THE DEBT SHE DIDN'T PAY

Peculiar onyedikachi Suspense/Thriller

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*CHAPTER 1: THE 2AM CALL
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The phone screamed at 2:14am.
Lucy Adeleke jolted awake on the thin mattress she shared with her brother Tunde in their one-room apartment in Rumuokwuta, Port Harcourt. The generator outside had just cut, and the room was hot and dark.
The screen said: *Unknown Number*.
She almost ignored it. At this hour it was usually airtime scammers or fake EFCC. But her chest was tight.
“Hello?”
“Lucy Adeleke?” A man’s voice. Hard. Official. “Inspector Bello, Alagbon Police, Lagos. We have your father in custody.”
The floor seemed to drop under her. “My father? Mr. Joseph Adeleke? What... what happened?”
“He’s being charged with fraud. ₦45 million. Company funds. He signed the documents.”
₦45 million. Lucy had never held that much money in her life. Her father was a retired principal. He still haggled over ₦200 tomatoes.
“That’s a mistake,” she said, voice shaking. “There must be a mistake.”
“Come to Alagbon tomorrow. 9am. Or we arraign him Friday.” Click.
Tunde sat up. “Sis? Who was that?”
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
She didn’t sleep. She stared at the ceiling fan that wasn’t moving and counted her savings: ₦18,400.
By 5am she was at Mile 3 Park, boarding the first bus to Lagos. She told her boss at the clinic she had a “family emergency.” She left Tunde with ₦5,000 and their neighbor Mama Nkechi.
The 6-hour journey was hell. She called her dad. Switched off. She called her mom. Switched off too.
Alagbon was grey, tall, and full of people who looked like they’d given up.
Inspector Bello slid a file to her. Inside: bank statements, transfer forms, and her father’s signature. Over and over.
“Your father and two other directors diverted ₦45,000,000 to a private company,” Bello said. “Cole Holdings is pressing charges. If he can’t refund it, minimum 10 years.”
Lucy looked at the signature. It was close. But her father’s real signature had a loop on the J. This one didn’t.
“Can I see him?”
They brought Joseph Adeleke in. He looked smaller. Grey hair, sunken eyes.
“My Lucy,” he whispered, holding her hands. “I didn’t do it.”
“Daddy, then who did?”
“Richard Cole. The new MD. I reported him for inflating contracts 3 years ago. He never forgot.”
He explained: Last month he was called to “sign retirement clearance.” A whole stack. He didn’t read. Why would he? 25 years of service.
“Do you have proof?” Lucy asked.
He shook his head. “Just my word.”
On the bus back to Yaba, Lucy cried silently. ₦45 million. Even selling their house in Port Harcourt wouldn’t be enough.
That night in a ₦8,000 hotel room, she made a vow. She would find who did this. Even if it killed her.
#### *CHAPTER 2: THE MAN IN THE BLACK RANGE*
_∼1000 words_
Lagos swallowed her.
Day 1: Cole Holdings. The security said “No visitors without appointment.”
Day 2: She waited outside from 7am to 6pm.
At 5:42pm he came out.
*Richard Cole.*
40 years old. Tailored navy suit. Gold watch. Hair cut clean. He walked like the ground belonged to him.
Lucy followed. Her heart was in her mouth. She took two buses to trail his black Range Rover to an upscale restaurant in VI.
Through the glass, she saw him with a woman in a red dress. Laughing. Drinking wine that cost more than Lucy’s monthly salary.
Then she heard it.
“Relax, babe,” Richard said. “The old man will rot in Kirikiri. By next month the case is closed. That signature was perfect.”
The woman giggled. “You’re terrible.”
“I’m rich,” Richard corrected, cutting steak.
Lucy’s hands shook so badly she could only record 8 seconds before hiding her phone.
Proof. Not perfect, but proof.
Inspector Bello watched the video the next morning and shrugged. “He didn’t say a crime. This won’t hold in court.”
Lucy left the station feeling stupid.
“Lucy Adeleke?”
She turned. A guy around 25, plain shirt, laptop bag, tired eyes.
“I’m David Okoro. I used to be IT at Cole Holdings. I heard about your dad. I think Richard is dirty. And I think I can help you prove it.”
They sat at a buka. David told her he was fired for “asking questions about the finance server.”
“I made backups,” he said. “Before they locked me out.”
He opened his laptop. Spreadsheets. Es. Transfer logs.
March 14. ₦45,000,000. From Cole Holdings to “Bright Future Consulting Ltd.”
Authorized: R. Cole.
“But the police said my dad signed,” Lucy said.
David zoomed in. “Because he forged it. See these pixels? This is a scanned signature pasted onto a PDF. Real signatures don’t have this edge.”
Lucy felt something for the first time in days: hope.
“We can’t just

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