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Case of the secret scratchers

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The price of a soft life

The phone in my hand, still warm from my daughter's grip, flashed with a demanding new text. "I am ready. Send me the address now. Don’t keep me waiting, baby." I quickly typed a reply in my husband's voice: “Baby girl, go wait for me at this place. I changed the location because my wife might have seen the first message. I’ll be with you shortly. And yes, the room is already booked — just give them my name and you’ll get the key.” The address I sent was the Grand Lux Hotel, the most expensive palace in the city. I deleted the message immediately and turned my attention to Daniel, who was already restless, looking for an escape. I smiled sweetly, linking my arm through his. “Baby, it’s so rare that you’re home today. Why don’t we drop all the distractions and just focus on the family for once?” He hesitated, his eyes darting to his phone's charging spot. “But… I have business to handle.” “So you’re saying business is more important than your family?” I countered, my voice laced with gentle disappointment. He surrendered quickly. "No phones—just family bonding. I promise." The trap was set. My husband was contained, and the girl was heading for a feast she thought was free—a feast that would later come with an unforgettable ₦2.5 million bill. They were about to learn that the most dangerous woman in their lives wasn't the one who screamed, but the one who watched, waited, and set the price of their mistakes.