He looked wounded, and for a moment she hated how easily his pain invited her to comfort him. "You have to understand," he whispered. "I was frightened. I didn't want to damage our marriage, or her son's family." Nkiru stood. "You keep using fear as if it's permission. You made a decision that belonged to both of us and called it protection." He reached for her hand. She moved back. "Don't touch me. Not until you understand what you've done."
She left the apartment before dawn and went to Dolores Park near the waterfront, where she sat on a bench watching joggers pass under trees. The Lagos morning was humid, traffic already gathering along the roads. She cried there for the first time since the hotel photograph arrived. She cried for the wife she'd believed herself to be, for a little boy she had never met, for Tobi's lost career, and for the terrible possibility that the most painful part of the story was still concealed. When she stopped, she opened her phone and called Janet Ojo, a lawyer an old colleague had recommended.
Janet listened without interrupting as Nkiru described the financial case, her husband's former engagement, the paternity document, and the photograph. Then Janet made an appointment for later that morning. "You need independent advice," she said. "Not the company's counsel, not Tobi's former fiancee's family lawyer, and not somebody sent by the chairman. Your marriage and any future decisions involving the child are separate from the corporate review. We'll keep them separate as long as possible." Nkiru thanked her. She was beginning to learn that boundaries mattered even when everyone around her insisted a single family could resolve every problem.
Meanwhile, Tunde's forensic team traced the altered payment into three vendor accounts. The original four-point-two-million release had been directed to an approved logistics supplier. The excess thirty-seven-point-eight million passed through two intermediary vendors and one consulting entity whose corporate descriptions did not match the work claimed. Several invoices contained copied signatures, and at least one listed a service date on which the supposed project site had not been operating. Amaka Okoye presented the findings to the special committee, emphasizing that tracing money was not the same as proving who ordered each transfer.
A breakthrough came when a vendor's bank records showed eleven million naira moving into an investment vehicle associated with Remi Balogun's lifestyle business. Remi promoted beauty products, luxury events, and a small fashion label. Her company had launched a costly expansion shortly after the disputed transaction. Tunde reviewed the transfer path and said, "My cousin's investment from years ago taught us nothing, and now my CFO's daughter appears in the destination records." Amaka replied, "We haven't established that Remi knew the funds were improper. But her business received a benefit connected to the disputed payment. She must be asked what she knew."
Kunle Balogun arrived at the committee meeting prepared to be offended. He wore a dark suit, silver cuff links, and the expression of a man who had spent decades persuading others that his judgment settled questions. Tunde asked about the vendors. Kunle blamed procurement. He asked about the investment vehicle. Kunle said Remi raised money from several sources and managed her own business. Tunde asked whether Kunle had ever used Temi's executive terminal. "Perhaps during a board preparation," Kunle admitted. "That doesn't make me responsible for somebody else's fraud."