CHAPTER ELEVEN: “The Father”
455 Words
CHAPTER ELEVEN: “The Father”
POV: Chief Obinna Okoye
Chief Okoye sat in his private office, doors locked, curtains drawn. Outside, the house was chaos—police everywhere, questions flying, guests whispering. But inside this room, it was quiet.
Too quiet.
He lit a cigar with a shaky hand. The lighter clicked twice before catching flame.
He wasn’t grieving.
Not really.
He had already mourned the day his daughter turned against him.
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Adanna had always been clever. Too clever.
He loved her, yes—but only when she stayed in line.
She stopped doing that the moment she turned twenty-one.
That’s when she stopped asking for permission.
That’s when she started asking questions.
And then came the threats.
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He remembered the last time he saw her. Just hours before the ceremony.
She was sitting in front of the mirror, veil in her lap, staring at herself like she didn’t recognize the woman she was becoming.
He had walked in without knocking.
Closed the door quietly.
Sat down across from her.
> “You look beautiful,” he said.
She didn’t answer.
> “This is a good match, Adanna. Chuka is the right man. This wedding secures everything.”
> “Everything for you,” she said.
“For me, it’s a cage.”
He tried to stay calm.
> “You don’t understand how the world works—”
> “No,” she snapped. “You don’t understand that I do. And that I’ve kept receipts.”
That’s when she handed him a small envelope.
Inside: a flash drive, a photocopy of a bank record, and a note with three words:
"Nora didn’t vanish."
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She stood, walked past him, and whispered:
> “You tried to bury her. You’ll fail with me.”
Then she locked herself in the dressing room.
That was the last time he saw her alive.
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Chief Okoye stood up now. Poured himself a glass of brandy. His hand shook again. The walls felt like they were closing in.
He had kept secrets buried for over a decade. But his daughter? She was digging them up like bones in shallow dirt.
He didn’t kill her.
But he wanted to silence her.
He had even sent someone to retrieve the flash drive from her room before the ceremony. Someone loyal. Someone who wouldn’t ask questions.
But now the flash drive was in the hands of the police.
Adanna was dead.
And he was out of time.
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A knock at the door.
He didn’t answer.
Another knock. Louder.
“Sir, it’s Inspector Alabi. We need to speak.”
Chief Okoye closed his eyes.
Crushed the cigar.
And opened the door.
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End of Chapter 11.
- Writer
