For the first time that morning, Tunde was grateful his father had forbidden a simple punishment and apology. The woman facing him was not interested in being praised for a viral act; she wanted the same rules enforced when cameras were absent. He explained that the group would review service culture and staffing practices across Meridian locations. Before he could ask whether she might contribute, Ifeoma knocked at the door with an urgent expression. Ronke Balogun had posted another video, claiming that Nkiru had engineered the confrontation to attract the attention of powerful people.
"My communications people will respond," Tunde said.
"No," Nkiru answered. "They should stay out of my name unless I approve what they say. I don't want strangers fighting a publicity war in which I have to keep proving I didn't plan to meet an old man."
Tunde studied her in silence. "Your husband was this difficult, too."
The change in her face was small but unmistakable. "You knew my husband?"
"He worked here," Tunde said. "I knew his name. I did not know him well enough, apparently."
Nkiru felt the room tilt under the weight of that answer. Tobi had told her the executive office had destroyed his reputation, that people with wealth and connections had decided he was guilty because it was convenient. Now she was sitting across from the company's chief executive, who could restore her shifts with one call and speak casually of the man whose life had collapsed. She kept her hands clasped in her lap to stop herself from reaching across the desk for the folder. There were questions she wanted to ask, but she refused to ask them as the price of getting her job back.
"I will return to work when the corrected schedule reaches me," she said, standing. "Anything about my husband should go through his lawyer."
"That's fair," Tunde replied. "And if we uncover something that should have been examined more carefully eight months ago, you'll hear it from him first."
"Then examine it carefully this time."
That evening, Tobi was waiting in the flat when Nkiru came home. He had heard from a former colleague that she had visited the Akinwale headquarters, and the news had reached him before she could explain it herself. He asked why she had gone there, and she told him the chief executive had summoned her to correct the suspension. Tobi's relief vanished when she mentioned Tunde's interest in the old fraud case. "Stay away from those people," he said, with an urgency that sounded less like advice than fear.
"They own the restaurant where I work," Nkiru answered. "And the company that dismissed you. How exactly am I supposed to stay away?"
"Leave the job. Find something else."
"With what money, Tobi? We have borrowed rent twice. Your mother thinks you're consulting because you won't tell her the truth, and I have been covering the difference between the bills and whatever your pride can bear."
He looked away, and she hated that she had begun to recognize the movement. "I was framed," he said.