“If workers are delayed, someone is delaying them. If materials are missing, someone is taking them.”
No one spoke.
“Schedule a site inspection,” she said. “Today.”
Across the table, Amecha Belogan, one of her senior executives, leaned back with a polite smile that did little to hide his irritation.
“I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” he said.
Uchi did not look at him.
“Then you won’t mind if I confirm that myself.”
By noon, she was on-site.
The Aja construction site was exactly what she expected: loud, dusty, disorderly. But beneath the visible chaos was something worse—neglect. Workers moved slowly, not from laziness but from exhaustion. Materials were scattered carelessly. Supervision was weak.
Uchi stepped out of the car, heels sinking slightly into uneven ground, and felt eyes turn toward her at once.
Curious.
Nervous.
Resentful.
A supervisor hurried toward her, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Madam, we didn’t expect—”
“That,” she said calmly, “is the problem. You should.”
Then she saw him.
At first glance, there was nothing extraordinary about Chinedu Okoye. He wore the same faded clothes as the other laborers. His hands were rough, his boots worn, his face dusty from work.
But he moved differently.
Not hurried. Not careless. Intentional.
He lifted bricks with steady strength. He wasted no motion. When an older laborer nearby struggled under a heavy load, Chinedu stepped in and took half the weight without a word.
No performance.
Next page
