First published in the 8th edition of the Crusaders Christian Magazine themed Righteousness.

My palms felt clammy as I knocked on the door of the private boardroom. To calm my taut nerves, I kept quoting scriptures and praying in tongues under my breath all through the lone elevator ride to the tenth floor. Still, I fidgeted.

Another knock later, the door automatically slid open, and I was admitted into the boardroom for the first time since I started working in this organisation.
The five major shareholders of Vistuer Styles Corporation, sons of a single mother who was speculated to have been an Indian diva who had multiple affairs with Nigerian men, sat in swivel chairs around an oblong table, all clad in expensive suits.
They all looked pointedly at me as I gingerly approached.

"Good day, sir. I was told you sent for me," I said to the CEO, for whom I served as a personal assistant, hoping my fear didn't reflect in my voice.

"Indeed," Mr Badmus replied, his voice flat as he pinned me with his accusatory glare.

My eyes roamed each of their faces, trying to gauge what their expressions. They all leered at me as if I was a piece of cake they wanted to gobble up. I sent up another desperate prayer in my heart.

Yes, the treacherous news about the company's clandestine activities was circling the media now. On all social media platforms, #vistuersexualscandal was the trending hashtag.

Mr Badmus leaned forward and steepled his fingers on the table.
"I am sure you must have heard the news of the dilemma this company has recently been plunged into."

"Yes, I have." I couldn't even tender an apology.

He narrowed his eyes at me and asked, "Do you believe the news? Do you have any idea who was behind the allegations?"

I gulped and blinked. I couldn't lie, so I kept mute.

The truth was, I was the one who uncovered their secrets. I had to. It was the only way to pacify my conscience.
From the moment I was employed over two years ago, I sensed something was terribly off behind the glamorous facade. But, I didn't lay hold on solid evidence to back my suspicions. As a believer, I kept praying as I did my best to be discreet about my secret investigations. I knew my purpose for being a staff member in this company was to uncover the works of darkness and bring as many as I could into the light of truth.

Vistuer Styles was the most renowned fashion brand in the African continent. Snagging a job in the headquarters in the capital state of Nigeria had been a miracle.
While being very resourceful and diligent, I tried to evangelize my boss, but he took it lightly and tried making passes at me, which I carefully turned down. He turned rigid and forbade me from openly proclaiming Christ in a professional setting.
Everyone knew Mr Badmus was a playboy, and very secretive too, and I had a bad feeling that something sinister was going on. I kept interceding and asking God to reveal to me what was hidden and to guide me on what to do.

One day, as I supervised the fashion models who were to be flown to Zimbabwe for a fashion show, one of the younger ladies-Cecilia, a 16-year-old girl-sobbed quietly in a corner.
Out of compassion, I took her to the bathroom to calm her down. There, she opened up to me about how her family had been paid off to keep them silent because once she landed in Zimbabwe, she would never return to Nigeria. She was terrified that she would be stuck as a sex slave in a strange land for the rest of her life.
I was deeply troubled by her claim, so I dug deeper. What I uncovered was unbelievable. I found out that, under the guise of a fashion enterprise, Mr Badmus and his cohort of brothers, asides being sex addicts themselves, ran an undercover sex trafficking business across Africa, Asia and Europe.

I was horrified. But, I knew I couldn't turn a blind eye to such an atrocity. I reached out to a trusted friend in one of the top media establishments in Nigeria and told him all I had found out, with substantial evidence, pleading for utmost anonymity.
I knew my career was more or less ruined by my choice to be a whistleblower, aside from the fact that I'd worked in such an unscrupulous company.

"Look how she plays the mute, innocent lamb," one of the brothers said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

It struck me then why they'd called for me. They knew I was the snitch.

Another slammed a fist on the table in rage, making me flinch.
"Badmus, you should have allowed me to take care of this skinny pimp my way."

"Jason, relax. I wanted to confirm myself directly from her. And her silence is proof of her guilt."

Mr Badmus rose and stalked closer to me. A chill ran down my spine.

"My sources have confirmed that you, Agatha Tiiyelari, are the little parrot that leaked our secret to the media."

I was surprised that they didn't even bother to accuse me of cooking up the story against them. They didn't deny anything. Of course.

Mr Badmus continued his diatribe. "You have worked with me for how long now? Two years? Yet, I did my best to tolerate your religious fanaticism because you proved to be the most competent lady I've ever worked with. Too bad. You snooped into what was not your business and now you're forcing my hands to get dirty again."

I gasped at how dark his tone had become and tumbled backwards, terrified about what was going to be my fate.

Mr Badmus looked at me with a single raised brow.
"You didn't think we will easily let you off our hook, given all you seem to know, did you?"
His sneer grew more pronounced.
"But before we dispose you off and wipe off any trace of you from the surface of the earth, we're going to have a bit of fun with your body. At least, allow us the luxury of proving your allegations right."

My heart lurched and I gasped. I had to get out of here. I ran to the door, but to my horror, it was locked. I slammed hard, crying for help, but it was pointless. This floor was virtually empty, accessible only to these scoundrels.

As the blinds of the glass windows began to automatically shut, I began to tremble as the realisation of my predicament hit me. I slid down with my back against the door, and curled up.

"Lord, I did what was right. I don't want to go down like this. Please, save me. Please..." I whispered as tears cascaded my cheeks.

"Oh, poor little kitten," Mr Badmus said mockingly as he stooped to my level and used his finger to push back strands of my tousled relaxed hair.

I felt repulsed by his touch and jerked my head away.

He whistled.
"Feisty, as always. This is going to be so much fun."
He turned to face his brothers.
"Boys, I'll go first. You can have your fill later. Help me restrain her."

The one called Jason pulled me up and dragged me towards the small conference table. I tried struggling and was rewarded with a slap that stung so bad it hurt my left eye.

Subdued, I couldn't do anything as they held me down spread-eagle on the table.

"The word of the Lord says, touch not my anointed," I uttered shakily while they strapped me down with their belts.
They all cackled in derision and mimicked me as they undressed till they were all down to their boxers.

"God if you're not going to save me, I'll still not bow to these demon-possessed men. I'll rather die," I prayed in my heart.

Just as Mr Badmus reached out to shred the last layer of dignity off my body, a muffled ricocheting sound that seemed to be from the hallway reached us.

Everyone halted. My heart soared with hope.

Just as one volunteered to check what the sound was about, the door flung open, blown apart by the force of a rapid rain of bullets.

The brothers were all rounded up and handcuffed.

I sobbed in relief as the female detective that led the squad came to untie me.

When I asked how they'd known, she said one of the staff suspected I was in danger and had reached out for help.
I couldn't be more grateful to God for delivering me in His righteousness.

***

Author Bio:
Praise Abraham writes stories that seek to bring people to a deeper intimacy with the Lover of their souls and that open their eyes to the reality of the spiritual realm.
She loves binge reading Christian romance and supernatural fiction in her free time. She'll be more than thrilled to have you reach out to her anytime.
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