"Seven years ago," Folarin began, "Temi authorized twelve million naira for a private investment before obtaining the board's approval. She believed she could replace it before anyone noticed."
"How much was returned?" Tunde asked.
"Every naira. The investment closed, and the money came back."
"That isn't the point, Dad. Why wasn't it reported?"
Folarin looked down at his hands. "Because I was protecting my daughter. I thought a public scandal over money that had been returned would end her future."
"You taught Kunle that our rules could be negotiated. You gave him something to use against you whenever he wanted an exception."
The chairman accepted the accusation without defending himself. It hurt Tunde more than an argument would have done, because his father had always taught him that a business survives when rules apply to the people powerful enough to ignore them. Folarin said he had believed he was choosing between a daughter's future and an institutional principle. He had not seen that every private exception made it easier for somebody else to demand one. The restaurant incident, the fraud inquiry, and an old act of family protection had become part of one story.
Nkiru learned of the widening investigation through a formal letter from the group's legal office, not from television. It asked her and Tobi to attend a meeting to discuss the findings and a proposed settlement. She brought the letter home and placed it on the table beside his old laptop. He read it standing up, then sat when he reached the section offering compensation and correction of his employment reference. The amount was large enough to cover their overdue rent, repay relatives, and end the exhausting conversations with creditors.
"They are offering to clear my name," he said quietly.
"Read the next page."
Tobi turned it over and found the confidentiality requirement. The company would acknowledge that evidence did not support an allegation of theft, but the settlement restricted public discussion of the circumstances and the failures surrounding the original inquiry. Nkiru read the clause twice because she had spent months being asked to accept private explanations for public humiliation. She understood why Tobi wanted the offer. She also understood how it might allow the people responsible to survive without admitting the full truth.
"There will be compensation," he said. "A corrected reference. Enough to clear what we owe."
"And in exchange, your name is cleared privately."
"I want my life back, Nkiru. I'm tired of being the man everyone whispers about."
"So am I. But peace built on silence is what brought us here."
"Sometimes survival is the price," he answered. "We have been surviving for eight months. I don't know how much longer I can do it."