EPISODE: 2

• But he was always traveling, always busy with his foundation work, always somewhere else when his wife’s true nature emerged. and Engoi had learned not to hope for rescue. Hope was dangerous in a place like this. “Clean this up,” Mrs. Adamola commanded, waving dismissively at the tea service. “And when you’re done, I want every window in this house sparkling.
• We’re having guests tonight, and I won’t have them thinking I can’t manage my own household.” Mosi nodded, not trusting her voice. She gathered the tea things with shaking hands, her cheeks still throbbing. As she turned to go, Mrs. Adamola’s voice stopped her cold. And Enozi, next time you serve me garbage, I’ll make sure you remember it for a very long time. The threat hung in the air like smoke.
• Enozi had learned to read the signs. The way Mrs. Adamola’s eyes glittered when she was planning something cruel, the way her smile became sharp as broken glass. Something bad was coming. She could feel it in her bones. But what could she do? She was 24 years old with no family left, no education beyond primary school, no money saved because every nera went to medicine for her mother until the day she died.
• This mansion was her prison, but it was also her only shelter. And sometimes shelter mattered more than freedom. The day crawled by like all the others. and Guzzi scrubbed windows until her arms achd, mopped floors until her knees screamed, prepared meals that she would eat the scraps of later in the kitchen when no one was watching.
• The other staff, the gardener, the driver, the cook, they all kept their distance. They’d learned, just like she had, that kindness was a luxury that could cost you everything. That evening, as the guests arrived in their expensive cars and glittering clothes, Engi served drinks and canopes with the same invisible efficiency she’d perfected over the years. She watched Mrs.
• Adamola transform into the gracious hostess, all smiles and charm, accepting compliments about her beautiful home and her generous heart. Oh, you’re too kind, Mrs. Adamola laughed, her hand on a guest’s arm. I just believe in treating people well, you know, with dignity and respect. Goi’s stomach turned. She’d learned that the crulest people often wore the most beautiful masks.
• They saved their ugliness for those who couldn’t fight back, those who had nowhere to run. It was as she was serving the last tray of the evening that she felt eyes on her. Not the dismissive glances of the guests, but something different. She looked up to find Chief Adimola watching her from across the room. his dark eyes thoughtful.

EPISODE: 3

• When their gazes met, he didn’t look away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if seeing her for the first time. And in that moment, something shifted. Not dramatically. Nothing ever changed dramatically in Ingo’s world, but like the first crack in a wall that’s been standing too long, under too much pressure. Chief Adamola walked over to where she stood, his movements calm and deliberate.
• “Are you all right?” he asked quietly, his voice so gentle that N goi almost didn’t trust it. She wanted to tell him everything about the slap that morning, about the threats, about the way his wife turned into a monster the moment he left the house, but the words stuck in her throat like stones. Who would believe her? And even if he did, what then? Yes, sir, she whispered instead, her eyes downcast.
• He was quiet for a long moment, and when she dared to look up, his expression was troubled. “If you ever need anything,” he began, then stopped as if realizing how inadequate the words were. “Chinedu.” Mrs. Adamola’s voice cut through the moment like a whip. “Come meet the Oaphor family. They’re interested in donating to your foundation.” Chief Adamola’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
• “Of course,” he said, but his eyes remained on Enozi for another heartbeat. Take care of yourself, he murmured. And then he was gone, drawn back into his wife’s glittering world. But something had been planted, a seed of hope that Enozi was almost afraid to acknowledge, because in her experience, hope was the most dangerous thing of all.
• Little did Enoi know that seeds have a way of growing, even in the darkest soil, and sometimes the very thing that tries to destroy them only makes them stronger. It started with the paranoia Mrs. Adamola had always been cruel, but now there was something else in her eyes, a wild, desperate edge that made Enozi’s skin crawl. She would catch her mistress watching her with an intensity that felt like being studied by a predator.
• “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” Mrs. Adamola hissed one morning as Engoi served breakfast. “I see the way you look at him. The way you flutter around like some helpless bird.” Engo’s hands shook as she set down the plate. I don’t understand, Ma. Don’t lie to me. The words exploded from Mrs. Adamola’s mouth like bullets. You think I don’t see what you’re doing? Trying to turn my own husband against me.
• The accusation was so absurd that Enoi almost laughed. Almost. But you don’t laugh at a woman holding a knife when you’re the one she wants to cut. I would never. Shut up. Mrs. Adamola’s chair scraped against the floor as she stood. You’re nothing but a snake in my house. A viper I’ve been feeding for 10 years.

EPISODE: 4

• The days that followed were like living in a storm that never breaks. Mrs. Adamola’s anger followed Ingoi everywhere, crackling in the air like electricity. She found fault with everything. The way Ingoi folded the clothes, the way she arranged the flowers, the way she breathed too loudly while cleaning.
• And then came the morning that changed everything. Goi was in the kitchen preparing Mrs. Adamola’s breakfast tea with the same careful precision she’d used for thousands of mornings before. The routine was automatic. Two teaspoons of sugar, a splash of milk, stirred exactly 12 times clockwise.
• She’d done it so many times she could have done it in her sleep. But when she carried the tray to the dining room, Mrs. Adamola’s face was already twisted with rage. “You poisoned it!” she screamed, jumping up from her chair. You put something in my tea. Engi’s world tilted. What? No, Ma. I would never. Liar. Mrs.
• Adamola grabbed the teacup and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, leaving a brown stain that looked like blood. You’re trying to kill me. The accusation was so ridiculous, so impossible that Enozi just stood there frozen. But Mrs. Adamola wasn’t finished. She grabbed the iron rod that was used to stoke the fireplace.
• And Enoi saw her own death in those wild eyes. “Please,” Engo Gozi whispered, backing away. “Please, Ma, I didn’t do anything.” The first blow caught her across the shoulders, sending her crashing to the floor. The second hit her ribs, and she heard something crack, but it was the third blow, the one that split her lip and sent blood streaming down her chin that finally broke something inside her.
• “Stop!” she cried out, the word torn from her throat. “Please stop!” But Mrs. Adamola wasn’t stopping. She was beyond reason now, beyond anything except the need to hurt, to destroy, to make Nosi pay for some imagined crime. She grabbed the kettle of water that was still hot from making the tea.
• And what is happening here? The voice cut through the madness like a sword. Chief Adimola stood in the doorway, his face white with shock and horror. The kettle hung in his wife’s hand, steam rising from its spout, and Ingazi lay on the floor like a broken doll. “Chinedu,” Mrs. Adamola’s voice was bright and false. “Thank goodness you’re here. This girl tried to poison me. She put something in my tea.
• ” Chief Adamola’s eyes moved from his wife to Enosi, taking in the blood, the iron rod, the terror written across her face. When he spoke, his voice was deadly quiet. Put down the kettle, faux lake. But she put it down now. There was something in his tone that even Mrs. Adamola couldn’t ignore.
• She set the kettle down with shaking hands, and in that moment, Enozi saw her mistress, as she truly was not a powerful woman, but a frightened, desperate creature who had been exposed to the light. Chief Adamola knelt beside Enosi, his hands gentle as he helped her sit up. “Are you all right?” he asked, and the kindness in his voice made her want to cry. “I didn’t poison anything,” she whispered through swollen lips. “I swear to you, I didn’t.

EPISODE: 5

• He looked at the shattered teacup, then at the tea service, still sitting on the table. Without a word, he picked up the spare cup and poured himself tea from the same pot. Mrs. Adamola’s face went white. Chinedu, don’t. But he was already drinking, his eyes never leaving his wife’s face. He drained the cup completely, then sat down with a sharp click. “Delicious,” he said, his voice like ice, “Just the way I like it.” Mrs.
• Adamola’s carefully constructed world began to crumble around her. “I I thought she must have put something in the other cup. The cup you threw against the wall.” Chief Adamola’s tone was conversational, but Engosi could see the fury burning behind his eyes. The cup that had the exact same tea as this one. For the first time in 10 years, Mrs.
• Adamola had no words. She stood there caught in her own lies, exposed for what she truly was. “Go upstairs,” Chief Adamola said quietly, “and stay there.” Mrs. Adamola opened her mouth to argue, but something in her husband’s face stopped her. She turned and fled, her silk slippers slapping against the marble floor.
• Chief Adamola turned back to Enoi, his expression softening. “Let me help you to your room,” he said. “You need to rest.” But Engi knew that rest was a luxury she couldn’t afford. “Not anymore.” Mrs. Adamola would make her pay for this moment of exposure, for the way her husband had seen through her lies. And next time there might not be anyone to stop her.
• I should go, Muzzi whispered, trying to stand on shaking legs. Go? Where would you go? The question hung in the air like a challenge. Where could she go? She had no family, no friends, no money. The streets of Laros were no kinder to a woman alone than this house was. I don’t know, she admitted, and the words tasted like defeat.
• That night, as Engo Gozi lay in her small room nursing her wounds, she heard the shouting from upstairs. Chief Adimola’s voice, usually so calm and controlled, raised in anger. Mrs. Adamola’s shrill responses, the sound of something breaking, and then silence. Enuzi had just begun to drift off to sleep when her door burst open. Mrs.
• Adamola stood there in her night gown, her hair wild, her eyes blazing with hatred. You, she spat. You turned him against me. I didn’t do anything. Get out. Mrs. Adamola’s voice was deadly calm. Now get out of my house now. It’s raining. I don’t care if it’s the flood from Noah’s time. Get out. Ingoie looked past Mrs. Adamola to the window where rain was indeed falling in sheets.
• The kind of storm that turned the roads into rivers and made the night dangerous for anyone caught in it. Please, she whispered, just let me wait until morning. Mrs. Adamola grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward the door. You have 5 minutes to get your things and get out, or I’ll have you thrown out with nothing but what you’re wearing. Goi’s small bundle of possessions, a few clothes, a photo of her mother, her savings of less than 5,000 Naira took 3 minutes to gather. Mrs. Adamola watched from the doorway, her face twisted with satisfaction.
• And don’t you dare try to contact my husband, she said as Engoi reached the front door. He might have been fooled by your act today, but I know what you are. A nothing, a nobody, and that’s all you’ll ever be. The door slammed shut behind in Gozy with a finality that echoed through her bones.
• She stood there for a moment, rain soaking through her thin dress, her small bundle clutched to her chest. The mansion rose behind her like a fortress. Its lights warm and welcoming from the outside, hiding the darkness within. But life had other plans for Nodzi. Plans that would begin with a man driving through the rain, searching for something precious that he’d lost.