Chapter 3 Noise in the Shadows

The walk back from Ikoyi to Ajegunle felt longer than usual, even though she had squeezed herself into two danfo buses and half-ran part of the way. Her shoulders ached. Her feet stung. But Adanna's mind was too loud to care.

The image of Grace's perfectly powdered face and harsh words haunted her like a recurring nightmare.

"This is not your home. You were never meant to come here."

Even now, as Adanna walked the muddy streets of her neighborhood, sidestepping puddles and avoiding okadas zooming past, that single sentence looped in her head. Her heart didn't just ache - it boiled.

She reached their one-room face-me-I-face-you apartment just as the sky threatened another burst of rain. Her aunty, Mama Peace, was sitting in her wrapper at the front of the building, picking beans with her usual sour look.

"Where you dey since morning?" she barked before Adanna could slip past her.

Adanna wiped her face with her scarf. "I went to the library."

Mama Peace didn't believe it, but she was too tired to argue. "Go fetch water before NEPA takes light. I no go pity you if you no baff."

Inside the room, Adanna dropped her small nylon bag, pulled out the folded letter from her mother, and stared at it again. She knew what she had to do. Hiding in this house wasn't the plan. Keeping quiet wasn't in her blood.

If they wouldn't acknowledge her privately, she'd make it public.

Later That Night...

Adanna couldn't sleep. Her mat scratched at her back, the ceiling fan blades didn't spin because there was no light, and the walls felt like they were closing in.

She rolled over, pulled out her school notebook, and tore a clean page from the back. With the tip of her worn pencil, she wrote:

Operation: Be Heard

Under it, she listed:

Go viral. Find someone who will listen. Make them speak my name. Do not stop.

She smiled bitterly. It felt childish on paper, but it was all she had.

She needed help. Someone who could tell her story and shake the ground where the Ikennas stood. But who?

She thought of her classmate Zinny - bold, fast-talking, always plugged into the latest gossip.

Yes. Zinny would know what to do.

The Next Day at School

"Wait. You went to their mansion? In Ikoyi?" Zinny whispered so sharply her eyes almost bulged out of her face.

They stood under the almond tree near the staffroom, where no teacher could hear them.

"Yes. I saw her. His wife. Grace. She called me a mistake. She said I was nothing."

Zinny's mouth twisted. "That witch."

"You believe me?" Adanna asked.

Zinny scoffed. "Of course I do. That photo? That letter from your mum? It's real. The resemblance is mad."

Adanna clutched the small brown envelope in her bag where the documents sat. She hadn't even dared show it to Mama Peace. She needed someone outside - someone who could make it loud.

"You know anyone online who can help me post this?" she asked.

Zinny tapped her lip. "Actually... yeah. My cousin's guy runs a blog. HotGistNaija. It's not Linda Ikeji level, but trust me - anything he posts blows up in hours."

Adanna's heart thumped. "Can you talk to him?"

Zinny grinned. "I'll do more than talk. I'll get him to post it. But you need to be sure, babe. Once this goes up, there's no going back."

"I'm ready."

Meeting the Blogger

By Friday, Zinny had arranged the meetup behind her cousin's electronics shop in Surulere. The blogger - a lean guy named Martins with a goatee and a phone that looked more expensive than his shirt - sized Adanna up the moment he saw her.

"So you're the billionaire's secret daughter?" he asked with a smirk.

"I'm the daughter he abandoned," Adanna corrected, her eyes sharp.

Martins leaned back on the bench, clearly amused. "You've got fire. I like that. But the streets don't care about pity. They care about drama. You sure you want this out there?"

"I want them to see my face when they scroll," she said. "I want them to know I exist."

She pulled out the letter. The photo. Her school ID.

He read the letter, squinted at the old photo, then checked the date on the letter. His smirk faded.

"This is hot. If I post this right, we're talking major traction. Like ten-thousand-clicks-in-an-hour kind of heat."

"Then post it," she said.

Martins gave her a look of respect. "Alright. But don't come crying if this gets messy."

"I don't cry."

That Night: The Internet Explodes

At exactly 9:07 PM, the post went live.

🟥 BREAKING: Teen Girl Claims to Be Billionaire Chief Eze Ikenna's Abandoned First Daughter!

With proof in hand, young Adanna Ifeoma from Ajegunle says she was hidden from the world by Nigeria's oil tycoon and his wife, Grace Ikenna. She brings a letter from her late mother and a family photo as evidence. Full story inside.

Within fifteen minutes, her phone began buzzing like it never had before.

Zinny called her.

"Babe, your post just hit 5k likes on Instagram. Twitter is going mad. People are already digging into your Facebook!"

Adanna opened her borrowed phone's browser and clicked the link Zinny had sent.

She saw her own face staring back - the photo of her in her school uniform, the image of the old love letter, and a headline screaming her truth.

Her hands shook. Not from fear, but from adrenaline.

She had done it. The world was listening now.

Chief Eze's phone didn't stop ringing.

The first call came from his media consultant. The second from a board member at his company. The third from the Minister of Petroleum himself.

And they all said the same thing.

"You need to fix this. Fast."

The billionaire stood in his private office, fists clenched behind his back, staring out through floor-length glass at the lights of Lagos Island. His face was hard. Dark. Not even the usual tightness of his Italian suit could hold back the tension building in his chest.

He turned slowly to the large screen on the wall. A news alert was flashing from multiple gossip sites:

"SECRET CHILD? OIL TYCOON FACES SCANDAL AS GIRL CLAIMS BLOOD TIES!"

"PHOTOS LEAKED - GIRL FROM SLUM CLAIMS TO BE BILLIONAIRE'S DAUGHTER"

"GRACE IKENNA UNDER FIRE AS INTERNET DEMANDS DNA TEST"

He grabbed the remote and threw it across the room.

The door creaked open behind him.

Grace stepped in slowly, heels clicking against the marble floor.

"I warned you," she said coldly. "I told you she was trouble."

Chief Eze didn't turn. "You told me she was dead."

Grace folded her arms. "I thought she was. I paid your precious mistress well to disappear. Clearly, she failed."

"Her name was Adaobi," he said softly. "And she was the only person who ever loved me without a price tag."

Grace scoffed. "Then go dig her up and marry her bones. What matters now is the girl. She's dragging your name through the gutter. Through mine."

Eze turned now, eyes blazing. "You made this mess worse. You humiliated her. She was a child looking for her father, and you slammed the door in her face."

"You think hugging her would've made this go away?" Grace snapped. "You're naïve. That girl came with war. And now we're in it."

Eze slammed his fist into the desk. "Then we end it. Whatever it takes - shut this down. I want her gone from the media by tomorrow."

Grace's lips curled. "Consider it handled."

Meanwhile... Back in Ajegunle

Adanna woke up to chaos.

Outside their apartment, neighbors were gathered around someone's phone, pointing and murmuring. Mama Peace's voice was rising above the crowd.

"Una dey mad? This girl no be thief! She be my niece! Leave her name out of your gossip!"

Inside, Adanna was barely dressed, brushing her hair in front of the cracked mirror when Zinny burst into the room without knocking.

"Girl! You are trending in three countries!" she shouted.

"What?!"

"Cameroon, Ghana, and UK blogs have started picking it up! They're calling you The Rejected Heiress! It's insane!"

Adanna laughed, half shocked, half scared. "Rejected Heiress? Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?"

"It's a brand name now," Zinny grinned. "You've become a symbol. People are calling you bold. Brave. And some even think you're lying."

Adanna's smile faded. "Lying?"

"Of course. They're rich. You're poor. The world always doubts the underdog."

Zinny sat beside her and handed her a bottle of Sprite. "Brace yourself. The media circus is only starting."

Adanna's phone buzzed again. Another unknown number.

She ignored it.

Threats in the Inbox

By evening, Adanna had set up a temporary email address - AdannaTruth@gmail.com - to handle the flood of messages. Zinny helped her filter through them.

Among the hundreds of emails were:

A proposal from a journalist at Pulse.ng wanting an exclusive interview. A message from a PR firm offering to "manage her public image." And five anonymous threats.

"Shut up before you get hurt."

"You're playing with people who don't joke."

"Go back to the gutter you came from."

Zinny stared at the screen. "You need protection."

"I don't have anyone to protect me."

"You have me."

Adanna smiled weakly. "That's not enough."

That night, she tried to sleep but kept hearing footsteps outside the window. She bolted upright three times before finally clutching her mother's letter like a shield and whispering, "Help me, Mama. I don't know what to do."

A Voice in the Dark

The next day, around noon, Zinny rushed into their backyard with her eyes wide.

"Someone just dropped this with the gate man," she said, holding out a small package.

Adanna unwrapped it cautiously. Inside was an old flip phone - and a note.

"Don't use your SIM. This line is safe. Someone wants to help you."

She exchanged glances with Zinny. Then she powered on the phone.

After a few seconds, it lit up and vibrated.

Incoming call.

She answered, hand shaking slightly.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was female, smooth, commanding.

"Adanna. You don't know me, but I knew your mother."

Adanna froze. "Who are you?"

"My name is Onari Iweka. I was your father's personal assistant for four years. I know the secrets. I know what Grace did. And I know exactly how to take them down."

Adanna's breath caught. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because he betrayed me, too."

Adanna pressed the phone closer to her ear. She wasn't sure if the heat rushing through her chest was fear or hope.

"You knew my mother?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," the woman on the other end replied. "Adaobi was a light. Soft-spoken, but not weak. She loved fiercely - especially when it came to you."

Adanna felt tears pressing behind her eyes. "You knew about me?"

"I did," said Onari. "Your father told me about you after your mother's funeral. But Grace... she forced him to bury it all. She had too much to lose - her name, her status, and especially her hold over his wealth."

"So you believe me?" Adanna asked.

"I more than believe you," Onari said. "I have proof."

Adanna's heart skipped. "Proof of what?"

There was a pause. Then Onari's voice dropped lower.

"I have recordings. Documents. Bank transfers. Hidden medical records. All showing how Grace manipulated your father and even faked legal papers to keep you out of his will."

Adanna's legs gave way and she sat down slowly on the wooden bench beside the room.

"I-I don't even know what to say."

"Don't say anything yet," Onari said. "Just listen. I'm going to send you something. An address. Come alone. Tell no one - not even your friend. I'll show you everything."

"Why the secrecy?" Adanna asked cautiously.

"Because if they know I'm helping you, I won't be alive to help you again."

The Drop-Off at School

The next morning was tense. Adanna didn't tell Zinny anything about the call. She knew her friend meant well, but she needed to play this smart. Her life was spinning too fast now, and she couldn't afford to risk it.

During second break, the school gatekeeper knocked on her classroom door.

"You. Come," he pointed. "Someone drop envelope for you."

The envelope was plain, sealed, with her name scribbled in small cursive.

She waited until she was in the girl's toilet before opening it.

Inside: a USB flash drive and a folded note.

"Play this only on a secure laptop. Not at home. Not in school. Don't trust anyone watching. - O."

Her fingers trembled.

Back in class, Zinny gave her a strange look. "You okay? You've been jumpy since morning."

"I'm fine," Adanna lied.

But she wasn't. Something big was happening - and for the first time, she wasn't sure who was playing the game.

Inside the Flash Drive

That evening, she went to the cyber café down the road. It was noisy, hot, and smelled of fried groundnut oil - but it had computers, privacy booths, and a generator that always ran.

She paid for thirty minutes and sat at the farthest booth.

She plugged in the USB.

A folder popped up. Inside, there were two audio files, three PDFs, and one labeled "For Adanna Only - WATCH FIRST.mp4."

She clicked the video.

Onari appeared on screen. She was in her forties, dark-skinned, sharp-eyed, wearing a navy blue suit. She looked like a woman who didn't flinch.

"Adanna. If you're watching this, it means I've decided to trust you. What I'm giving you is dangerous. Powerful. And if used right, it will tear open every lie Grace Ikenna ever built."

"Your mother was forced into silence. I watched it happen. And I couldn't stop it. But I swore that if her daughter ever found the courage to speak, I'd help her scream."

Adanna's eyes burned. She pressed play on the next audio file.

It was a recording. A man's voice - Chief Eze's - speaking low and nervous.

"Grace told me to deny it. She said if I claim that girl, she'd leave and take everything. I didn't have a choice."

"She burned the papers... said the past is dead. But Adaobi's letter - I kept it. I swear I kept it..."

Adanna covered her mouth, trembling.

This was it. Real, living evidence. Her father admitting everything.

The other PDFs were scans of medical bills from a clinic in Surulere - the same one her mother had died in - listing Chief Eze as the emergency contact. One was a record of a payment to Grace's private detective months before Adaobi's death.

Onari wasn't lying.

Adanna had the truth in her hand.

Meanwhile... Inside the Ikenna Mansion

Grace Ikenna sat at her vanity table, eyes scanning her tablet. Her team had sent her updates by the hour.

The online storm wasn't dying down - it was spreading like wildfire.

Adanna's story had now reached BBC Africa and Al Jazeera, thanks to a retweet from a South African celebrity who called her "a symbol of every girl silenced by power."

Grace's face tightened.

She was used to scandals. She had spun cheating rumors, crushed business rivals, and even buried old family feuds under polished press releases.

But this girl was different.

She had heart. She had proof. She had a name people were beginning to chant.

Adanna. Adanna. Adanna.

Grace closed her eyes.

"Enough," she whispered.

She picked up her phone and dialed a number saved under "Cleaner."

"Find her. Watch her. If she meets with anyone named Onari - eliminate both."

A Stranger in the Rain

By the weekend, Adanna received another message on the secret phone. It was a time and location.

"Come alone. Sunday. 3PM. 32 Bode Thomas, back gate. Knock twice, pause, then knock once."

She showed up early. It had rained that afternoon, and the streets were slippery. The gate was painted black with no sign, just like the message said.

She knocked.

Twice. Pause. Once.

A tall woman with braids opened. Onari.

"You came," she said, stepping aside.

Inside, the compound was quiet. A small apartment building stood in the back, where she led Adanna to a sitting room filled with boxes and two laptops.

"I don't stay in one place long," Onari explained. "But I wanted to look you in the eyes."

Adanna sat.

"Why me?" she asked. "Why not go to the press yourself?"

"Because I was paid off," Onari admitted. "Years ago. I signed NDAs. I kept quiet. But my silence didn't save Adaobi. It killed her. I won't let it kill you too."

Adanna stared at her. "What do I do now?"

Onari placed a small envelope in her hand.

"Use this. When the time is right."

Adanna opened it. Inside was a copy of her birth certificate - the original one, bearing Chief Eze Ikenna's name as father.

Adanna felt her chest tighten.

Tears gathered in her eyes.

"You have one shot to expose them," Onari said. "Don't miss."

That night, Adanna stood by the small open window of her room, the wind whistling through torn mosquito netting. Her eyes stared at the stars above the slums of Ajegunle.

She had proof now.

She had a name.

She had a voice.

And she was no longer afraid.

Let them come.