Mariaa

The days following Chief Bakare's demise were quiet, eerily so. Maria monitored the news like a hawk, flipping through channels and scrolling through online articles. The media speculated on his sudden death, attributing it to natural causes. There were murmurs of his overindulgent lifestyle catching up with him. No one suspected foul play. Maria allowed herself a small smile; her work remained a ghost in the shadows, untouched and undetected.

But Maria knew she couldn't rest on her laurels. The quiet was deceptive. Lagos had a way of burying secrets, but the city's undercurrent of chaos meant anything could resurface at any moment. And so, Maria began planning her next move.

Her apartment had become both a sanctuary and war room. The corkboard in her closet now bore the photo of her next target: Senator Jide Afolabi. A man whose public persona was one of generosity and progress, yet whose private dealings were riddled with exploitation and cruelty. Maria had spent weeks gathering intel on him. His routines, his weaknesses, and most importantly his vices.

Maria sipped her coffee, staring at the Senator's photograph. "You'll be my masterpiece," she murmured.

Two days later, Maria sat in the backseat of a black ride-hailing car, her hands resting lightly on a clutch that concealed her tools. She had learned that Senator Afolabi frequented an exclusive lounge in Victoria Island every Thursday evening. It was his haven, a place where he conducted both business and pleasure away from prying eyes. Maria had chosen this night to observe him in his natural habitat, gathering final details to perfect her approach.

The lounge exuded opulence, its dim lighting and plush furniture creating an intimate atmosphere. The air smelled of expensive cigars and aged whiskey. Maria walked in with quiet confidence, her red dress clinging to her like a second skin. Heads turned as she passed, but she paid them no mind. Her focus was on the man seated in a corner booth, surrounded by his entourage.

Senator Afolabi was as she'd expected: loud, domineering, and self-assured. He held court at the table, laughing boisterously as he recounted a story. Maria noted the way his companions responded to him with forced laughter, eager nods. They feared him more than they respected him. It was a dynamic Maria could exploit.

She found a seat at the bar, ordering a glass of wine while keeping her target in her peripheral vision. Her patience was rewarded when, after an hour, the Senator dismissed his entourage and retreated to a private room upstairs. Maria waited a few minutes before following. She'd seen enough to know that the Senator had a pattern: he would spend an hour alone, making calls and drinking, before inviting a guest of his choosing to join him.

Maria wasn't going to wait for an invitation.

The hallway leading to the private rooms was quiet, lined with doors marked by gold plaques. Maria's heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she approached Room 3. She knocked lightly, her heart steady. Moments later, the door opened, and Senator Afolabi's expression shifted from surprise to intrigue.

"Good evening," Maria said, her voice smooth and warm. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Afolabi's eyes swept over her, his ego clearly flattered. "Not at all. And who might you be?"

"Maria," she said simply, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I've heard so much about you, Senator. I thought it was time we met."

Afolabi chuckled, closing the door behind her. "Well, Maria, it's not every day a beautiful woman seeks me out. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Maria smiled, her eyes locking onto his. "Curiosity. I wanted to see if the stories about you are true."

"And what stories are those?" he asked, his tone playful.

"That you're a man who gets what he wants," Maria replied, stepping closer. "A man who's used to being in control."

Afolabi's grin widened, his chest puffing slightly. "I suppose that's accurate. And what about you, Maria? What do you want?"

Maria tilted her head, feigning contemplation. "I'm still deciding. Maybe you can help me figure it out."

The Senator laughed, gesturing for her to sit. Maria took the chair closest to him, crossing her legs elegantly. Afolabi poured them both drinks, his guard lowering with each passing moment. Maria accepted the glass he handed her, though she had no intention of drinking it.

They talked, their conversation a dance of veiled intentions and calculated flattery. Maria steered the dialogue skillfully, learning more about Afolabi's weaknesses. He was predictable, driven by vanity and a need to dominate. It was almost too easy.

When Maria finally left the lounge that night, she felt a sense of satisfaction. The groundwork had been laid. Now it was time to execute her plan.

The next evening, she sent a message to Afolabi through an encrypted platform. She'd created a digital persona, complete with a profile picture and fabricated details, to lure him in. The message was simple: Last night was intriguing. I'd like to see you again. Discreetly.

Afolabi responded within minutes, his eagerness evident. They arranged to meet at a private villa he owned on the outskirts of the city. Maria chose the location carefully, knowing it would provide the seclusion she needed.

The villa was an architectural masterpiece, surrounded by tall gates and lush gardens. Maria arrived just after sunset, her demeanor calm and composed. Afolabi greeted her at the door, his expression a mix of anticipation and arrogance.

"You didn't keep me waiting long," he said, leading her inside.

"I hate wasting time," Maria replied, her tone light.

The interior of the villa was as grand as its exterior, but Maria paid little attention to the decor. Her focus was on the task at hand. Afolabi poured them drinks again, and this time Maria subtly switched their glasses when he wasn't looking. The sedative she'd prepared was odorless and tasteless, designed to act quickly.

As they sat on the plush sofa, Afolabi began to slur his words, his movements becoming sluggish. Maria leaned in, placing a hand on his arm. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked, feigning concern.

"I… I don't know," he muttered, his eyelids drooping. Within moments, he was unconscious.

Maria worked swiftly, retrieving a small vial from her bag. The substance inside was lethal but untraceable, another tool from her growing arsenal. She administered the dose with precision, ensuring there would be no sign of foul play.

Before leaving, Maria wiped down every surface she'd touched and adjusted Afolabi's position to make it appear as though he'd simply fallen asleep. She exited the villa as quietly as she'd arrived, her heart steady and her mind clear.

The next morning, news of Senator Afolabi's death spread like wildfire. Headlines spoke of a "tragic heart attack," and politicians offered their condolences. Maria watched it all unfold from the comfort of her living room, her expression unreadable.

She knew the risks were escalating, that each success brought her closer to exposure. But she also knew she couldn't stop. Not yet. The hunt was no longer just about justice, it had become a part of her, a dark and inescapable instinct.

Maria leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting to the corkboard. There was already another photograph waiting to be pinned, another name to be crossed off her list. She picked up the photo, studying it carefully.

"Your turn," she whispered.