistakable. The slap. The video that was supposed to save me had made me famous.
Loola was asleep on the couch, bandage still on her wrist. Junior sat in the kitchen chair, not eating, not sleeping. Just watching the door like it might open and end him.
Tunde’s phone buzzed. He read it once, then looked at Kachi.
“Gbagada General. Two men in a black SUV. They’ve been there twenty minutes. Not moving.”
Kachi didn’t swear. He didn’t raise his voice. He just said, “Pack a bag, Amara. We’re leaving.”
I didn’t move.
“If we run, they win.”
Kachi’s jaw tightened. “If we don’t, your mum doesn’t get to run.”
Outside, my phone lit up. Unknown number.
_Tell Kachi hello from Chief Eze._
I read it twice. Then I showed it to him.
Kachi took the phone, stared at the message, and handed it back without a word.
“We go,” he said.
---
The drive to Gbagada General took forty minutes. Tunde drove like he expected a tire to blow at every junction. Two Vipers followed two cars back, scanning mirrors, keeping distance.
Loola stayed at the safe house. Tunde left two of his people with her and Junior. “If they move on the house, you move them,” he told Kachi. “No hesitation.”
Kachi nodded. “Understood.”
I sat in the back with my bag on my lap. The flash drive was still inside. The paper too. Evidence didn’t matter if my mum ended up in it.
Gbagada General was quiet at 8 AM. Too quiet. The usual crowd of relatives, hawkers, and nurses was thinner. Security guards stood in pairs instead of singles.
Mama’s ward was on the second floor. Cardiology.
We took the stairs. Elevators were too easy to trap.
The corridor outside her room was empty. The two men from the SUV were gone. But the chair by the door wasn’t empty.
A man in a plain white shirt sat there, legs crossed, reading a newspaper. He didn’t look up when we stopped.
“Miss Okoro,” he said. His voice was calm. Practiced.
“Chief Eze asked me to pass a message.”
Kachi stepped in front of me. “Say it.”
The man folded the paper, set it aside.
“Your mother’s care is up to date. Her bed is paid for. Through the end of the month.”
He paused.
“If you cooperate, it stays that way. If you don’t, it doesn’t.”
I felt cold.
“That’s not a message. That’s a threat.”
The man smiled. Not kindly.
“Chief Eze doesn’t make threats, Miss Okoro. He states facts. You understand the difference.”
Tunde shifted, hand near his waistband.
“Get up. Now.”
The man stood slowly, hands visible.
“I’m unarmed. But my people are not. And they’re already inside.”
Kachi’s eyes flicked to the door.
“Amara, stay behind me.”
I didn’t. I stepped past him and pushed the door open.
Mama was awake. Sitting up, IV still in her arm. She looked smaller than I remembered.
And standing by her bed was Jamal.
He wasn’t armed. He didn’t need to be.
“Morning, Scholar,” Jamal said. “You move fast. I like that.”
Mama’s eyes went wide when she saw me. “Amara? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in class.”
I walked to her bed, keeping Jamal in my periphery.
“I’m here because of them, Mama. Because of what they did to you.”
Jamal spread his hands.
“We didn’t touch her. We paid for her. That’s more than most people get.”
He looked at Kachi.
“Chief Eze said to tell you this isn’t personal. It’s business. You stop now, the program gets a clean audit. Your mother keeps her bed. You keep your life.”
Kachi’s voice was low. “And if we don’t?”
Jamal shrugged.
“Then the audit finds discrepancies. The program gets shut down. Students get reassigned. And your mother’s bed becomes someone else’s problem.”
I stared at him.
“You’re using sick people as leverage.”
Jamal smiled.
“I’m using what works.”
Mama looked between us, confused, then afraid.
“Amara, what’s going on? Who are these people?”
I knelt by her bed.
“It’s okay, Mama. It’s me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Tunde stepped into the room, eyes scanning for exits, for movement outside.
“We don’t have time for this,” he said. “We need to move her.”
Jamal didn’t stop him.
“You can move her. You can hide her. But you can’t hide forever. And when you get tired, she gets tired.”
Kachi stepped forward.
“If you touch her, I burn everything. The files, the audio, the emails. All of it. No deals. No negotiation.”
Jamal’s smile didn’t change.
“Then do it. But you’ll do it knowing she watched you choose it.”
He turned and walked out. The man in the white shirt followed.
The room went quiet.
Mama reached for my hand. Her fingers were cold.
“Amara, what did you get yourself into?”
I squeezed her hand.
“Something I’m finishing, Mama. I promise.”
Tunde checked the hallway. Clear.
“We move her now. There’s a private clinic in Lekki. Safer. Quieter. Tunde’s cousin runs it.”
Kachi looked at me.
“Your call.”
I looked at Mama. At Jamal’s words. At the way the hospital suddenly felt like a cage.
“We move her,” I said.
---
The transfer took an hour. Two Vipers in scrubs. A stretcher. No sirens. No lights.
Mama didn’t ask questions. She just held my hand the whole time.
When we got to the clinic, it was small. Three floors. Quiet. No security guards at the gate. Just a nurse who nodded when she saw Tunde’s cousin.
“Room 4,” the nurse said. “Same as before.”
Mama was settled in under ten minutes. IV switched, vitals checked, curtains drawn.
I sat by her bed while Kachi and Tunde talked in the hallway.
“You knew they’d come here,” Kachi said quietly.
“Yeah,” Tunde said. “She’s the leverage. Always was.”
“Then why didn’t we move her sooner?”
“Because moving her confirms the leverage works,” Tunde said. “Now they know we’re reacting.”
Kachi was quiet for a long time.
“Good.”
Tunde frowned.
“Good?”
“Good,” Kachi said. “Now they think we’re scared. They’ll get sloppy.”
I heard all of it through the door.
When Kachi came back in, his face was set.
“We have twelve hours,” he said.
“Before what?” I asked.
“Before Chief Eze makes his statement.”
Tunde checked his phone.
“It’s already scheduled. 8 PM. Live broadcast. Campus TV, radio, and the university website.”
I stood up.
“What’s he going to say?”
Kachi met my eyes.
“He’s going to declare the outreach program a security risk. Shut it down. And blame us for it.”
I opened my mouth, but Kachi cut me off.
“And he’ll use Aisha.”
The name hit like a slap.
“Aisha Bello,” Kachi said. “He’s bringing her back into it. If I don’t publicly denounce you and the leak before his statement, he announces the wedding is back on. He’ll say I was coerced, that you and I manufactured the scandal to dodge the arrangement.”
My stomach dropped.
“So I’m either the girl who blackmailed you, or the girl who got your dad’s program shut down. Either way, I lose.”
“Yeah,” Kachi said. “That’s the point.”
Tunde swore under his breath.
“He’s playing both sides. If Kachi backs down, Aisha gets the title. If Kachi fights, he paints you as the villain and keeps the board.”
I looked at Kachi.
“Why didn’t you tell me about her sooner?”
“Because it didn’t matter until now,” he said. “And because I didn’t want you to think I was using you to get out of it.”
“But you are,” I said. “Aren’t you?”
Kachi didn’t answer right away.
“I’m using you to keep her from being used to control me,” he said finally. “That’s not the same thing.”
It didn’t feel like a difference right now.
---
We had twelve hours.
Kachi spent six of them on the phone. Not to Vipers. To old contacts. Alumni. Lecturers who owed him favors. People who’d seen the files and hadn’t looked away.
Tunde coordinated security for the clinic, for the safe house, for Loola and Junior.
I spent my twelve hours writing.
Not a statement. Not a plea.
A thread.
I used the burner account. Truth@U.
I posted the full email threads. The budget reallocations. The calendar invites. I matched them to dates when Loola and Junior disappeared. I tagged the accounts of every student in the outreach program.
The caption was simple:
_“This is what ‘security risk’ looks like. It looks like us.”_
I hit post at 7:58 PM.
Two minutes before Chief Eze went live.
---
8:00 PM.
The clinic TV was on. No mute this time.
Chief Emmanuel Eze sat behind a polished desk. LIT crest behind him. His face was calm. Controlled.
“Good evening,” he said.
“In light of recent events, it has come to my attention that the Outreach Program has been compromised by external actors. Students have been used as leverage. Violence has occurred on campus grounds. This cannot continue.”
He paused.
“Effective immediately, the Outreach Program is suspended. All unsanctioned gatherings are prohibited. The safety of our students is paramount.”
Then he said it.
“My son’s recent association with Miss Amara Okoro was a personal matter. It does not reflect the values of this institution. In the interest of clarity, I am reinstating the family arrangement with Miss Aisha Bello. This will proceed as planned.”
He didn’t mention me again.
He didn’t have to.
The comments started rolling in before he finished speaking.
_They’re lying._
_That’s Amara’s program._
_They shut it down because they got caught._
_Aisha Bello? That’s who he chose over her?_
My phone buzzed.
Truth@U had 400,000 views.
Students were screenshotting my thread and replying under his broadcast.
_We are the program._
_Shut it down and we shut down with it._
_Kachi, say something._
Kachi watched it all, jaw tight.
“You did it,” he said quietly.
“I had to,” I said.
“Now he has to respond to you, not the other way around.”
Tunde came in from the hallway, face grim.
“They’re moving on the safe house.”
Kachi stood up.
“Loola? Junior?”
“Already moved,” Tunde said. “They’re on their way here. But Venom’s people know where they’re going. They’re following.”
Kachi looked at me.
“Stay here with your mum. I’ll handle it.”
I shook my head.
“No. If they come for them, they come for me. I’m not hiding.”
Kachi didn’t argue. He didn’t have time.
We left the clinic five minutes later.
---
They hit us on the road to the safe house.
Three cars. No warning. Tires screeching, doors flying open.
Tunde’s Vipers moved first. One got clipped by a pipe and went down, but the others closed ranks around our car.
Kachi was out before the car stopped. Gun in hand, firing once into the air.
“Back off!”
They didn’t.
The fight was short. Brutal. Over in ninety seconds.
Two of Venom’s people down. One running. The rest arrested by the Vipers before police could arrive.
Loola and Junior’s car pulled up as it ended.
Loola jumped out before it stopped, running to me.
“Are you okay? Are you okay?”
I hugged her. Hard.
“I’m okay. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
Junior stood behind her, watching Kachi.
“They’ll come again,” he said.
“I know,” Kachi said.
Chief Eze’s broadcast ended ten minutes ago.
But the comments didn’t stop.
#TruthAtU was at 1.1 million views.
And Venom had posted a reply.
_“You have no idea what you’ve started.”_
Kachi read it over my shoulder.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
“We do.”
I looked at Loola, at Junior, at Tunde wiping blood off his knuckles.
At Kachi standing between me and the next car that might come.
We weren’t reacting anymore.
We were moving forward.
But now there was Aisha Bello.
And Chief Eze had just made her my problem too.
---
_End of Chapter 10_
- Writer
