Till Death Do Us Part
A Coolvalstories Production
Episode 1: The Vanishing Veil
Genre: Nigerian Crime Thriller | Suspense | Romance | Action
—
The sun blazed hot over Enugu as families, friends, and a convoy of flashy cars made their way to the St. Dominic Catholic Church, Independence Layout. Today wasn’t just any day—it was the wedding of the year. Barrister Nkiru Okafor, the brilliant, beautiful lawyer from Nsukka, was getting married to Obinna Nnaji, heir to Nnaji Holdings and a rising political star.
The ceremony had gone smoothly. Tearful vows were exchanged. Parents danced. Flashbulbs clicked. The priest declared them husband and wife to loud applause.
But as guests began heading to The Dome, the venue for the grand reception, the bride was nowhere to be found.
—
1:34 PM | Pearl Orchid Hotel, Enugu
Nkiru had returned to her hotel suite briefly with her bridal train to freshen up and change into her second gown. She was still glowing from the altar—her makeup perfect, her eyes tired but excited. She excused herself to call her mother, saying she needed a moment alone before the next round of events.
She stepped out of the suite and into the hallway, stilettos clicking softly on the polished floor.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Then twenty.
Uchechi, her best friend and chief bridesmaid, grew anxious. “Nkiru is never this slow.”
They checked the hallway. Empty.
They called her phone. Switched off.
A call was made to Obinna. He was already at the reception, rehearsing his dance steps.
By the time hotel security was contacted and CCTV played, panic had fully set in.
—
2:22 PM | CCTV Footage Playback Room
The footage played back in grainy black and white. At exactly 1:41 PM, Nkiru stepped out of the elevator, veil in hand, clutching her phone.
She walked past the hotel’s reception, straight toward the car park.
Then—she stopped beside a black Mercedes-Benz GLA with tinted windows, parked awkwardly under a palm tree. She bent slightly to the window. Her lips moved in what looked like a heated argument with someone inside the car. She waved her hand dismissively and turned to leave.
Suddenly, a black Toyota Hilux with no license plates screeched in beside them, blocking the view of anyone that would have noticed. Four masked men jumped out grabbed her, bundled her roughly into the Hilux, and sped off within 26 seconds of arrival. Nobody noticed, not even the security at the gate
Her phone fell to the ground.
The GLA followed behind.
—
2:45 PM | The Dome, Enugu
The music was loud. The MC had just announced the arrival of “our dashing couple!” The guests roared. Cameras rolled.
But Obinna stood awkwardly at the entrance with his groomsmen, no bride beside him.
Someone whispered into the MC’s ear. He froze, nodded, and then made up a lie: “There’s been a quick dress emergency—our bride will be here shortly. Let’s give it up for the groom while we wait!”
But Obinna wasn’t fooled.
Minutes later, the truth was laid bare. Hotel manager. CCTV officer. Security personnel. Chief bridesmaid.
And the phone call.
Yes. The call.
It came from a hidden number just five minutes after the footage was reviewed.
A raspy voice: “You have until midnight to pay ₦150 million. Or you’ll be burying your bride instead of kissing her.”
The line cut before any trace attempt could begin.
—
4:12 PM | Enugu State Police Command HQ
SP Ngozi Onuorah, DPO of Anti-Kidnapping Squad, Enugu Metro, slammed her notepad shut. “We don’t pay ransom. We hunt.”
But Obinna wasn’t listening. He was pacing. “I don’t care if you hunt or fish. She was kidnapped in daylight. Just tell me—do you know who took her?”
Ngozi’s brows furrowed. “Let’s start with you. Does she have enemies? Anyone that would want to harm her?”
“None,” Obinna replied, too fast.
“An ex, maybe? A jealous co-worker?”
“She doesn’t talk about her past.”
That was the first red flag.
—
7:40 PM | Nsukka – A Forgotten Past
Meanwhile, in a dusty compound in Nsukka, an older man watched the news quietly from a dimly lit parlour. His eyes locked on the picture of Nkiru smiling in her wedding gown.
He didn’t blink.
Not once.
He muttered, “You said I wasn’t your class. That you didn’t love me anymore. But you wore the necklace I bought you to his wedding.”
He took a long drag from his cigarette and turned off the television.
Outside, a phone vibrated.
He picked it up.
A voice said, “The money has not been sent.”
He replied, “If they delay past midnight, cut off her finger. Then call again.”
—
To Be Continued in Episode 2: “Ghosts from Nsukka”
