Chapter 3 - The Midnight NotebookThat evening, after the dinner guests had departed and the champagne bottles had been tossed into the kitchen bin, Vanessa summoned me to the grand foyer.
“Mama Grace,” Vanessa snapped, crossing her arms as she looked down her nose at me. “One of my diamond tennis bracelets is missing from my vanity upstairs. You were the only cleaner in that wing today. Empty your bag. Right now.”
I didn't argue. I didn't cry or beg for mercy, the way a terrified, low-wage cleaner from the agency was expected to do.
With slow, deliberate movements, I unzipped my faded canvas bag and tipped it upside down onto the Italian marble floor.
A handful of cheap plastic hair clips, a small bottle of eucalyptus oil, a handkerchief, and a small black leather notebook tumbled out.
Vanessa scoffed, kicking the contents aside with her designer slipper. “Useless trash. Check the pockets of your uniform!”
“There is nothing else, madam,” I said softly, my voice completely devoid of emotion.
“Get out of my sight,” Vanessa sneered. “Be back by six tomorrow morning. And if I find anything missing again, I’ll have you blacklisted from every employment agency in Lagos.”
I knelt down, slowly gathering my belongings one by one. My fingers brushed against the small black notebook lying against the marble tile.
As I tucked it securely into the pocket of my cotton tunic, I looked up at Vanessa with eyes so dark and heavy that she instinctively took half a step backward.
“Goodnight, madam,” I whispered, turning toward the staff exit.
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What Vanessa didn't know—what none of them knew—was that every single conversation, every fraudulent shell company name mentioned by Emeka, and every date of their planned legal conspiracy was meticulously recorded in that black notebook.
And my agency wasn't just a domestic staffing firm. It was Okafor Intelligence & Security Ltd.—a corporate investigations unit I had founded decades ago.
