The night air was thick with the dampness of Lagos during the rainy season, clinging to every surface like an unwelcome second skin. Chidi leaned casually against the sleek black SUV parked in the far corner of the Onyeka estate driveway. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp eyes betrayed a mind that was anything but.
The mansion loomed in the distance, its bright windows spilling golden light onto the perfectly manicured gardens. At this hour, most of the house was silent. The kitchen staff had long retired, the guards were patrolling the gates with their usual lethargy, and the new maid, Tayo, had wrapped up her duties for the day.
Chidi should have been in his cramped quarters, enjoying his rare night off. Instead, he lingered outside, savoring the coolness of the air and the solitude it brought. But his peace was short-lived.
A faint murmur of voices carried on the humid breeze, catching his attention. He turned his head, trying to locate the source. The sound came from the terrace just beyond the dining room, where the French doors opened into the sprawling garden.
Chidi hesitated. Eavesdropping wasn't wise, especially in a household like this one. But curiosity was a persistent itch he couldn't resist scratching. Over the years, he had learned that in a place as grand as the Onyeka estate, secrets were as common as the rain. And some secrets were too tantalizing to ignore.
He moved closer, keeping to the shadows, his footfalls soft against the cobblestone path. The voices became clearer as he approached the veranda, where the dim light cast long, distorted shadows.
"You don't understand, Adaora," Dapo's voice was strained, barely above a whisper, but the tension in it was unmistakable. "It's not just about us anymore. If anyone finds out—"
"No one will find out," Adaora snapped, cutting him off. Her tone was sharp, a brittle edge of both frustration and fear. "You're overthinking this. It's been years, Dapo. Who would even think to look?"
Chidi's brow furrowed as he crouched low behind a row of hedges, straining to hear more. He'd seen his fair share of disputes between the Onyekas, but this felt different—urgent, dangerous even.
"I can't keep living like this," Dapo said, pacing back and forth. His voice dropped, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the humid air. "Every time I walk by that garden, I feel it. I see it. It's not just buried in the ground, Adaora. It's buried in us."
Adaora took a step forward, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. Her posture was rigid, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "Do you think I don't feel it too?" she hissed. "Do you think this is easy for me? I'm the one keeping this family together, making sure everything stays where it's supposed to. If you let your guilt consume you, we'll lose everything."
Chidi's pulse quickened. He edged closer, his breath shallow. What were they talking about? He had heard whispers from the staff about the family's murky past, but this... this was something else entirely.
"What if someone digs too deep?" Dapo's voice wavered, a rare crack in his usually composed demeanor.
"No one is digging," Adaora said firmly. Her voice had an almost hypnotic certainty, as if willing the words into existence. "And no one will. As long as we remain careful—and you don't let your conscience betray us—it will stay buried."
Buried.
The word hung in Chidi's mind like a siren's call. He felt a chill despite the oppressive heat of the night. This wasn't metaphorical. They were talking about something—someone—hidden beneath the carefully maintained veneer of their perfect lives.
"And what about her?" Dapo stopped pacing, turning to face Adaora. His shoulders slumped, his voice tinged with defeat.
Adaora stiffened. "She's not a threat. She doesn't know anything."
"She's too curious," Dapo said, his tone heavy with concern. "I've seen the way she looks around, the questions she asks. You should have picked someone less... inquisitive."
Chidi's heart dropped. They were talking about Tayo.
The girl was new to the household, bright-eyed and eager to prove herself. Chidi had noticed her tendency to linger in places she didn't belong, her curiosity often leading her to ask questions the other staff wouldn't dare utter. He had brushed it off as youthful naivety, but now he realized how dangerous that trait could be.
"I'll handle her," Adaora said, her voice as cold and sharp as glass. "I've handled worse."
The chill that ran down Chidi's spine this time was deeper. He didn't doubt her. Adaora Onyeka was a woman who got what she wanted, no matter the cost.
The conversation shifted after that, their voices dropping to a near whisper. Chidi caught fragments—words like "mistake," "exposure," and "loyalty"—but the full meaning eluded him. He knew enough, though. Whatever was buried in that garden wasn't just a memory.
A sudden noise startled him. The sound of footsteps approaching the terrace. Chidi didn't wait to see who it was. He slipped back into the shadows, retreating with the practiced stealth of someone who had spent years navigating the periphery of other people's lives.
Back at the driveway, he leaned against the SUV, his heart pounding. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with trembling fingers. The flame flared briefly, illuminating his face before disappearing into the night.
The taste of tobacco grounded him, but his thoughts raced. He couldn't unhear what he had just heard. The Onyekas were hiding something—something big. And now, Tayo was caught in the crosshairs of their secrets.
Chidi exhaled a long plume of smoke, the glow of his cigarette fading. He felt a strange mix of fear and responsibility. Tayo didn't know what she was walking into, but Chidi did. And for the first time in years, he found himself caring.
The night stretched on, heavy with unspoken truths and unseen dangers. Chidi knew he had a choice to make: stay silent and protect his job, or risk everything to warn Tayo before it was too late.
As the last ember of his cigarette burned out, Chidi made a quiet vow. Whatever it took, he would uncover the truth. Because in a house like this, secrets weren't just dangerous—they were deadly.