“What I signed was 4.2 million.”
Nkiru stared.
Tobe stood.
“I remember the amount because I argued about it.”
“With whom?”
He hesitated.
“Tami.”
Nkiru knew the name.
Tamara Akinwale.
Known throughout the group as Tami.
Dapo Akinwale’s daughter.
Farin’s sister.
Executive director.
A woman whose photograph appeared at corporate events, charity galas, and board functions.
“What did she ask?”
Tobe closed his eyes.
“Vendor approval.”
He remembered the conversation as clearly as if it had happened that morning.
“Tobe, I need the approval tonight.”
“Procurement hasn’t finished verification.”
“It’s 4.2 million.”
“That’s not how finance works.”
“I’m confirming the amount personally.”
“Tami—”
“I’m asking you to trust me.”
He had looked at the request.
A known vendor.
Executive pressure.
End of day.
He signed.
“I’m signing because you are confirming 4.2 million.”
“Yes.”
That had been the conversation.
Nkiru listened.
Then asked:
“Why have you never told me it was Tami?”
Tobe looked toward the dark window.
“I told investigators.”
“Not me.”
“It didn’t matter.”
“It matters now.”
The following morning, Farin ordered a new forensic review of the forty-two-million-naira transaction.
He expected resistance.
He got more than that.
Old access records had been archived.
Vendor documents incomplete.
Approvals copied between systems during an earlier software migration.
But the new forensic team noticed something the original review had treated as a minor anomaly.
The transaction entered the workflow at 4.2 million naira.
That amount matched Tobe’s memory.
Hours later, after his approval token had been applied, the payment record changed.
42,000,000.
An excess of 37.8 million naira.
The alteration had been made from an executive-level terminal.
Farin stared at the forensic report.
“Whose?”
The analyst hesitated.
“Tami Akinwale’s.”
Farin leaned back.
His sister.
He called Nkiru back to headquarters.
This time she arrived angry.
Not frightened.
“Corporate wants you upstairs,” her restaurant supervisor had told her.
“Again?”
A coworker muttered:
“Apparently you’re more important than the manager now.”
Nkiru turned.
“Don’t punish me because your courage arrived late.”
The woman looked away.
At headquarters, Farin offered Nkiru a chair.
She said:
“Whenever this family tells me to sit, my life becomes more complicated.”
Dapo almost smiled despite himself.
Farin remained serious.
“We are conducting a review of Meridian’s service culture.”
“Because of that night?”
“Because that night exposed something.”
He slid a document toward her.
“We want you involved for three months.”
“Doing what?”
“Observing service practices. Training. Reporting directly to corporate guest experience.”
Nkiru stared.
“A promotion because I defended your father?”
“No.”
Farin shook his head.
“An opportunity because you demonstrated judgment under pressure.”
She did not touch the document.
“And my husband?”
Farin’s eyes shifted briefly toward Dapo.
Nkiru caught it.
“I don’t want a job tied to his case.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then why did you look at your father?”
Farin answered carefully.
“Because the two matters may no longer be completely separate.”
Nkiru became still.
“We reopened the forensic review.”
“Why?”