Chapter 7: Power and Payback

Zainab offend Bisi sharp-sharp as she enter compound, so her green tag just block for one month.

Word spread quickly—Bisi’s clique celebrated quietly, sharing kola and laughter by the kitchen. Zainab sulked, pretending not to care.

According to Zainab, na on purpose—the harder to get, the more chief go value am.

She boasted to the other maids, chest out, voice high. Some believed her, others just rolled their eyes.

I use that one month to study like say WAEC dey tomorrow.

I buried myself in Zainab’s old books, practicing her handwriting, copying her mannerisms, learning the art of power.

Before, na only punishment make me copy book in her handwriting, na so I learn small small.

My fingers ached, but I forced myself. I would not waste this new chance.

Now, as I get chance, I read all the books Zainab keep for show.

I devoured them—history, poetry, old love letters. Each page a stepping stone.

So, for that night for chief’s bedroom, when chief recite, "Eyebrows need not be drawn by Adebayo, Heaven makes them long at the temples," I no ask who Adebayo be, as Zainab do before. Instead, I just blush, reach for chief’s belt.

He smiled, surprised, pleased by my knowledge. The bed creaked, laughter rising. I matched him line for line, no longer the silent shadow in the corner.

"We young together—make we no waste this good time."

I said it boldly, daring him to take me seriously. My heart thundered, but I held my ground.

Chief no fit resist, just carry me enter bed.

His hands warm, his eyes hungry. The room filled with the scent of jasmine and old secrets. I let myself want what I’d always been denied.

Nobody know how, as small maid, I dey admire chief.

My crush had been my own secret, hidden behind forced smiles and lowered eyes. Now, it was alive, breathing, burning.

I dey wish for him love, for power, dey dream everyday to sit for queen’s seat.

In my heart, I built castles with him, dreaming of a life beyond chores and punishment.

Sometimes I go even dream say I get chief love, Zainab dey wash my leg.

That dream felt wicked, delicious. I would wake sweating, ashamed, but always wanting more.

When I wake, I go slap myself two times, force my smile hide again.

I hid my longing well—no one could guess. In this house, hope was dangerous.

But today, chief sleep for my bed, dey open my wrapper.

His touch gentle, his words soft. I let myself feel, for once, truly seen.

All those years of hidden dream, come true for my eye.

I lay still, letting joy and fear mingle. My old life felt far away, unreachable.

How I go waste this chance?

I vowed, right then, never to go back—not for anyone, not even madam.