Angela changed completely after that day. She woke up the next morning with a new kind of energy pulsing through her veins. Not fear, not nervousness, but something darker. Something quiet and cold.
She went about her duties that morning with the same precision as always. Mr. Bayo remained his usual self, calm, distant, and polite.
That afternoon, she was in the kitchen preparing his lunch. Jollof rice with grilled chicken and steamed vegetables. The aroma filled the house, just the way her boss liked it.
When the food was ready, she dished out a portion into his serving plate. She arranged it neatly, just like she always did. Then, she glanced toward the kitchen door to be sure it was closed.
And without a second thought, she leaned over the plate and spat into the food. Not a lot. Just enough to satisfy the bitterness burning inside her.
She watched the saliva sink into the warm rice. She stirred it in gently, cleaned the edges of the plate, and added the grilled chicken on top. She took a deep breath, picked up the tray, and carried it to the dining room where Mr. Bayo was already waiting, his fingers tapping lightly on the table.
“Your lunch, sir,” she said, setting the tray in front of him. “Thank you, Angela,” he replied, picked up the fork and began to eat, chewing slowly, his expression thoughtful.
“This is very good,” he said after the second bite. Angela smiled. “I’m glad you like it, sir.”
When Mr. Bayo was done eating, he pushed the plate slightly forward and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “You have a good hand,” he said. “It’s hard to find staff who are this consistent. I appreciate it.” “Thank you sir,” Angela said again, forcing her voice to stay even.
Later that night, she stood by her window, staring into the quiet compound. She thought of her parents again. Her father’s-tired eyes. Her mother’s quiet sobs. The empty chairs that had never been filled again. The birthdays she spent alone. The nights she had gone to bed hungry.
Then she thought of the man sitting comfortably in the living room, sipping juice, probably reading through voice messages from business partners. “He doesn’t deserve this peace”, she muttered to herself
After that day, Angela continued to spit into her Boss’ food every day, before serving him and he ate innocently, unaware of what was going on. This went on for weeks. Somehow, it made her feel better, thinking she was avenging her parent’s death
One day, she decided to take it a step further, the fire of revenge burning in her. She wanted to prepare his usual cup of coffee. She filled the kettle and turned it on, then stepped to the sink.
She fetched a bowl of water from the sink and washed her dirty hands inside it. When she was done, she poured some of the dirty water directly into the clean mug meant for Mr. Bayo’s coffee.
Then, she poured the hot coffee into the mug, gave it a gentle swirl, after which she placed it neatly on the breakfast tray, with the toast and eggs she had prepared earlier.
“Good morning, sir,” she said as she entered the dining area. “Ah, Angela. Right on time as usual. Smells good” Mr. Bayo replied with a small smile. “Thank you, sir. It’s Toast and eggs, and your coffee, just the way you like it,” Angela said with a smile
She placed the tray in front of him and stood back, watching as he sipped the coffee. “Mmm, perfect,” he murmured. Angela turned away and walked calmly back to the kitchen, but her eyes flashed with quiet satisfaction.
By afternoon, things began to change. Mr. Bayo called out weakly from his room around 2 p.m., asking for warm water and painkillers. His daughter, Dorcas who had visited that afternoon, responded first. Angela stood outside the door, pretending to dust the hallway as she listened.
“My stomach,” Mr. Bayo groaned in pain. “I don’t know… it started after breakfast” he added
Angela peeked through the slightly open door. He was pale and sweating. She didn’t expect it to hit him this hard, but she felt no guilt. Just a dull ache of satisfaction. Dorcas helped him lie down, placed a cold towel on his forehead, and called the driver to get the car ready.
Within an hour, Mr. Bayo was rushed to the hospital and he was eventually admitted and placed on Intravenous fluids. The doctor said it was a mild case of food poisoning.
That night, when Dorcas returned to the house to get some clothes for her father, she called Angela into the kitchen. “What happened and how did you prepare his breakfast today?” she asked, eyes narrowed.
“Did you wash everything well? No expired milk or anything?” “No milk ma. He takes his coffee black,” Angela said smoothly. Dorcas nodded slowly; her eyes still fixed on Angela’s face. “That’s strange. He doesn’t fall sick like that. Never,” she said, now looking confused.
There was a long silence between them. Then Dorcas said, “Be careful, Angela. My father is not just any man. He has people watching over him. Don’t do anything that will bring you trouble.”
“Yes ma,” Angela replied quietly.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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