Centenary Driving School

Call Directions Contact the business

Centenary Driving School P.O. Box 37581 Kampala Uganda +256782204850/ +256759204850 CDS, together with its partners aim at addressing the problem of road carnage by the year 2022.

Centenary Driving School Limited (CDS) is a Ugandan based start up automotive training institution dedicated to extending affordable and contemporary driving skills to Ugandan individual and institutional drivers in order to tremendously reduce road accidents resulting from ill trained drivers. The company that started its operations at the beginning of 2011 as a sole business and incorporated at the beginning of 2012 with only one motor vehicle currently has six vehicles distributed in three branches
Annoying of all this is that when a road accident occurs, it is all blamed on driving schools yet a big number of Ugandan drivers do not learn from driving schools. It is against this that the government through the ministry of Works and transport has stepped out to vigorously regulate driver training

21/10/2026

DAUGHTER OF A PR******TE

SHE WOKE UP IN THE HOUSEBOY'S ROOM
EPISODE 13

No one could take the blame for sending her away, but twenty years later, I found myself sitting comfortably in my living room with my wife and our only daughter, Laka. She was almost twenty years old, and we were enjoying a peaceful weekend together.

Suddenly, Kume, our houseboy, came rushing in, breathing heavily.

"What is it, Kume?" I asked, turning my attention away from the television.

"Sir, there is a young lady outside. She is so beautiful, sir, and she says she has come to see her father."

"Tell her she must have come to the wrong house," I replied casually.

"Okay, sir."

Kume turned and hurried back to the gate.

We had taken him as our own son because we never had a boy. He was a homeless young man I had met on the street many years ago, and his kindness had brought him into my home. With time, he became part of our family, and we trusted him like our own child.

I returned my attention to the television, enjoying the peaceful moment with my wife and daughter. Little did I know that our quiet weekend was about to take a shocking turn.

A few minutes later, Kume came rushing back.

"Sir, I tried to persuade her to leave, but she insisted that this is her father's house. She says she will not leave until she sees him."

I frowned.

For a moment, I wondered who the young lady could be. It had been twenty years, and I had not heard of anyone coming to my house with such claims.

"Come, let's see who she is talking about," I said, rising from the couch.

My wife glanced at me curiously as I followed Kume to the gate.

And surely, the young lady was beautiful. However, there was something strange about her face. Her eyes, her nose, and even the way she looked at me reminded me of someone I had known many years ago.

I stood there, studying her face.

"Young lady, what exactly are you looking for?" I asked.

"My father," she answered confidently.

"And who told you that your father lives here?"

"My late mother."

I became more curious, although I was still not convinced by her words.

"All right. For the benefit of doubt, who did your mother tell you was your father?"

"Mr. Mbungang, the man who lived in this same house."

I stared at her in disbelief.

"I am Mr. Mbungang."

She gazed into my eyes, and I swallowed hard.

"Then who is your mother?" I asked.

"My mother was the late Miss Laisin Judith."

I shook my head slowly.

"I'm sorry, young lady, but I don't know any woman by that name."

She looked at me for a moment before speaking again.

"She told me that whenever I came here, I should remind you that you always called her Princess."

"Princess!"

The name escaped my lips before I could control myself.

My heart began to tremble as memories I had buried for twenty years came rushing back. Could this young lady really be connected to the woman I once loved?

Just then, my wife stepped forward, interrupting the moment.

"Darling, who is this girl, and why is she calling you her father?"

I turned to look at my wife, unable to find the right words.

TBC...

21/10/2026

THE POOR FISHERMAN AND THE STRANGE BABY

EPISODE 25

The decision to travel to Azuama brought many emotions into Amaka's home. For Obi, it was a journey he had never imagined making. Only a few days earlier, he had believed he knew everything about his life. Now, he had discovered that the people who raised him were not his biological parents, that his real father had been murdered, and that his mother had been imprisoned while trying to save his life.

It was almost too much for him to understand.

Amaka and her husband began preparing for the journey. They packed food, drinking water and a few clothes, knowing that the road to Azuama was long and tiring. They also made arrangements for Chidiebere, who would remain in Anioma with his father's younger brother until they returned.

Chidiebere was disappointed that he could not accompany them, but his parents pacified him. Ebele also insisted on joining the travellers.

Amaka was worried about her age and failing strength. The old woman could no longer walk long distances without becoming tired, and the journey would not be easy.

But Ebele refused to remain behind.

“I have waited too many years for this day,” she told them. “I must go with Obi. There are things Kelechi and Nneka need to hear from me.”

Seeing her determination, they finally agreed.

Two days later, the four travelers set out for Azuama.

The journey took them through narrow footpaths, thick forests and several small settlements. At different points, they stopped to rest beneath trees and drink water. Whenever Ebele became tired, Obi offered his arm and helped her walk.

Amaka watched him quietly, feeling both proud and sad.
Obi h
ad hardly spoken since they left Anioma.

Sometimes, he walked ahead of the others, lost in thought. At other times, he remained beside Ebele, listening to the sounds of the forest without saying anything.

His mind was troubled.

For twenty-five years, he had called Amaka and her husband his parents. They had loved him, cared for him and given him a home. Nothing could take away those memories.

But now he knew that another woman had given birth to him. A woman who had placed him in a basket and sent him down a river because she wanted him to live.

Amaka occasionally tried to speak with him, but he answered briefly and returned to his thoughts. She understood. He needed time to accept everything.

By the time they approached Azuama, the sun was already beginning to set. The evening sky had turned golden, and smoke was rising from cooking fires across the village.

For Ebele, the long journey had been exhausting. But when she heard that they had finally arrived, she straightened herself and smiled.

Amaka's husband led the way towards Kelechi's compound. Many things had changed since his last visit. The old paths were still familiar, but several houses had been rebuilt, and new compounds had appeared.

Kelechi's home had also changed.

The small hut where he and Nneka once struggled to raise their family had been rebuilt into a stronger and more comfortable house. He had also added another hut to provide more space for his growing family.

Beside the houses stood a simple open-sided shed with a thatched roof. Wooden benches had been arranged beneath it, providing a cool place where the family could sit, rest during the afternoon and spend time together in the evenings.

That was where Kelechi often sat with his wife and daughters.

Age had caught up with him. His hair had turned grey, his shoulders were slightly bent, and his once-strong hands had become rough and weak from many years of fishing.

Nneka had also grown older. Her face carried the marks of time, but her gentle nature remained unchanged.

That evening, Kelechi was resting near the shed when Ada noticed four people approaching their compound.

She looked carefully at the visitors. Then she turned towards the house.

“Papa! We have visitors!”

Kelechi slowly rose from his seat and stepped forward.

As the travelers came closer, he recognised Amaka and her husband. His face immediately brightened. He hurried towards them as quickly as his ageing legs allowed.

They exchanged warm greetings, and Kelechi welcomed them happily. But when he looked at the other two visitors, he appeared confused. He did not recognise the old woman. Neither did he recognise the tall, handsome young man standing beside her.

Still, he welcomed them politely.

Ada and her younger sister quickly brought out more benches and arranged them beneath the shed. Nneka heard the voices and came outside.
The visitors were invited to sit.

The family brought out kola nuts, groundnut paste and drinking water as they exchanged greetings and asked about one another's health.

After the pleasantries, Amaka looked at Kelechi and Nneka. Her expression became serious.

“There is something important we have come to tell you.”

The couple listened carefully.

Amaka first introduced Ebele as a woman from Anioma who had known Obi for many years and had helped protect him from danger.

Ebele greeted them respectfully.

Then Amaka turned towards the young man seated beside her.

“And this,” she said gently, “is Obi. The little boy Kelechi rescued from the river many years ago.”

Nneka stared at the young man. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Then she slowly stood up.

“Obi?”

The young man rose from his seat.

“Yes, Mama.”

Nneka walked towards him, her eyes already filling with tears. She stopped directly in front of him and looked closely at his face.

With trembling hands, she gently touched his cheeks, his forehead and his chin, tracing his features as though trying to find the little baby she remembered.

Obi stood still. He did not know what to say. Nneka continued looking at him. Then her face crumpled. She burst into tears and threw her arms around him.

“My son! My Obi!”

She held him tightly, crying uncontrollably.

“Thank you, God! Thank you for keeping us alive to see this day!”

Obi slowly wrapped his arms around her. At first, he tried to remain calm. But something about the way Nneka held him touched a place deep inside his heart. He could feel her trembling against him.

He could hear the happiness and pain in her voice.

And suddenly, tears began rolling down his face. He held her more tightly and cried. He could not explain why, but he cried.

He had already cried when Ebele revealed his true identity, but this was different. Standing in the arms of the woman who had once protected him as a helpless baby, he felt a love he could not put into words.

Under the shed, Kelechi watched silently. His eyes filled with tears. One tear slipped down his cheek, but he quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand.

Ada and her younger sister watched in surprise, deeply moved by their mother's reaction. When Nneka finally released him, she took his hand and led him towards the bench beside her.

“Come and sit with me, my son.”

She made him sit close to her and continued holding his hand, as though afraid he might disappear again.

After some time, Obi turned towards Kelechi.

He looked at the ageing fisherman with deep respect.

“Papa, please, I want you to tell me exactly how you found me.”

Kelechi remained silent for a moment.

Then he began. He told Obi about the morning he went fishing and noticed a basket floating along the river. He described how the basket moved strangely in the water and how he became concerned when he realised there was a baby inside.

He explained how the child slipped into the river and how he rushed to rescue him before the current carried him away.

He also explained how strange men began searching for a missing baby, they became frightened, which was why they decided to send Obi to Anioma, where Amaka and her husband could protect him.

As Obi listened, tears flowed down his cheeks again. By the time Kelechi finished, Obi could no longer hide his emotions. He lowered his head and wept.

Kelechi moved closer and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. The family remained quiet, allowing him time to recover.

Then Ebele slowly introduced herself properly, explaining that she had once served as a maid in the royal palace of Ogudoro.

She told them about King Uzochukwu, his cruel elder brother Obinna and the terrible night the rightful king was murdered.

She explained how Queen Amara fled with her infant son and placed him in a basket on the river to save him from Obinna's men.

Ebele's voice broke as she described the queen's desperation. She told them that the baby was Prince Chukwuebuka, the rightful heir to Ogudoro's throne.

Then she pointed gently towards Obi. “That baby was him.”

Kelechi and Nneka stared at her in shock. Ebele continued, explaining how Queen Amara was captured after sending her son away.

“The last time I knew anything about her,” Ebele said sadly, “she was still imprisoned in Ogudoro. That was about twenty years ago, before I left the kingdom.”

She paused and wiped her eyes. “I do not know whether she is still alive.”

To be Continued…

Written by
Hilda's Forum

19/10/2026

The Unknown Tomorrow

Episode 9

The silence between us stretched like a wound that refused to heal.

I stood at the foot of his bed, my hands clasped in front of me, my face a mask I had perfected over twenty years of building an empire from the ashes of my broken heart. Kouadio's eyes—those same eyes that had once made me believe in forever—were fixed on me with a desperation that should have moved me.

But I felt nothing.

Or perhaps I felt everything, and that was the problem.

"Aya," he croaked again, his voice raw from the tubes they had pulled from his throat. "You came. You... you came for me."

I tilted my head, studying him the way I would study a business proposal that did not add up. "I came to see if you were still alive," I said, my voice calm and measured. "The nurses tell me you are."

He tried to sit up, but the pain made him gasp, his bandaged ribs protesting the movement. "Aya, please... I need to explain. I need you to understand—"

"Understand what?" I interrupted, my voice still soft, still controlled. "Understand how you thrèàtened me and stripped me of all my righyand privileges because I refused to get rid of my unborn child? Understand how you sent your wife after me toakeblife unbearable for me? Understand how you vanished from my life without a backward glance, as though I was nothing more than a passing convenience?"

Each word was a blade, and I watched them land, one by one, cutting into whatever remained of his pride.

He closed his eyes, t3ars leaking from the corners. "I was a fuuul. A selfish fuul. I know that now. When I saw you in that doorway, when I saw the life you have built, the woman you have become..." He swallowed hard. "I realized what I threw away."

"You threw away nothing," I said, and my voice was ice. "I was never yours to throw away. I was a young girl who loved you, who trusted you, who believed your lies. You did not throw me away, Kouadio. You set me free."

He opened his eyes, and I saw the confusion in them, the desperate attempt to understand what I was saying.

"I built something from nothing," I continued, taking a step closer to the bed. "I raised a son alone. I started a business with the little my mother gifted me. I clawed my way out of poverty while you were living your comfortable life with your other family. And now..." I gestured around the small hospital room. "Now you are here. Broken. Abandoned. And I am the only one who cared enough to save you."

"Why?" he whispered. "Why would you save me after everything I did to you?"

I was silent for a long moment. It was a question I had been asking myself since the moment I saw him on that stretcher, blèèding and broken, the man who had once been my entire world reduced to a shell of himself.

"I do not know," I admitted. "Perhaps because I am not like you. Perhaps because I could not stand by and watch another human being suffer, no matter what they had done. Perhaps..." I paused, searching for the words. "Perhaps because I needed to see you like this. To know that the universe has a way of balancing the scales."

He flinched as though I had struck him.

"I am dying, Aya," he said suddenly, and the words hung in the air like smoke.

I frowned. "The doctors said you were stable."

"I am stable for now. But my body... it is not what it used to be. The beating was severe. There is damage to my organs, to my spine. The doctor told me this morning that I will never walk again without assistance. That I will need care for the rest of my life." He laughed bitterly, the sound breaking in his throat. "A man who cannot walk, cannot work, cannot provide for himself. What use am I to anyone now?"

I said nothing, but something shifted in my chest. A feeling I did not want to examine too closely.

"Aya," he said, and his voice was different now, softer, almost childlike. "Aya, I know I have no right to ask you for anything. I know I have no right to even speak your name after what I did. But I am begging you..."

He tried to reach for me, but his arm fell short, falling limply to the bed.

"I am begging you... forgive me."

The word hung between us, heavy and impossible.

"Forgive you?" I repeated slowly. "You want me to forgive you?"

"Yes. Please. I cannot d!e with this weight on my soul. I cannot face my Creator knowing that I never made things right with you, with my son—"

" Well, I forgave you in advance; a long time ago.Your son," I cut in, and my voice was sharp now, sharp enough to draw blood. "You want to talk about your son? The son you abandoned before he was even born? The son who has never known his father, who has never received a single phone call, a single letter, a single birthday card? That son?"

Kouadio's face crumpled. "I know. I know I failed him. But I want to make it right. I want to see him. I want to know him. I want to ask his forgiveness too."

My hands were shaking now, the carefully constructed mask beginning to crack.

"You want to see him," I said, my voice trembling with barely contained rage. "After twenty years of silence, after years of pretending he did not exist, you want to see him now? When you are lying in a hospital bed, broken and helpless, you suddenly remember you have a son?"

"Aya—"

"No!" The word exploded from me, and I did not care who heard. "You do not get to do this! You do not get to crawl back into my life when you have nowhere else to go and pretend that you care about the family you threw away!"

A nurse appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide with alarm. I waved her away, and she retreated, closing the door behind her.

Kouadio was cry!ng now and something in me; some remnant of the girl I had been ached at the sight.

My people, this one na crocodile tèàrs mbôk.

16/10/2026

THE PROMISE.
Episode 15.
© Precious Chinwe Obialor-Ukazim.

Jennifer barely slept that night. By six in the morning, she was already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed with her hands resting on her stomach. Her husband was still asleep beside her, but she had been watching the darkness outside their bedroom window slowly give way to morning.

She was afraid, not of the hospital they were about visiting itself, but of what they might say and several times during the night, she had almost changed her mind. She had imagined waking her husband and telling him she no longer wanted to go and that they should return to Divine Favour Clinic instead and speak with the doctor again or ask more questions. Perhaps everything would make sense if they gave the doctor another opportunity to explain.

But each time that thought came, another thought followed. The thought of them sourcing a baby for her and Jennifer closed her eyes. Nothing about those words sounded medical and no matter how many times she tried to arrange the doctor's explanations in her mind, she kept returning to the same question her husband had asked the previous evening.

If the clinic was worried that something might happen to the baby she was carrying, why had they not examined the baby before discussing sourcing another woman's child?

Her husband stirred beside her then he opened his eyes and saw her sitting there. “Have you been awake for long?” He asked and Jennifer nodded.

“Did you sleep at all?” He asked again, sitting up.

“I couldn't sleep.” She replied.

“You're thinking about today.” He said, understandingly but she did not answer then reached for her hand.

“Homey, we don't have to be afraid of knowing what is happening.” He said and Jennifer gave him a strained smile.

“It's very easy for you to say.” She said with a sad smile.

“No, it isn't.” He told her. “I am afraid too." He added and she looked at him because that surprised her.

“Afraid of what?” She asked.

“Afraid of what they might tell us, of course.” He replied and she breathed down heavily then he squeezed her hand. “But whatever they say, we'll face it together.” He assured her.

“Okay.” She nodded.

They went to a hospital that had no connection whatsoever with Divine Favour Women’s Clinic. It was a proper specialist hospital, busy even in the morning, with pregnant women seated in the waiting area, some alone and others with their husbands. A woman across from Jennifer had a visibly large pregnancy and occasionally rubbed her stomach while speaking to the man beside her assumed to be her husband.

Jennifer tried not to look at her but she found herself comparing their stomachs, then she looked down at her own stomach and hated herself for doing it.

"My pregnancy is real." The thought came automatically and she held on to it throughout the waiting period.

When her name was eventually called, her husband stood up with her, not ready to take chances again. The specialist doctor who attended to them was a man in his forties and he greeted them warmly and asked them to sit.

“What's the problem?” He asked and Jennifer looked at her husband. He nodded gently, encouraging her to speak then she took a breath.

“I came to confirm my pregnancy.” She said and the doctor looked at her abdomen, then back at her.

“You've already had a positive pregnancy test, don't you?” He asked and Jennifer hesitated.

“Not exactly.” She replied then the doctor picked up his pen.

“All right. Tell me everything about your pregnancy from the beginning.”

Jennifer did but not everything at first. She explained that she had been married for seven years and had been trying to conceive. She told the doctor about Divine Favour Clinic, how she had gone there after someone recommended it and how she had been told that she was pregnant.

“What test did they do before confirming the pregnancy?” the doctor asked.

“They examined me.” She replied.

“What kind of examination?” He asked and she tried to remember.

“The doctor asked me some questions, checked me then he explained that mine was a hidden pregnancy.” She reported

“A hidden pregnancy?” The doctor's pen stopped.

“Yes.” Jennifer replied.

“What exactly did he mean by that?” The doctor asked.

“He said it wouldn't show like a normal pregnancy. That sometimes scans and regular tests wouldn't detect it.” She replied and the doctor did not immediately respond, he just stared at her.

“Okay. So, what medications have you been taking?” He asked and Jennifer opened her handbag and brought out the packets she had carried with her.

“Here. I brought some.” She said, dropping them on the table and the doctor took them and examined each one carefully.

“Were these given to you in their original packaging?” He asked.

“I don't know, sir. Some were given to me like that.” She answered.

“Do you know what all of them are?” The doctor looked at her in amazement and she shook her head.


“They told me they were for sustaining the pregnancy and helping it develop properly.” She replied then the doctor placed them on the table.

“How many months pregnant have they told you that you are?” He asked again, picking up his pen and Jennifer answered.

“And have you felt foetal movement?” The doctor looked at her abdomen again.

Jennifer's throat tightened. “Not really.” She managed to answer. “But sometimes I feel things.”

“What kind of things?” He asked.

“A movement... or maybe a feeling like something turning in my stomach.” She explained.

The doctor nodded. “Any kicking?” He asked and Jennifer shook her head.

“They said because my pregnancy is different, I shouldn't expect everything to happen the normal way.” She answered and the doctor remained professional, but Jennifer noticed that he had become more serious.

“Have you had an ultrasound at any point during this pregnancy?” He asked.

“Not really.” Jennifer's voice became quieter, and even her husband shifted beside her then the doctor looked at Jennifer. “They said it was because the pregnancy was hidden and ultrasound cannot detect it.” She added.

“All right.” The doctor put down his pen. “I don't want us to make assumptions. We're going to examine you properly, run some tests and do an ultrasound.” He said and Jennifer became tense.

“What if the scan doesn't see anything?” She asked.

“We'll interpret the scan together with the other findings.” He told her calmly.

“But I told you, my kind of pregnancy doesn't always show.” She said again and the doctor held her gaze.

“Mrs. Jennifer, you are here to confirm your pregnancy and I need you to let me do my job. An ongoing pregnancy at the stage you have described would ordinarily give us objective findings to assess. So rather than frightening you with possibilities, let us first find out what is happening inside your body.” He told her respectfully but firmly and she looked at her husband.

“Let's do it.” Her husband reached for her hand then she nodded reluctantly.

Blood and urine samples were collected then Jennifer was examined, after which they were sent for an ultrasound.
By the time she lay on the examination bed, her heart was beating so hard that she could hear it. The sonographer asked her to raise her blouse slightly and Jennifer did. The gel was cold against her skin as she watched the screen.

She had watched screens like this before because years of fertility investigations had taught her enough to know that sonographer was searching for something round, maybe a head, a body, movements or anything.

The sonographer moved the probe and Jennifer stared, but nothing made sense. She looked at the woman's face and the sonographer's expression remained neutral but the waiting became unbearable.

“Can you see the baby?” She asked but the woman continued the examination.

“Let me finish first, ma.” She managed to answer her and Jennifer's hand tightened around the edge of the bed.

A few moments later she asked again, “Can you see the heartbeat?”

“Please give me a moment.” The woman then Jennifer's breathing became shallow.

The sonographer changed position and continued. Jennifer turned towards her husband who was standing near the wall, watching. Their eyes met, and she could see the fear in his face now.

“You can clean up, ma.” Eventually, the sonographer finished.

Jennifer did not move, instead she said. “Please, did you see my baby?”

“Your doctor will discuss the report with you.” The woman replied her.

“No. Please. Just tell me if you saw my baby.” Jennifer sat up, pleadingly.

“It's not my duty to interpret the scan to you, ma. Your doctor will explain the findings.” The woman maintained

“Why won't she answer me?” Jennifer asked her husband, obviously losing it then he came closer and calmly said, “Let's go back to the doctor.”

Her hands were trembling as she cleaned the gel from her stomach but unfortunately, they had to wait again until they are called upon to see the doctor.
They sat outside the consultation room waiting for the remaining results. Jennifer did not speak but every few minutes, she looked at the envelope containing the ultrasound report in her husband's hand.

When finally, their names were called, they went in to see the doctor. The doctor had the laboratory results in front of him when they entered.

“Please sit down.” He said and Jennifer sat, then her husband sat beside her. The doctor looked through the reports once more before turning towards them.

“Mrs. Jennifer, I'm going to explain what we've found as clearly as I can.” He started and Jennifer immediately shook her head, trembling with fear...

To be continued....

07/03/2026

The Sugar Daddy Contract - Episode 14

Kelvin sat alone in his office long after most of the staff had left the building for the day. The large glass windows behind him revealed the glowing lights of the city spreading across the night like scattered stars, but he barely noticed the view. His attention remained fixed on the papers spread across his desk.

The printed financial records from earlier that morning lay neatly arranged in front of him. Kelvin had gone through them several times already, yet each time he read them, new questions formed in his mind.

A story by Jb Da Silva Usman

The payments were too large to ignore.
They were not labeled as salaries, bonuses, or company incentives. They were simply listed under executive disbursement authorizations, each signed personally by his father.

Kelvin leaned back slowly in his chair and folded his arms. It did not make sense.
His father was a very careful businessman. Every payment that left the company accounts usually had a clear purpose and a detailed explanation. Yet these payments to Zara were vague and almost hidden within the system.

Kelvin picked up one of the papers again.
One transaction alone was enough to buy a small house. Why would his father give such an amount to his personal assistant?

Kelvin’s mind began replaying every moment he had shared with Zara inside the company. He remembered the way some employees used to whisper whenever she passed by. At the time he had assumed they were simply jealous of her closeness to the chairman. Now he was no longer sure. He rubbed his jaw slowly.

Something about this entire situation felt deeper than he had originally believed. It was no longer just about his father disapproving of his relationship with Zara.
There was history there. History his father had carefully hidden. Kelvin stood up and walked toward the window, staring out at the quiet city streets below. The night air pressed softly against the glass as he rested his hands on the frame. He had two options. He could confront his father again and demand answers. Or he could continue investigating quietly.

Kelvin already knew which option would give him the truth. His father was too skilled at avoiding questions. If Kelvin wanted real answers, he would have to find them himself.

The next morning, Kelvin arrived at the company earlier than usual again. The building was still waking up for the day, with cleaners moving through the hallways and security guards greeting the few early staff members.

Kelvin walked straight to the human resources department. The HR manager, a middle-aged woman named Mrs. Banjo, looked surprised to see him so early.

“Good morning, Mr. Kelvin,” she said politely. “Good morning.” “What can I do for you?” Kelvin leaned casually against the desk. “I just need to review a few old employee files.” Mrs. Banjo nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

She walked toward a locked cabinet at the back of the office and pulled out several folders before placing them on the table.

Kelvin began flipping through the files slowly, pretending to browse randomly, but his real focus remained on one name.
Zara. Eventually he found the file.

Her employment documents were neatly arranged inside. Her application letter, her interview evaluation, and the official employment contract that had made her the chairman’s personal assistant.
Kelvin frowned slightly as he read the interview evaluation page.
The remarks written there surprised him.
“Candidate shows excellent communication skills but limited corporate experience.”

Kelvin read that sentence twice.
Limited corporate experience? Then how had she been selected for such a sensitive position directly under the chairman?

Most companies would never give such a role to someone with limited experience.
Kelvin flipped to the next page.
Another note caught his attention.
“Appointment approved directly by the Chairman.”

Kelvin slowly closed the file. Now he understood something important.
Zara had not gone through the normal recruitment process. His father had personally selected her. And suddenly Kelvin remembered something Zara had said the day she was fired.
“It’s complicated.”

At the time he had assumed she was simply avoiding the conversation. Now he began to wonder if she had been trying to protect him from the truth. Kelvin thanked the HR manager and left the department quietly. As he walked back toward his office, he noticed two junior staff members whispering near the elevator.

They immediately fell silent when they saw him approaching. Kelvin stopped.
“You two,” he said calmly. The young employees turned nervously. “Yes sir.”
Kelvin looked at them carefully.
“You worked closely with the chairman’s office, right?” They exchanged glances before nodding. “Yes sir.” Kelvin kept his voice casual.

“Did Zara ever have problems with anyone in the office?” The two employees hesitated again. One of them finally spoke.
“Not exactly sir… but…” Kelvin raised an eyebrow. “But what?” The man shifted slightly. “Some people used to say she was… very close to the chairman.”
Kelvin felt his stomach tighten slightly.
“Close how?” The employee immediately shook his head. “Sir, it was just gossip. People talk a lot in offices.” Kelvin nodded slowly. “I understand.”

He dismissed them and continued walking toward his office. But their words stayed with him. Very close to the chairman.
Kelvin sat at his desk and stared at the wall for a long time. A disturbing thought slowly formed in his mind.

What if his father’s refusal had nothing to do with social status or company rules?
What if the reason was something far more personal? Kelvin immediately pushed the thought away. No. That was impossible. His father would never—
But the financial records flashed in his mind again. The private payments. The secret approvals. The direct recruitment.
Kelvin leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to form a picture he did not want to see.
Meanwhile, across the city, Zara sat quietly inside a small rented room she had managed to find after leaving the estate house. The room was nothing like the luxurious place she had grown used to.
The walls were plain. The furniture was minimal. But at least it was somewhere to sleep. She sat on the edge of the bed holding her phone, staring at Kelvin’s contact name on the screen. He had called her several times since the day she left the company. She had not answered any of the calls. Not because she did not want to hear his voice. But because she knew hearing it would make everything harder.

Kelvin deserved the truth. But telling him the truth would destroy him. Zara lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. Her thoughts drifted back to the night she had first signed the contract with Chief Raymond.

At the time, she had convinced herself it was simply a temporary arrangement.
Five years of comfort. Five years of security. After that, she would start her life again. She had never imagined she would fall in love with Kelvin. And she had never imagined that love would cost her everything. Her phone suddenly vibrated in her hand. Kelvin was calling again. Zara stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then slowly… she declined the call.

Back at the office, Kelvin looked down at his phone in frustration when the call ended again. He knew she was avoiding him. But that only made him more determined. Kelvin opened his laptop and typed Zara’s name into the company’s internal archives once more. This time he searched deeper. Old company travel records. Meeting schedules. Private bookings approved by the chairman.
And then suddenly, one document appeared on the screen that made his heart stop. A private travel authorization from a year ago.
Destination: Dubai.
Passengers: Chief Raymond and Zara.

Kelvin stared at the screen in disbelief.
His hands slowly tightened into fists.
That trip had happened during the same time Zara had first joined the company.
Why would his father take his newly appointed personal assistant on an international trip so quickly?

Kelvin leaned back slowly in his chair.
The truth was getting closer. Closer than he had expected. And somewhere deep inside him, a quiet fear began to grow.
Because if his suspicions turned out to be correct… The woman he loved… And the man he trusted most in the world… Might be connected in a way that could destroy all three of them.

👉 To be continued in Episode 15

👉 Please SHARE this story to motivate me to write more episodes










Address

P. O. Box 37581 Kampala Uganda + 256782204850/+256759204850
Kampala
1

Telephone

+256759204850

Website

Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when Centenary Driving School posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Contact The Business

Send a message to Centenary Driving School:

Shortcuts

Share

Category