"Kunle," she said. Tunde's pen paused. "What about him?" "I let him use my executive session once. For a board pack. I was leaving for Abuja and he said the finance documents were locked behind an access restriction." "When?" "Around that time. I can't remember the exact day." Tunde leaned back. "You gave the CFO access to your credentials?" She looked embarrassed. "For twenty minutes. I was rushing to the airport." "Did you report it?" "No. I thought he needed the pack, and he was the CFO."
Tunde wrote it down, furious that an executive who lectured junior employees about controls had ignored one of the most basic. He did not yet know whether Kunle had used the access to change the payment, but the explanation was important. Temi's terminal had no reliable separation between its assigned user and anyone she had permitted to operate within her session. Tunde ordered the device and its backups preserved. Temi objected to the implication of guilt; he responded that preservation was required regardless of who ultimately proved responsible.
That evening, Tobi received a message asking him to meet Temi privately. He hesitated before replying, then agreed to a brief conversation in the public lobby of a business hotel. He told himself he was going only to discuss the investigation. In truth, he also wanted to know whether the woman he had once loved had watched his disgrace from behind a corporate desk without trying to stop it. He didn't tell Nkiru about the meeting. Within an hour of arriving, he would understand how disastrous that omission was.
Temi was waiting beside a quiet seating area. She wore a pale blue blouse, carried a slim folder, and looked older than he remembered from the years when they planned a life together. "You shouldn't have come without a lawyer," she said as he sat. "You asked me here." "I wanted to warn you that finance is becoming dangerous." Tobi looked at her. "Finance was dangerous eight months ago. I lost my job." Temi stared at her hands. "I know." "Did you tell anyone the request was yours?" "I told Tunde today." "Eight months late," he said.
They spoke quietly until Tobi mentioned Nkiru. Temi's expression changed. "Does she know about us now?" "Yes." "How?" "Because you became part of the investigation, and I finally told her." Temi looked almost relieved. "It went too far when you let yourself be dismissed instead of explaining why you trusted me." Tobi's jaw tightened. "I was trying to protect my marriage." "From what? Me?" "From a history that was over." She leaned toward him. "History doesn't stay over when it starts making decisions for the present."
Tobi stood to leave. Temi stopped him with one final sentence. "She still doesn't know about the engagement, does she?" He turned back. "She knows." "And she knows how close we came to marrying?" "Yes, Temi. She knows." Temi studied his face. "Then don't tell her only the parts that protect you. You owe her more than that." The advice might have been wise if it hadn't come from someone whose own secrets were beginning to surface.