Billionaire Father Inlaw Disguises As Servant To Test Son’s Wife..#africanfolktales #tales – Ty

Adaora adjusted the strap of her sandals as she stepped into the sunlit courtyard of their Lagos mansion. It was still surreal to her. This massive house, the neatly trimmed hedges, the marble floors that felt too cold under her feet. She had grown up in a small, noisy flat in Enugu where neighbors argued loudly and children played football in the dusty streets until their mothers screamed at them to come inside.

This life was different, too quiet, almost sterile. She looked around, brushing her braids off her shoulder. Everything was spotless, perfect. Even the gardeners they had before kept the place looking like something out of a magazine. But now they had a new one, Malam Musa. Chisim had mentioned him casually at breakfast, saying his father had sent the man over.

Her mind lingered on that for a moment. His father. She had only met Mr. Okonkwo once, at their traditional wedding. Even then, it wasn’t much of a meeting. He had shown up late, stayed for about an hour, and then left just as quietly. Chisim explained that his father didn’t care much for big social events and preferred to keep to himself.

Still, Adaora had been a little hurt. Wasn’t her wedding important enough for him to make an exception? The truth was, she didn’t know much about her father-in-law. He lived in Abuja most of the time and rarely visited. When they did speak on the phone, it was brief and formal. She had no real picture of him except for the vague memory of a tall man in a dark agbada with a serious face. “Madam.

” The voice startled her out of her thoughts. She turned and saw an older man standing near the flower bed. He wore a faded cap and an old caftan, his hands dirty from pulling weeds. His frame was stooped and his face, though calm, was lined with age. “Yes,” she replied, straightening. “I am the new gardener, madam. Malam Musa,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “Oh.

” Adaora hesitated for a moment, then smiled politely. “Welcome. I hope you’ll settle in quickly.” “Thank you, madam.” She stood there for a moment longer, unsure what else to say. There was something about the way he looked at her, not disrespectful, but sharp, like he was studying her. It made her uncomfortable.

“Well, carry on,” she said quickly before turning and walking back toward the house. Later that evening, Adaora sat in the living room, scrolling through her phone while Chisim sprawled out on the couch next to her, laughing at a comedy skit on his tablet. The glow of the screen lit up his face, his dimples deepening as he chuckled.

“You’re easily amused,” she teased, glancing at him. “Life’s too short to be serious all the time,” he shot back, grinning. Then, as if remembering something, he asked, “Have you seen the new gardener? Malam Musa?” “I met him today,” she said, setting her phone down. “He seems okay.” “Okay?” Chisim raised an eyebrow.

“What does that mean?” Adaora shrugged. “He’s polite, quiet, but I don’t know. There’s something about him.” Chisim laughed, shaking his head. “You overthink everything. He’s just a gardener, Adaora. My dad said he’s experienced, so I trust him.” Adaora didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she looked at Chisim, her mind replaying the way Malam Musa had looked at her earlier.

“Why did your dad send him, though? We could have just hired someone ourselves. You know how my dad is,” Chisim said casually. “He likes to be involved in little things like this, even when nobody asks him to.” Adaora nodded, but something about the explanation didn’t sit right. She didn’t know Mr. Okonkwo well, but she’d assumed he was too busy with his businesses to worry about something like hiring a gardener.

Do you talk to him often? She asked suddenly. My dad? Sometimes, Chisim replied, scrolling through his tablet. Why? I don’t know, Adaora said, leaning back against the couch. I guess I just don’t understand why he doesn’t visit more. He doesn’t even call me. Chisim looked up surprised. He’s not much of a talker. Don’t take it personally.

That’s just how he is. Adaora smiled weakly and changed the subject. But the unease in her chest didn’t go away. The next morning, Adaora decided to visit the garden again. If she was going to live in this house, she wanted to make it feel like hers, even if that meant starting small. Like planting vegetables in the backyard.

She stepped out into the warm morning air and found Malam Musa working near the hedges, trimming them with precise movements. Good morning, she called out. He turned, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into his pocket. Good morning, madam. She walked closer, pointing to a patch of soil near the back. I was thinking of planting some vegetables there.

Do you think it’s a good spot? He studied the area for a moment before shaking his head. No, madam. The sunlight there is not enough. Vegetables need light. Oh, Adaora frowned, glancing at the spot again. Then, where would you suggest? Over there, he said, pointing to a sunnier corner. It is better for growing things. Adaora smiled. Thank you.

I’ll think about it. She watched him for a moment as he returned to his work. His movements were deliberate, almost too precise for someone who was supposed to be just a gardener. And there was something about the way he carried himself, calm but commanding. Have you been doing this long? She asked suddenly.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. Yes, madam. Many years. Where did you work before? She pressed. Many places, he said simply, avoiding her gaze. Adaora felt a flicker of frustration at his vague answers, but didn’t push further. Well, I hope you like it here, she said, turning to leave. As she walked back to the house, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to Malam Musa than he was letting on.

But for now, she decided to let it go. That evening, as she lay in bed next to Chisim, Adaora brought up the gardener again. Do you think your dad will ever come visit? She asked, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe, Chisim replied sleepily. He doesn’t really like Lagos, though. Too noisy for him.

But he sent Malam Musa, so he’s paying attention, right? Chisim yawned. I guess. Why are you so curious about the gardener? Do you have a crush on him or something? Adaora rolled her eyes and smacked his arm. Don’t be ridiculous. I just I don’t know. Something feels off. Off how? Chisim asked, his voice laced with amusement.

You think he’s a spy or something? Adaora didn’t answer. She couldn’t explain it, but something about Malam Musa felt too calculated, too deliberate. She decided to keep an eye on him, even if Chisim thought she was being paranoid. The following morning, Adaora sat at the dining table, nibbling on a slice of toast.

The house was still quiet, except for the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Chisim had left early for a meeting with his management team, leaving Adaora alone with her thoughts. As she sipped her tea, her gaze wandered to the garden visible through the large glass windows. She could see Malam Musa crouched by a bed of roses, carefully pruning the flowers.

There was something about him that didn’t sit right. He worked quietly, always focused, but his movements were deliberate, like someone who was used to being in charge. And those eyes, sharp and watchful. He didn’t look like a man who had spent his life tending to other people’s gardens. Adaora placed her teacup down and stood.

She grabbed her shawl from the back of the chair and made her way outside, her slippers slapping softly against the tiled floor. “Good morning, Malam Musa.” Adaora greeted as she approached him. He straightened slowly, placing his clippers on the ground. “Good morning, madam.” He replied, his tone as calm as ever.

Adaora folded her arms, trying to appear casual. “The roses are looking good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them bloom like this before.” He gave a small nod. “Thank you, madam. They were overgrown. They just needed proper care.” Adaora tilted her head, watching him closely. “You’re very skilled. Have you been doing this your whole life?” “Yes, madam. Many years.

” He said without hesitation, bending down to pick up his clippers. “Where did you work before?” she pressed. Malam Musa paused for a moment, then straightened again, meeting her gaze. “Different places, madam. Mostly in the north.” Adaora nodded slowly, her curiosity growing. “I see. So, my husband’s father, he arranged for you to come here?” “Yes, madam.

” He replied, his face unreadable. “He thought you might need someone experienced to manage the garden.” Adaora smiled politely, but the feeling in her chest didn’t match her expression. “Well, thank you for your hard work.” Malam Musa inclined his head slightly before turning back to the roses. As she walked back into the house, Adaora couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been deliberately vague.

Most people would have at least shared a story or two about their previous jobs, but Malam Musa offered nothing. It was as though he didn’t want her to know anything about him. Later that day, Adaora sat at her desk in the study, going through her inventory list for her skin care products. She had been trying to expand her business since the move to Lagos, but it was harder than she’d expected.

She didn’t want to rely on Chisholm’s money. It was important to her to succeed on her own terms, but balancing her work with the demands of being a billionaire’s wife wasn’t easy. There were always charity events to attend, people to meet, appearances to maintain. Sometimes, she felt like she was losing herself in the process.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Chisholm. Chisholm, “How’s my beautiful wife doing?” Adaora, “Busy. How’s the meeting?” Chisholm, “Long and boring. Can’t wait to be home.” Adaora smiled as she typed out a reply, but her thoughts quickly drifted back to Malam Musa.

She opened the curtains of the study window, peeking out at the garden below. He was now sweeping the stone pathway, his movements slow but precise. “Why does he feel so familiar?” she muttered to herself. By the time Chisholm returned that evening, Adaora was ready to talk. She waited until he had changed out of his suit and settled on the couch with his phone before bringing it up.

Chisholm, “Can I ask you something?” she began, sitting across from him. “Of course. What’s up?” he replied, not looking up from his screen. “It’s about Malam Musa,” Adaora said, leaning forward slightly. Chisholm groaned, finally setting his phone down. “Why are you so obsessed with the gardener? Did he do something wrong?” “No, it’s not that,” she said quickly.

“It’s just don’t you think he’s a little strange? Strange how? Chisholm asked raising an eyebrow. Adora hesitated searching for the right words. He’s too calculated, like he’s watching everything. And when I ask him questions, he barely gives me any answers. Chisholm laughed. Adora, he’s a gardener.

He’s not supposed to talk much. What do you want him to do? Write you a book about his life? I’m serious, Chisholm, Adora said. Her tone firmer now. There’s something about him that doesn’t add up. Chisholm sighed leaning back against the couch. Look, my dad sent him here. That’s all there is to it. My dad said he’s good at what he does and I trust him.

Can we not turn this into some kind of mystery? Adora frowned. But that’s exactly what I don’t understand. Why would your dad be so involved in something as small as hiring a gardener? He doesn’t even live here. Chisholm shrugged. You know how my dad is. He likes to control things even from a distance. Maybe he thought we needed help. And he didn’t want us to waste time finding someone ourselves.

Adora leaned back crossing her arms. I just feel like there’s more to this. Babe, Chisholm said leaning forward, his tone softening. I think you’re overthinking it. Not everyone has some hidden agenda. Malam Musa is probably just trying to do his job without getting in your way. Adora sighed her frustration bubbling under the surface. Maybe you’re right.

I just I can’t shake this feeling. Chisholm smiled and reached for her hand. Trust me. Okay? If there’s anything weird about him, we’ll figure it out. But for now, let’s not stress over the gardener. Adora nodded. But deep down she wasn’t convinced. Something about Malam Musa felt too deliberate, too intentional. And she was determined to find out what it was.

The next morning, Adaora decided to observe Malam Musa more closely. If Chisim wasn’t going to take her concerns seriously, she’d have to figure things out on her own. She waited until she saw him in the garden before stepping outside with a glass of water in her hand. “Good morning, Malam Musa,” she said as she approached. He looked up from the flower bed, nodding politely.

“Good morning, madam. You’re always so busy.” Adaora remarked, taking a sip of her water. “Do you ever take breaks?” “I take breaks when the work is done, madam,” he replied, his tone steady. Adaora chuckled. “That’s very disciplined of you. Were you always this hard working?” “Yes, madam. Hard work is the only way to get good results.

” Adaora nodded, watching him closely. “You must have worked for some important people in the past, then.” Malam Musa paused for a moment, his hands still. “I have worked for many people, madam.” “Anyone I might know?” Adaora pressed, trying to sound casual. He looked up at her, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think so, madam.

” Adaora smiled politely, but inside, her frustration grew. Every time she tried to get a straight answer, he deflected. It was like trying to catch smoke with her hands. Later that day, Adaora called Ngozi, their cook, into the kitchen. Ngozi had been with the family for a few years and had a good eye for people.

If anyone could help her figure out Malam Musa, it was Ngozi. “Madam, you called me?” Ngozi asked, wiping her hands on her apron as she entered the room. “Yes, Ngozi,” Adaora said, motioning for her to sit. “I wanted to ask you about the new gardener.” Ngozi raised an eyebrow. “Malam Musa?” “Yes.

” “Have you noticed anything unusual about him? Edora asked leaning forward slightly. Ngozi frowned thinking for a moment. He’s very quiet madam. Doesn’t talk much to the other staff, but he’s good at his work. Edora nodded. Doesn’t it bother you that he’s so secretive? Ngozi shrugged. Some people are like that madam.

They come, do their job and leave. But she hesitated glancing at Edora. But what? Edora pressed. Ngozi leaned in slightly lowering her voice. Sometimes I see him looking around the house like he’s studying everything. It’s not normal for a gardener if you ask me. Edora’s heart skipped a beat. You’ve noticed it too? Yes madam, Ngozi said, but maybe it’s nothing.

Some people are just curious. Edora shook her head. No Ngozi, it’s more than that. I need to find out who he really is. Ngozi looked at her for a moment before nodding. Be careful madam. Sometimes it’s better not to dig too deep. That evening Edora decided to confront Chisim again. She found him in the living room flipping through channels on the TV.

Chisim, we need to talk, she said standing in front of the screen. He groaned. Not this again. Yes this again, she said firmly. Ngozi has noticed it too. Malam Musa isn’t acting like a regular gardener. Chisim set the remote down looking at her with a mix of amusement and annoyance. What exactly do you think he’s doing? Spying on us? I don’t know Edora admitted, but I know he’s hiding something.

Chisim sighed rubbing his temples. Edora, do you realize how crazy this sounds? My dad sent him. That’s all there is to it. And why would your dad send someone like him? Edora shot back. Your dad barely knows me, Chisim. Why would he go out of his way to send a gardener here? Chisim opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated.

For a moment, he looked almost guilty, but he quickly covered it up with a dismissive laugh. You’re overthinking this, babe. Seriously, let it go. Edaora stared at him, her frustration reaching its peak. You’re not taking this seriously because there’s nothing to take seriously, Chisim said, throwing his hands in the air. Mallam Musa is just a gardener. That’s it.

Edaora shook her head, feeling like she was hitting a wall. Fine. If you won’t help me, I’ll figure it out myself. Chisim sighed as she stormed out of the room, but he didn’t follow her. Edaora’s mind raced as she climbed the stairs to their bedroom. If no one else was going to dig deeper, she’d do it herself.

Something wasn’t right, and she wasn’t going to rest until she found out the truth. Edaora barely slept that night. She tossed and turned, her mind replaying her conversations with Mallam Musa, Chisim, and even Gozi. The pieces didn’t fit together, and the more she thought about it, the more determined she became to get to the bottom of things.

By the time the first rays of sunlight crept through the curtains, Edaora was wide awake, staring at the ceiling. If no one else was going to help her, she’d just have to figure it out on her own. Downstairs, the house was still quiet. Chisim had left early again, off to some meeting about a new sponsorship deal. Edaora wasn’t sure when he’d be back, but she was glad to have the house to herself for now.

It gave her time to think and to act. She poured herself a cup of tea and wandered to the window, watching as Mallam Musa worked in the garden. He moved with the same calm precision she had noticed before, Like someone who was always in control. It didn’t make sense. No gardener she’d ever met behaved like that. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind her.

She turned to see Ngozi entering the kitchen carrying a basket of freshly washed vegetables. “Good morning, madam.” Ngozi greeted setting the basket on the counter. “Good morning, Ngozi.” Edaora replied. Her voice quieter than usual. She hesitated for a moment then added, “Can we talk for a minute?” Ngozi straightened wiping her hands on her apron. “Of course, madam.

Is something wrong?” Edaora glanced back at the window making sure Malam Musa was still outside. “It’s about him.” She said nodding toward the garden. Ngozi followed her gaze her expression cautious. “Malam Musa?” “Yes.” Edaora said lowering her voice. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday about how he’s always watching.

I think you’re right. There’s something strange about him.” Ngozi nodded slowly, her brows furrowing. “I’ve worked for many families, madam but I’ve never seen a gardener like him. He doesn’t act like one.” “What do you mean?” Edaora asked stepping closer. Ngozi hesitated glancing toward the window as if to make sure they weren’t being overheard.

“It’s the way he carries himself, madam. Like he’s not really here to work. And the other day I saw him standing near the study window just looking inside. He wasn’t doing anything. Just staring.” Edaora’s heart quickened. “You’re sure?” “Yes, madam.” Ngozi said firmly. “But when I asked him what he was doing he just smiled and said he was admiring the flowers.

” Edaora clenched her fists, her mind racing. “He’s lying.” She muttered. “He’s hiding something.” Ngozi’s voice softened, her tone careful. “Madam, if you really think something is wrong, maybe you should talk to Ogechi “I’ve tried.” Adaora said, frustration creeping into her voice. “He won’t listen. He keeps saying I’m overreacting.” Ngozi sighed.

“Sometimes men don’t see what we see, madam. But be careful. If Malam Musa is really hiding something, he might not like it if you dig too much.” Adaora nodded, her jaw set. “Thank you, Ngozi. I’ll handle it.” That afternoon, Adaora decided to confront Malam Musa directly. She waited until she saw him near the back of the garden, away from the house.

It was a secluded spot, shielded by tall hedges, and she knew they wouldn’t be overheard. She approached him slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. “Malam Musa,” she called out. He turned to face her, his expression calm as always. “Yes, madam?” “I need to ask you something,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Of course, madam,” he replied, setting down his tools. Adaora folded her arms, her gaze fixed on him. “Why are you really here?” He frowned slightly, the first real emotion she had seen from him. “I don’t understand, madam.” “Yes, you do,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re not just a gardener.

You act like you’re watching us, observing. Why?” For a moment, Malam Musa said nothing. His eyes met hers, and Adaora felt a chill run down her spine. Then he smiled, just a small, almost amused smile. “I am here to work, madam,” he said simply. “That is all.” Adaora shook her head, refusing to back down. “No. There’s more to it.

Who sent you? Why are you really here?” Malam Musa’s smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet determination. “Madam, I think you are imagining things. My only job is to take care of the garden.” “Then why were you standing outside the study window the other day?” Adaora demanded. “Ngozi saw you. What were you doing?” He didn’t flinch.

“I was admiring the flowers, madam. That is all.” “You expect me to believe that?” Adaora snapped, her frustration boiling over. “Do you think I’m stupid?” “No, madam,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “I think you are a careful woman. That is a good thing.” Adaora stared at him, her chest heaving.

His words caught her off guard, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Finally, she turned and walked away, her mind spinning with questions. When Chisim came home that evening, Adaora was waiting for him in the living room. She didn’t even let him take off his shoes before she started. “We need to talk,” she said, standing in front of him with her arms crossed.

Chisim sighed, already sensing where this was going. “Please don’t tell me this is about Mallam Musa again.” “It is,” Adaora said firmly. “Chisim, I talked to Ngozi. She said she’s seen him acting strange, too. He’s not just a gardener. I’m sure of it.” Chisim groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Adaora, we’ve been through this. My dad sent him. End of story.” “No, it’s not the end of the story,” Adaora shot back. “Why can’t you see what’s right in front of you? He’s watching us, Chisim. He’s hiding something.” Chisim lowered his hands, his expression tired but serious. “Adaora, you’re letting your imagination run wild.

Mallam Musa is just doing his job. You’re creating a problem where there isn’t one.” “Why are you defending him?” Adaora demanded, her voice rising. “You don’t even know him. “I’m not defending him,” Chisim said, his voice hardening. “I’m just trying to keep the peace. This is our home, Adaora. I don’t want to start accusing people without proof.

” Adaora threw her hands in the air. “Proof? What proof do you need? Gozie saw him outside the study window. He won’t answer my questions. Isn’t that enough?” “No, it’s not,” Chisim said, his tone final. “Until he does something that actually threatens us, I’m not going to accuse him of anything.” Adaora stared at him, her anger giving way to disbelief. “You don’t believe me.

” “It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Chisim said softly. “I just think you’re letting your suspicions get the best of you.” Adaora’s shoulders slumped and she looked away. “Fine,” she muttered. “If you won’t help me, I’ll handle it myself.” Chisim reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away, turning and walking upstairs.

He watched her go, his expression conflicted. Adaora sat at the kitchen table the next morning, staring blankly at her untouched plate of toast. The sunlight streaming through the windows did little to brighten her mood. Her conversation with Chisim the night before played over and over in her head. She felt alone, like no one understood what she was seeing.

Gozie entered, carrying a tray of fruit. “Madam, are you okay? You’ve been sitting here for a while.” Adaora blinked, shaking herself out of her thoughts. “I’m fine, Gozie. Just thinking.” Gozie placed the tray on the counter, then hesitated. “Is it about Malam Musa?” Adaora looked up at her, the question sparking her determination again. “Yes. I can’t let this go, Gozie.

Something is off and I need to figure out what it is.” Gozie nodded slowly, glancing toward the garden. He’s outside now, madam. I saw him near the tool shed earlier. Edaora’s brow furrowed. The tool shed? What would he be doing there for so long? Gozie shrugged, her expression cautious. I don’t know. He was standing there, not working.

Just standing. Edaora stood, her chair scraping against the floor. I need to see this for myself. Edaora stepped into the garden, trying to move quietly as she approached the tool shed. The small wooden structure was tucked away at the far end of the property, partially hidden by a row of hibiscus bushes.

She could see Malam Musa’s figure through the open door. He was standing inside, his back to her, seemingly lost in thought. Her heart pounded as she drew closer. What was he doing in there? She had to know. Malam Musa, she called, her voice firm. He turned slowly, his expression as calm as ever. Madam, he said, his tone even. Edaora stepped closer, peering past him into the shed.

She saw the usual gardening tools, rakes, shovels, watering cans, but nothing out of place. Yet, the way he stood there, so still, made her uneasy. What are you doing in here? She asked, her eyes narrowing. I was checking the tools, madam, he replied smoothly. Some of them need repairs. Checking the tools? She repeated, her tone skeptical.

You’ve been here for a while. It doesn’t take that long to check tools. His gaze didn’t waver. I like to be thorough, madam. Edaora stared at him, her frustration bubbling to the surface. Why do I feel like you’re always hiding something? You never give straight answers and you always seem to be watching.

What are you really doing here? Madam, he said, his voice steady. I I here to work. That is all. That’s what you keep saying, Adaora snapped. But it doesn’t explain why you’re always lurking around. Like you’re studying us. Malam Musa’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something Adaora couldn’t quite place.

You are reading too much into this, madam, he said quietly. No, I’m not, Adaora shot back. I’m paying attention and I’m not going to stop until I figure out the truth. Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away. Her hands clenched into fists. She didn’t know what Malam Musa was hiding, but she was more determined than ever to find out.

That evening, Adaora paced the living room, her thoughts racing. Chisim was due home any minute and she was bracing herself for another argument. She knew he didn’t want to hear about Malam Musa again, but she couldn’t keep this to herself. When she heard the sound of the front door opening, she took a deep breath and turned to face him.

Chisim entered, looking tired but cheerful, his briefcase in hand. Hey, babe, he said, dropping his briefcase on the couch. What’s for dinner? We need to talk, Adaora said, cutting straight to the point. Chisim groaned, his shoulders slumping. Please tell me this isn’t about the gardener again. It is, Adaora said firmly, and you need to listen to me this time.

Chisim sighed, running a hand through his hair. Adaora, we’ve talked about this. What else is there to say? I caught him in the tool shed today, she said, ignoring his tone. He wasn’t doing anything, just standing there, like he was thinking about something. Maybe he was thinking about work, Chisim said with a shrug.

It’s a tool shed, Adaora. What else would he be doing there? You’re not listening, Adaora snapped. It wasn’t normal. And when I asked him what he was doing, he gave me the same vague answers he always does. Chisholm threw his hands up. “What do you want me to do? Fire him because he spends too much time in the shed?” “I want you to take this seriously,” Adaora said, her voice rising.

“Something isn’t right, Chisholm. And if you don’t care, I’ll figure it out myself.” Chisholm stared at her, his jaw tightening. “Why can’t you just let this go?” “Because I can’t,” Adaora shouted, her frustration boiling over. “I can’t ignore it when I know something is wrong. Why can’t you see that?” “Because you’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Chisholm shot back.

“You’re turning this into some kind of conspiracy, and it’s ridiculous.” Adaora’s chest heaved as she glared at him. “You don’t believe me.” “It’s not about believing you,” Chisholm said, his tone softening. “It’s about trusting that my dad wouldn’t send someone here unless he trusted them. Can’t you trust me on this?” Adaora shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. “I don’t know if I can.

” Chisholm flinched, her words hitting him like a slap. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence heavy between them. Finally, Chisholm sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what else to say, Adaora. If you really think something’s wrong, then do whatever you have to do, but leave me out of it.

” Adaora stared at him, her heart sinking. She wanted to fight, to make him understand, but she could see it in his eyes. He was done arguing. Without another word, she turned and walked upstairs, leaving him alone in the living room. Later that night, as Adaora lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she made a decision.

If Chisholm wasn’t going to help her, she would handle this herself. She didn’t know what Malam Musa was hiding, but she was going to find out, even if it meant doing something risky. Adaora woke up with a plan. The tension between her and Chisholm hadn’t eased overnight, but she had pushed her disappointment aside. This wasn’t the time to dwell on his lack of support.

If she was going to uncover the truth about Malam Musa, she would need to be sharp, patient, and deliberate. As she dressed for the day, her mind raced through the details. Something about him wasn’t adding up, and now she was determined to catch him in the act. But how? She couldn’t exactly spy on him all day without raising suspicion.

If only there were a way to get him to slip, to reveal something he didn’t mean to. When she went downstairs, she found Ngozi bustling about in the kitchen. The smell of frying plantains filled the air, but Adaora wasn’t hungry. “Ngozi,” she said quietly, leaning against the counter. Ngozi turned, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Yes, madam?” “Has he done anything strange today?” Adaora asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Ngozi didn’t have to ask who she meant. She glanced toward the window before answering. “No, madam. He’s just been working in the garden. But there’s something about the way he moves, the way he looks at things. It’s like he’s not really here to work.

” Adaora nodded, her suspicion deepening. “I need you to keep an eye on him for me. Let me know if you see or hear anything unusual.” Ngozi hesitated, then nodded. “I will, madam. But please be careful. If he’s really hiding something, he might not like being watched.” “I’ll be careful,” Adaora promised. “Thank you.

” As the day wore on, Adaora stayed close to the windows, watching Malam Musa from a distance. He moved with his usual precision, trimming hedges and watering plants. But, there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. By the time afternoon rolled around, Adaora was starting to feel frustrated. Maybe she was wrong.

Maybe he really was just a gardener. She was about to turn away when something caught her eye. Malam Musa was standing near the study window, just like Ngozi had said before. He wasn’t working, just standing there looking inside. Adaora’s heart pounded as she watched him. What was he doing? And why the study? Without thinking, she grabbed her phone and crept toward the door, careful not to make any noise.

She stepped outside, keeping low as she approached him from behind. “Malam Musa,” she called sharply. He turned quickly, his calm demeanor replaced by a flicker of surprise. “Madam,” he said, his voice steady but softer than usual. “What are you doing here?” Adaora demanded, her tone firm. “I was admiring the flowers,” he replied, gesturing vaguely to the plants near the window.

Adaora’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been staring into the study. Don’t lie to me.” He straightened, his expression neutral again. “Madam, I assure you, I was only looking at the garden.” “Looking at the garden?” Adaora repeated, her voice rising. “Do you think I’m a fool? I’ve seen you near this window before.

What are you really doing here?” For the first time, Malam Musa hesitated. It was only for a second, but it was enough for Adaora to see through his calm facade. “I do not mean to upset you, madam,” he said finally. “I will stay away from the window if it bothers you.” Adaora stepped closer, her frustration bubbling over. “It’s not about the window.

It’s about you. You’ve been acting strange since the day you got here, and I want to know why.” madam,” he said, his tone almost pleading now. “I am just a gardener. Please believe me.” But Adaora didn’t believe him. Not for a second. She shook her head and stepped back, her mind racing.

She needed proof, something to show Chisim that she wasn’t imagining things. That evening, as Adaora sat in the living room waiting for Chisim to come home, her thoughts kept returning to the study window. Why was Malam Musa so interested in it? Was he looking for something inside? Or was it just a coincidence? When Chisim finally walked through the door, she stood and faced him, her expression serious.

“Chisim, we need to talk,” she said. Chisim sighed, setting his bag down. “Not again, Adaora. Please.” “Yes, again,” she said, crossing her arms. “I saw him today, Malam Musa. He was standing outside the study window, just staring inside.” “Gozi was right.” Chisim groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Adaora, I don’t have the energy for this.

” “You don’t have the energy to listen to your wife?” she shot back. “I’m telling you, something is wrong, and you’re ignoring it.” Chisim dropped onto the couch, leaning his head back. “What do you want me to do? Fire him because he looked at a window?” “No,” Adaora said firmly. “I want you to take me seriously.

I want you to stop acting like I’m making this up.” Chisim sat up, his eyes meeting hers. “I do take you seriously, Adaora, but you’re obsessing over this. Malam Musa is a gardener. That’s all.” “Then why won’t he answer my questions?” Adaora demanded. “Why does he always act like he’s hiding something?” “Maybe because you keep accusing him of things,” Chisim snapped.

“If someone kept questioning me like that, I’d act strange, too.” Adaora’s chest tightened, tears stinging her eyes. I’m trying to protect this family, Chisholm. Why can’t you see that? Because you’re chasing shadows, he said, his voice softening. Please, Adaora, let it go. But Adaora couldn’t let it go. Not now. Not when she was so close to finding out the truth.

The next morning, Adaora decided to confront Malam Musa one last time. She waited until he was alone in the garden, away from the house. Her heart pounded as she approached him, but she pushed her nerves aside. Malam Musa, she called. He turned to face her, his expression calm as always. Madam, I need you to tell me the truth, she said, stepping closer.

Why are you really here? And don’t tell me it’s just to work. He frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing. Madam, I do not understand what you mean. Yes, you do, Adaora said, her voice shaking with emotion. You’ve been lying since the day you got here. I want to know why. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he sighed, his shoulders relaxing.

Madam, I am here because your husband’s father sent me. That is the truth. Why? Adaora pressed. Why did he send you? What does he want? Malam Musa looked away, his expression unreadable. He wanted me to make sure everything was in order. In order? Adaora repeated, her voice rising. What does that mean? In order for what? Before he could answer, they were interrupted by the sound of Chisholm’s voice.

Adaora, what are you doing? Adaora turned to see Chisholm striding toward them, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. I’m trying to get answers, she said, her voice trembling. Answers to what? Chisholm demanded. “Why are you harassing him?” “I’m not harassing him.” Adaora shot back. “I’m trying to figure out why your father sent him here.

” Chisholm froze, his eyes flicking between Adaora and Malam Musa. For the first time, he looked unsure of himself. “What is going on, Chisholm?” Adaora pressed. “Do you know something I don’t?” Chisholm opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he turned and walked away, leaving Adaora standing in the garden, more confused than ever.

Adaora stormed into the house, her heart racing. She could still see the look on Chisholm’s face when she had pressed him for answers. The hesitation, the guilt, it was all there, plain as day. He knew something, and he was hiding it from her. She clenched her fists, trying to steady her breathing. This wasn’t over. She found him in the living room, pacing back and forth with his hands on his hips.

The moment she stepped in, his eyes snapped to hers, a mixture of frustration and regret. “Chisholm,” Adaora said sharply, “we need to talk. Now.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Adaora, not now.” “Yes, now!” She shouted, her voice trembling. “What is going on? Why did your father send Malam Musa here? And why are you acting like you know something?” “I don’t know anything.

” Chisholm said quickly, but his voice lacked conviction. Adaora stepped closer, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t lie to me, Chisholm. I’m your wife. I deserve the truth.” Chisholm groaned, turning away from her. “It’s not what you think.” “Then what is it?” Adaora pressed, her voice breaking. “Tell me. Why would your father send someone to watch us? Is it about me? Does he not trust me?” “It’s not about trust.

” Chisholm said, finally turning to face her. “It’s complicated.” Edaura let out a bitter laugh. “Complicated? That’s your excuse? You’re hiding something from me and you’re calling it complicated?” Chisholm looked at her, his expression pained. “Edaura, please. Just let it go.” “I can’t.” She said firmly, tears welling in her eyes.

“I can’t let it go because it feels like everyone around me is lying. I don’t even know if I can trust you anymore.” Her words hit Chisholm like a slap. He took a step back, his shoulders slumping. “That’s not fair.” He muttered. “What’s not fair is keeping me in the dark.” Edaura shot back. “If you know something, Chisholm, tell me.

Right now.” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “It’s it’s not my secret to tell.” Edaura froze, her heart sinking. “What do you mean? Whose secret is it?” Chisholm looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.” “Try me.” Edaura challenged, her voice trembling. “Because right now I don’t understand anything.

I don’t understand why a gardener is acting like a spy. I don’t understand why you’re defending him. And I don’t understand why your father thinks it’s okay to send someone to watch us.” Chisholm’s head snapped up, anger flashing in his eyes. “You think I wanted this? You think I’m happy about it? I didn’t ask for any of this, Edaura.

” “Then why are you protecting him?” She demanded. “If you didn’t ask for this, why won’t you stand with me?” “Because he’s my father.” Chisholm shouted, his voice breaking. “And I owe him that much.” Edaura stared at him, stunned. The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Finally, she found her voice. “What does that even mean, Chisholm? What do you owe him? Chisholm looked at her, his expression weary.

I can’t explain it, not yet. Adaora shook her head, tears streaming down her face. You don’t trust me, she whispered. Your father doesn’t trust me, and now I don’t even know if I trust you. Before Chisholm could respond, Adaora turned and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there in silence.

Adaora didn’t stop until she reached the guest bedroom at the far end of the house. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she tried to catch her breath. Her mind was spinning, her chest tight with emotion. Chisholm’s words played over and over in her head. He was protecting his father, but why? What could be so important that he couldn’t tell her? She wiped her tears and straightened up.

If Chisholm wasn’t going to give her answers, she’d find them herself. She grabbed her phone and dialed Ngozi’s number. Madam? Ngozi’s voice came through the line, concerned. Ngozi, Adaora said, her voice shaky but determined. Where is Malam Musa right now? I saw him go toward the study, madam, Ngozi replied. Why? Adaora’s heart skipped a beat.

Stay where you are, Ngozi. I’ll handle this. She hung up and headed straight for the study, her steps quick and purposeful. When she reached the door, she hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the handle. Then, taking a deep breath, she pushed it open. Malam Musa was standing by the window, his back to her.

He turned slowly when he heard the door, his expression calm as always. Madam, he said, inclining his head slightly. Adaora stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. We need to talk, she said, her voice firm. Of course, madam, he replied, his tone polite. “Enough with the games,” Adaora snapped. “I know you’re not just a gardener.

I know you’re here because of Chisim’s father. What I don’t know is why, and I’m not leaving this room until you tell me the truth.” Mallam Musa studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he sighed and gestured toward the chair by the desk. “Please, sit.” “I don’t want to sit,” Adaora said, her arms crossed.

“I want answers.” He nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “Very well. What do you wish to know?” “Why are you here?” Adaora demanded. “Why did Chisim’s father send you? And don’t give me any vague answers this time.” Mallam Musa hesitated, then spoke. “I was sent here to observe, madam. To ensure that everything in this household runs smoothly.

” “Observe?” Adaora repeated, her eyes narrowing. “What does that even mean?” “It means that I was asked to watch over the family,” he said carefully, “to ensure that there are no issues.” Adaora stared at him, her frustration growing. “What kind of issues? Why would there be issues?” Mallam Musa looked away, his jaw tightening.

“I cannot say more, madam.” “Yes, you can,” Adaora said, stepping closer. “You can tell me the truth. I deserve to know.” He met her gaze, his expression conflicted. “I am only doing what I was asked to do.” “By Chisim’s father,” Adaora said, her voice shaking. “Why doesn’t he trust me? Is that what this is about?” “It is not about trust,” Mallam Musa said quietly.

“It is about understanding.” “Understanding what?” Adaora demanded. “What does he need to understand?” Before Mallam Musa could answer, the door burst open, and Chisim stormed in. His eyes darted between Adaora and Malam Musa, anger written all over his face. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, glaring at Adaora.

“I’m trying to get answers,” she shot back, “since you won’t give them to me.” Chisom turned to Malam Musa, his voice low and threatening. “You’re dismissed. Leave us.” Malam Musa hesitated, then gave a small nod and left the room, closing the door behind him. Adaora turned to Chisom, her chest heaving. “You can’t keep protecting him.

I deserve to know the truth.” Chisom sighed, rubbing his temples. “You don’t understand, Adaora. This is bigger than you and me.” “Then explain it to me,” she said, her voice breaking. “Help me understand.” Chisom looked at her, his expression torn. For a moment, it seemed like he might finally tell her the truth, but then he shook his head.

“I can’t,” he said softly, “not yet.” Adaora’s heart sank, and she took a step back. “Then I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered. She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Chisom standing there, alone with his secrets. Adaora sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room, staring at the wall.

The confrontation in the study had left her drained, but her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. The way Chisom had looked at her, torn, frustrated, and guilty, played over and over in her mind. She wanted to believe there was a good reason for his silence, but how could there be? He was her husband. If he couldn’t share the truth with her, what did that mean for their marriage? A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.

She looked up, hesitant to answer. “Adaora.” Chisom’s voice came through the door, low and cautious. “Can we talk?” She hesitated for a moment before responding. “There’s nothing to talk about Chisholm. Yes, there is, he said firmly. Please, just open the door. Adaora sighed and stood, her steps slow and reluctant as she approached the door.

She opened it just enough to see him standing there. His face a mix of regret and determination. What do you want? She asked, her tone flat. I want to fix this, Chisholm said, his voice soft. I don’t want us to keep fighting. Then tell me the truth. Adaora said, crossing her arms. Why is your father meddling in our lives? Why did he send Malam Musa here? If you can’t give me answers, there’s nothing to fix.

Chisholm looked down, his jaw tightening. It’s not that simple. It is that simple, Adaora said sharply. You’re choosing to keep me in the dark and I can’t live like this, Chisholm. I deserve better. He looked up at her, his eyes pleading. You do deserve better, Adaora, but this isn’t just about you and me. It’s about my father, his choices, and the way he sees the world.

I’m trying to protect you. Protect me from what? Adaora demanded. From him? From the truth? What are you so afraid of? Chisholm sighed, leaning against the doorframe. I’m afraid of losing you. Adaora’s heart clenched, but she didn’t let her guard down. You’re losing me now, Chisholm. Every time you lie, every time you defend him, you push me further away.

He reached for her hand, but she pulled back, shaking her head. I can’t do this anymore, she whispered. Not if you keep shutting me out. Adaora, please, Chisholm said, his voice breaking. Just give me time. I’ll fix this. Promise. She stared at him, her resolve wavering, but the pain in her chest reminded her of how far they had drifted.

Time won’t fix this, Chisholm. The truth will. Before he could respond, she closed the door, shutting him out. The next morning, Adaora stayed in the guest room, refusing to come out. She could hear Chisholm moving around the house, his steps heavier than usual. She knew he was hurting, but so was she. Trust was the foundation of any marriage, and theirs was crumbling.

Ngozi knocked softly on the door around midday. “Madam, are you okay?” she asked. Adaora opened the door, offering a weak smile. “I’m fine, Ngozi.” Ngozi hesitated. “You don’t look fine, madam. Can I get you something? Tea? Food?” “No, thank you,” Adaora said, shaking her head. “But can you tell me where Malam Musa is?” Ngozi frowned.

“I saw him by the garage earlier. Why?” Adaora straightened. “I need to talk to him.” Ngozi’s eyes widened. “Madam, are you sure? After everything that happened?” “Yes,” Adaora said firmly. “I need answers, and I’m not waiting for Chisholm or anyone else to give them to me.” Ngozi hesitated, then nodded. “Be careful, madam.

” Adaora found Malam Musa near the garage, sweeping the pathway. He looked up as she approached, his expression calm but guarded. “Madam,” he greeted, inclining his head slightly. “We need to talk,” Adaora said, stopping a few feet away from him. “Of course, madam,” he replied, setting his broom aside.

“No more vague answers,” she said, her voice firm. “No more games. I want the truth. Why are you really here? What does Chisholm’s father want from me?” Malam Musa sighed, his gaze steady. “I am here because your husband’s father asked me to watch over this household. He wanted to make sure everything was in order.

In order for what? Adaora pressed. What is he trying to prove? Malam Musa hesitated, then spoke carefully. He wanted to see how you would handle the pressures of this life, to understand your character. Adaora blinked, stunned. He’s testing me? In a way, yes, Malam Musa admitted. But it was not meant to cause harm. Harm? Adaora laughed bitterly.

Do you have any idea what this has done to me? To my marriage? He doesn’t trust me, does he? It is not about trust, Malam Musa said gently. It is about understanding. He wanted to know if you were strong enough to be part of this family. Adaora stared at him, her chest tightening. Strong enough? What gives him the right to judge me? Malam Musa didn’t answer, his silence more telling than any words.

That evening, Chisim finally broke his silence. He found Adaora sitting in the living room, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out the window. He sat down across from her, his expression weary. I talked to my father, he said quietly. Adaora turned to him, her eyes narrowing. And he admitted it, Chisim said, his voice heavy.

He sent Malam Musa to test you, to see if you were worthy. Adaora felt a wave of anger and hurt wash over her. Worthy? I married you, Chisim. I chose you. And he thinks he has the right to judge me. I know, Chisim said quickly. I told him he was wrong, that he shouldn’t have done this. But you still let it happen, Adaora said, her voice trembling.

You knew, and you didn’t stop it. I didn’t know how, Chisim admitted, his eyes filled with regret. He’s my father, Adaora. I spent my whole life trying to live up to his expectations. I didn’t know how to stand up to him. Adaora shook her head, tears streaming down her face. And now you’ve lost me. “No,” Chisim said, reaching for her hands.

“I don’t want to lose you. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.” She looked at him, her heart breaking. “Then prove it, Chisim. Tell your father to leave us alone. Tell him I don’t need his tests, his judgments, or his approval.” “I will,” Chisim promised, his voice shaking. “I’ll fix this, Adaora. I swear.

” The next morning, the house was quieter than usual. Chisim had left early, telling Adaora he needed to speak with his father in person. He didn’t give her details, but the weight in his voice made it clear this wasn’t just a casual visit. Adaora didn’t stop him. She didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. She sat by the dining table, staring into her untouched cup of tea.

Ngozi moved about the kitchen, but even she seemed to sense the tension in the air and kept her distance. Adaora’s mind raced with questions. What would Chisim say to his father? Would he really stand up for her? For their marriage? And even if he did, could she ever forgive him for letting it go this far? The sound of a knock at the front door jolted her from her thoughts.

She frowned, glancing at the clock. It was too early for visitors. Rising slowly, she made her way to the door and opened it. Standing there, dressed in a crisp agbada, was Chief Okonkwo, Chisim’s father. “Good morning, Adaora,” he said, his voice calm but commanding. Adaora froze, her hand tightening on the doorknob. She hadn’t expected this.

“Good morning, sir,” she said cautiously. “Is Chisim with you?” “No,” he replied, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He called me this morning, told me I needed to come here. Adaora closed the door, her heart pounding. Why? Chief Okonkwo turned to face her, his expression unreadable. He said it was time for me to face the consequences of my actions.

They sat in the living room, the air thick with tension. Adaora perched on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Chief Okonkwo sat across from her, his posture straight, his gaze unwavering. I imagine you have a lot to say to me, he began, his tone even. Adaora hesitated, then lifted her chin.

I do, but I think you should speak first. He nodded as though he had expected that. Fair enough. Let me start by saying I never meant to hurt you, Adaora. My intentions were misguided, but they came from a place of concern. Concern? Adaora repeated, her voice sharp. You sent someone to spy on me, to test me. That’s not concern, sir.

That’s control. Chief Okonkwo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt. When Chisim told me he was getting married, I was skeptical. You must understand, Adaora, I’ve seen how money changes people, how it brings out the worst in them. I needed to be sure that you were different.

And you thought the best way to do that was to deceive me? Adaora asked, her voice trembling. To invade my life and my marriage? I was wrong, he admitted, his voice quieter now. I see that now. Chisim made me realize how much damage I’ve caused, not just to you, but to him as well. Adaora stared at him, her emotions swirling. She wanted to believe him, but the pain of his actions was still fresh.

Do you have Have idea what this has done to me? To us? She asked, her voice breaking. I’ve spent weeks feeling like I was losing my mind. Like I couldn’t trust anyone. Not even my own husband. Chief Okonkwo looked down, his expression heavy with guilt. I was wrong, he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell silent for a moment. The weight of his apology hanging in the air. Finally, Adaora spoke, her tone cautious. What happens now? Chief Okonkwo looked up at her, his gaze steady. Now I step back. I leave your marriage alone. You have proven yourself, Adaora, more than I could have ever imagined.

Adaora’s chest tightened. I didn’t do this to prove myself to you. I did it because I love Chisholm, because I wanted our marriage to work. And it will, Chief Okonkwo said firmly. If you’re willing to give him another chance. She looked away, tears stinging her eyes. He hurt me, too. He knew what you were doing and he didn’t stop it.

How can I trust him after that? He made a mistake, Chief Okonkwo said, his tone softening. But he loves you, Adaora. That much is clear. And he’s willing to fight for you. Isn’t that worth something? Adaora didn’t respond, her mind racing. She wanted to believe in Chisholm, in their love, but the betrayal still lingered. Later that afternoon, Chisholm returned home.

His expression cautious as he stepped into the living room. He stopped when he saw his father sitting on the couch and Adaora standing by the window, her arms crossed. What’s going on? He asked, his voice tentative. I came to apologize, Chief Okonkwo said, standing. To Adaora and to you, Chisholm blinked, clearly caught off guard.

You did? Yes, his father replied, because I was wrong about her, about you, about everything.” Chisim looked at Adaora, his eyes filled with questions. Did he “He told me everything.” Adaora said, her voice steady, “about why he sent Malam Musa, about his so-called test.” Chisim swallowed hard, his gaze dropping. “Adaora, I “I’m not done.

” She interrupted, her tone sharp. “I understand why your father did what he did, even if I don’t agree with it. But you, you’re my husband, Chisim. You’re supposed to be on my side.” “I am on your side.” He said quickly. “I always have been.” “Then why didn’t you tell me the truth?” She demanded. “Why did you let me go through this alone?” “I was scared.

” Chisim admitted, his voice breaking. “I was scared of losing you, of losing everything. I thought I thought if I stayed quiet, it would all go away.” “But it didn’t.” Adaora said, her voice trembling. “And now, I don’t know if I can trust you.” Chisim stepped closer, his eyes pleading. “You can trust me, Adaora.

I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if I have to. Just don’t give up on us.” She stared at him, her heart aching. “You broke my trust, Chisim. That’s not something you can fix overnight.” “I know.” He said, his voice steady. “But I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll earn it back. Just give me the chance.” Chief Okonkwo stepped forward, his expression serious.

“You two have been through a lot because of me. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that love like yours doesn’t come around often. Don’t let my mistakes ruin it.” Adaora looked at Chisim, then at Chief Okonkwo. She could see the regret in their eyes, the sincerity in their words. Slowly, she nodded. “I’ll try.

” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s going to take time.” “That’s all I’m asking for,” Chisim said, relief washing over his face. Chifu Okonkwo smiled faintly. “You’re stronger than I gave you credit for, Adaora. And for that, I am truly sorry.” As the sun set that evening, the house felt lighter, the tension slowly easing. There was still a long way to go, but for the first time in weeks, Adaora felt a glimmer of hope.

They had faced the storm, and now it was time to rebuild.