Nailah Zayed.
Maroudi, Nigeria.
'There's a cold blooded murderer in Maroudi.'
That was the headline of the News for the days that followed.
It was a given, since something like this has never happened before. I've lived in Maroudi all my life, minus the years I spent abroad studying; and I had never a scene like this that scared me for days.
The last time there was a case like this, Zainab Shamaki, the Sultan's wife was framed for murdering her old boss. Of course, that shook Maroudi—I didn't know her then, but I believed she didn't do it.
Especially considering the way the press attacked her, anyone saint would pity her. I still couldn't understand what it felt like to being her shoes until now. While we were all thinking of the effect the press had on her, and the police for cornering her, I don't think much gave thought to how she felt seeing a dead person in such a state.
I still don't know the full details, but as for me, I had never been so scared in my life.
The scene is still fresh in my mind. Every time I think back to that moment, I get sucked in it. I don't remember how I got out of the building and got in the safety of the car, but I remembered seeing Imran through my blurry mind yelling orders at the guards.
"Stop everyone from taking pictures of my wife, do you hear me?" He yelled out, the words sounding like a jumble mess through my head.
That's because even as he said that, I could still see the flashes of camera through the tinted windows of the car. Perhaps, they weren't as much as my mind was making it to be, but, at that moment, I felt like I would be blinded any moment then.
Were they trying to get a picture of my hazed state or of Imran? I wasn't sure.
It seemed as though even he knew they wouldn't stop. So, he turned around to the crowd of people there, his eyes narrowed in slits—it was the first time in my life that I was seeing him upset. No matter, I had never seen him upset before.
And even though he doesn't seem over the roof upset, for him, that's something. Not surprisingly, when he addressed the small crowd there, his tone was calm. "Delete every picture you've taken. And, if you even think of starting rumors with it, you will face the consequence." The threat rang loud; and almost immediately, they were all quick to tuck away their phones and run away.
Clearly, no one wanted to be on his bad side.
How they still have the energy to follow me all the way to the car and take pictures is beyond me. Weren't they fazed by what they saw? Here I am, on the brink of losing consciousness after witnessing that and all they cared about was getting pictures of me.
I wasn't sure what happened afterwards. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of what has been happening so far coupled with the scare I underwent a few minutes ago, but my vision blurred and this time, I ended up passing out cold.
The next time I woke up, I was alone in bed with no one in sight. I knew it had be Imran's work, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed he wasn't there. What more do I expect from him?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
I wonder why I even bother at this point.
I happen to be always after things that make my situation worse than ever. Because even in that state of my body feeling extremely weak—I ignored the tablet and water bottle I saw on the bedside cabinet.
Getting out of bed, my feet were a bit wobbly so I held the cabinet to support myself. I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. And if it were someone else in my shoes, they would look after themselves.
Instead, I made my way to the vanity table where I spotted the TV remote, and without a second thought, switched on the TV in the room. Almost instantly, the room was flooded by the voice of the reporter standing outside the building where the event was held last night. Behind her, there seemed to be other reporters from other channels relaying the news.
"...the entire people of Maroudi shocked by the brutal murder of man whose body was found here, at Riveredge Resort during the event held to commemorate the partnership between Hadi Groups and Fadel Affiliation."
I found myself running my tongue across my chapped lower lips and then swallowing thickly. My hold around the remote tightened, eyes never once leaving the TV as they showed the scene where the body was found. I was surprised they were even allowed to film it—considering Police seemed to be at the scene.
To me though, it only brought back the gruesome memory; though the body wasn't there...the blood was. For me, it came as full package...I could still see it vividly as if I'm staring at it right now.
"—the body of the individual murdered has been identified as Mr. Saif Jabbar; who was the assistant of Mr. Ayaan Fadel, CEO of Fadel Affiliation." I knew that. I couldn't get his bashed, and bloody face out of my eyes no matter how hard I tried. "And it has been concluded that he had been brutally murdered. There's a high chance of something bashing his head with--"
Before she could finish, I hastily turned the TV off, not wanting to hear the glory details. I don't even know why they would bother giving that much details. Isn't it enough to state that he was murdered?
Or maybe, I'm simply too paranoid because I saw it first hand, and now all I could think of was why such a thing would be done. Why now? Why him?
I want to blame it all on Ayaan. Everything has been peaceful until he showed up.
I meant it when I said his presence had flipped everything upside down. However, I couldn't even blame him even if I wanted to.
Like they said, this man is...was his assistant. Though I wasn't completely sane then, I still remember him rushing into the room last night. From the way he froze seeing the body too, I'm certain this is getting to him too.
My head was a jumbled mess as I tried to make sense of it all.
I couldn't stomach anything no matter how hard I tried; and that included the medicine I took on an empty stomach. I ended up puking it all out; at that rate, I would soon puke my intestines out as well.
I'm not sure how long I sat alone in my bed, my mind racing with thoughts that did nothing but make my head ache more. The only conclusion I came to, after all that was, whoever did that must've done it to get back at Ayaan.
But for what exactly?
And the most important question, who did it?
~*~
The following days weren't any easier for me. I thought all it would take was a few days to clear my mind and do the needful...and that maybe, that was the worst it could get. But, I only seem to be jinxing myself even more.
The only good part is, my name wasn't mentioned at all. Despite the number of people there, no one made mention of me being there. It didn't take a genius to know who did it.
Imran. It had to be him.
After all, he had always been good at handling such stuff. Even at the company, such stuff were handled under his care so getting my name off such scandal would've been easier for him even if it was a hassle for others.
The only problem was, the investigation kept hitting a dead end. Whoever it was that did the deed, I doubt it's the first time. It was too clean for it to be the first time; judging by what the reports said.
There was no murder weapon, and as well anything else that would give the person away. It lacked any loophole.
But that only rose my questions.
If the person was capable of eliminating any evidence, why leave the body there? It had to be intentional. For what reason though? To get Ayaan? Why was it placed there of all places?
If Ayaan was the target, then the person not only succeeded in getting to him but us as well—me as well.
It has to be a warning of some sort.
We're facing crisis at the company. Shareholders are pulling out, and stocks are falling. An emergency shareholders meeting is about to be hold, one that everyone was required to be present.
And that's where I'm headed to right now.
Pushing the conference room door open, I wasn't surprised to see that most shareholders were there—though it seemed about half were yet to arrive. The minute I stepped in, they stopped what they were doing and threw curious glances at me whilst murmuring stuff between themselves.
I ignored them, yawing my expression blank as I held my head high and walked to my spot. I couldn't blame them for talking, and judging. It was the first time since the accident happened that I'm being seen in public.
And even though the news of me being there was kept under the wraps, most of them were there and as such knew I was the first person to find the corpse. That was enough to earn me looks...aside from the fact that I disappeared as well.
They probably thought I wasn't going to show up. I didn't want to. But the message of the meeting stressed that everyone had to be there, and so, here I am.
I took the second seat to the right of the head chair, right beside Imran who was already there. I hadn't seen him since that day either, despite practically living under the same roof. That's nothing news, it had always been like that.
However, as I settled down, our gazes met and it felt as though we were exchanging words quietly. His gaze held mind, as if searching to see whether I was alright or not.
I am not. Not in the slightest.
And he seemed to have seen that because his hand met mine under the table, before intertwining them and keeping it on his thigh. It was a small action, but it made my heart leap. I glanced at our intertwined hands, before looking back at him only to see had looked away; pretending as if he had done nothing.
I didn't push it, but instead looked away too and in no time, the meeting room was all filled up. You could sense the tension in the air the minute the Chairman, Imran's father walked in. One glance at his face, and you'd know hell is about to break.
I was surprised to see him there to be honest, he barely attends these meetings. He always leaves I and Imran to be in charge. Him being here though meant business.
I guess the recent activities needs urgent addressing. He tried to hide it, but it was clear he's distressed. That's new, for him that is.
I wonder what drew such emotion out of him.
He stood by his chair, practically glaring daggers at everyone in the room. His eyes met each and everyone of us, before he threw the folder in his hand on the table with a loud thump. "What I want to know, is what the hell you all were doing as this was going on?" He gritted out, the anger in his tone evident.
No one dared to speak up, too scared to say the wrong thing.
The only one that had the guts, and actually dared to speak was Imran. He must've realized too that no one would speak up. Truthfully though, he had never seem to be scared of his father.
"We're trying to rectify the issue at hand. Just give us a week at most, I assure you we'd fix the stocks we're losing and get back the investors--"
"I don't care about that!" His father cut him off, shifting his glare to Imran. Judging from the look he gave him, I knew something big was about to come. And I was right. "What I want, is for you all to explain HOW 150 MILLION DOLLARS DISAPPEARED FROM OUR ACCOUNTS JUST LIKE THAT!!"
Excuse me, what?
A hundred and fifty million what disappeared?