“Did you know who my father was that night?”
“No.”
“Not even after he asked your name?”
“No, Mr. Akinwale.”
Farin folded his hands.
“Would knowing have changed what you did?”
Nkiru thought.
“I hope not.”
“Why?”
“Because if recognizing him made me decent, then it wasn’t decency.”
Dapo’s eyes softened.
Farin nodded.
“It would have made your action less useful as evidence of character.”
Nkiru’s expression tightened.
“I’m not applying to become anybody’s evidence.”
Farin paused.
“Fair enough.”
A communications officer knocked and entered.
“Sir.”
Farin turned.
“Renée Balogun has posted another video.”
Nkiru’s shoulders stiffened.
The officer read from his phone.
“She says the incident was staged, that staff members are turning a seating misunderstanding into a class-war spectacle, and that certain employees know how to attract powerful attention.”
Nkiru stared.
“She’s saying I planned it?”
Farin reached for the phone.
“My communications team will handle her.”
Dapo shook his head.
“No.”
Farin looked at him.
“Dad?”
“No communication in my name until I approve it.”
He looked toward Nkiru.
“Your husband worked here.”
Her body became still.
“How do you know my husband?”
“Akinwale Group employed him.”
“Everyone seems to know that.”
Dapo watched her carefully.
Nkiru’s voice hardened.
“They know the accusation.”
Silence.
“They don’t know him.”
That evening, Nkiru returned to the apartment she shared with Tobe.
He was at the dining table surrounded by job listings he had stopped pretending were promising.
He looked up.
“You went to Akinwale headquarters.”
She froze.
“How do you know?”
“Someone called.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“They summoned me.”
“You shouldn’t have gone.”
Nkiru stared.
“Why?”
“Stay away from those people.”
“They own the place where I work.”
“Then leave.”
“With what money, Tobe?”
His face tightened.
She closed the door.
“Why are you afraid?”
“I’m not.”
“Stop saying that.”
He looked away.
“We borrowed rent twice.”
No answer.
“Your mother thinks you are consulting because you’re too ashamed to tell her you can’t get hired.”
Tobe rubbed his face.
“Half your friends stopped calling after the scandal.”
“Nkiru.”
“I work double shifts while you spend every morning sending applications to people who already decided your name means thief.”
He looked up.
She softened slightly.
“I protect your pride every day.”
Pause.
“Don’t tell me you’re fine.”
Tobe leaned back.
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
He gave a tired laugh.
“I told you the truth.”
“Then explain something.”
Nkiru walked to the bedroom.
Returned with an old company laptop.
Tobe’s face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Inside the cupboard where you told me it was broken.”
“Nkiru.”
“Your signature is on the payment authorization.”
“Yes.”
“You told me you never stole company money.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then why did you sign this?”
“Because the payment I authorized wasn’t forty-two million.”
She turned the screen toward him.
“It says forty-two million naira.”