The air in the house seemed thicker than normal, as if the walls were closing in. Adaora sat in her chamber, the warm light from her bedside lamp forming long shadows on the walls. She gripped the pearl necklace Dapo had given her years before, anxiously twisting it between her fingers. She was aware that her normally calm demeanor was slipping.
The truths they had buried together—the decisions they had taken to safeguard their family—were no longer concealed. The strands were unwinding, and Adaora could feel the truth rise to the surface.
She had always been the strong one, the one who kept the family together. Dapo had relied on her all these years, not out of weakness, but because he knew she could manage it. But even Adaora, despite her composure and control, was beginning to fail.
The first indication that anything was awry came days earlier, when she observed Tayo lurking around the pantry. She didn't think much of it at first since staff were often located in unusual places around the home. But then she saw it: the snapshot Tayo had swiftly tucked away as Adaora entered the room.
It was an old photograph, which Adaora believed had been destroyed. The picture of Nneka beaming in her Sunday dress sent shivers down her spine.
Adaora faced Tayo in her normal manner—calm and calculated, with a subtle warning weaved into her words. However, the girl's wide-eyed innocence disturbed her. Tayo was not simply another domestic servant. She was watchful and interested. Too inquisitive.
That night, as she lay awake, Adaora's mind raced. Tayo's presence in the home was like a ticking time bomb. The child had no clue what she was getting into, but her inquiries and discoveries may change everything.
And then there was Chidi. He had always been faithful, but it was to the whole family, not just to her or Dapo. Adaora had overheard him talking to Tayo in quiet tones, his words barely out of reach. What did he tell her? What did he know?
Adaora got from her bed and slipped into her robe. She crept slowly through the mansion, her bare feet scarcely making a sound against the cool marble flooring. The house, despite its grandeur and richness, seemed like a prison tonight.
She walked inside the study, examining the bookcases until she found what she was looking for: an old ledger she had used to manage household spending. There was a little key underneath the sheets.
The key was to a storage room in the basement, which Dapo had insisted on locking up after that night. Adaora paused, her fingers quivering while holding the key. She vowed never to go down there again, but she had no option.
As Adaora down the tiny stairs, she felt her heart racing in her chest. The basement was cooler than the rest of the home, and the air was wet and stale. She opened the door and walked inside, adjusting her eyes to the dark lighting.
There it was—the wooden box.
She had almost forgotten how little it was, and how something so miniscule could wield so much power. Adaora opened it and brushed her fingertips on the contents. Letters, photos, and a little locket were vestiges of Nneka's existence, parts of the jigsaw that they had fought so hard to conceal.
Adaora brought the package back upstairs, her thoughts racing with ideas. She could not allow Tayo or anybody else discover this. If the truth was revealed, it would ruin not just the family's reputation, but also their very existence.
She set the box on the dining table and sat down, peering at it. Dapo had always been the one to take action in situations like these, but she couldn't depend on him anymore. He was obsessed with remorse and crippled by his own problems.
Adaora understood what she needed to accomplish. She had to defend her family at any costs.
The next morning, Adaora discovered Tayo in the kitchen, cleaning off the surfaces. When she came in, the girl glanced up, surprised. Adaora smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
"Tayo, I need to speak with you," she began, her tone forceful but courteous.
Tayo nodded and put down her cloth. Adaora motioned for her to seat at the little breakfast table.
"There are things in this house you don't understand," Adaora said, her voice low. "And I need you to trust me when I say that some doors are better left closed."
Tayo scowled, uncertainty and terror flashing over her features. "Madam, I don't know what you mean."
Adaora leaned forwards, her eyes fierce. "You have been asking inquiries, Tayo. You've looked where you shouldn't. I'm telling you—for your own good—stop right now.
Following her chat with Tayo, Adaora made preparations. She contacted a reliable source—a guy who had previously assisted them when the secrets initially surfaced.
The box, the image, and even the journal Tayo had discovered had to vanish. Adaora oversaw every step, ensuring that no trace was left behind.
By the time the sun went down that evening, the home felt different. Cleaner, lighter. But Adaora saw it as a delusion. The secrets were still there, hidden deeper but no less harmful.
She stood in the garden and gazed up at the house. It loomed above her, a testimony to all she and Dapo had accomplished—and everything they had given up.
Adaora tightened her hands, her determination stiffening. She was determined to protect her family at any costs. Even if it meant becoming the villain in her own narrative.