Nkiru returned to Akinwale headquarters the next day for her ethics review. On her way through the executive corridor, she passed a framed photograph of a school fundraiser. Temi stood beside a small boy and a man whose name was printed beneath the image: Deji Adeniran, her late husband. Nkiru stopped. Deji had raised Korede from birth until his death, she learned later, and the boy carried his surname. The photograph showed a family whose happiness could not be reduced to a disputed laboratory form. Nkiru thought of the question she'd asked Tobi: Show me the test. She began to fear what proving the truth might mean for the child himself.
Tunde met her in a smaller office and explained that the audit had uncovered irregularities consistent with alterations after Tobi's initial approval. He did not yet make a public announcement. He offered her an opportunity to meet with the auditors alongside her husband, with Janet present if she wished. Nkiru agreed only after clarifying that she would not become the company's spokesperson or be asked to defend its past decisions. "I came here to review guest experience," she reminded him. "You promised that work wouldn't depend on my husband's case." Tunde nodded. "It won't. The group has more than one problem to solve."
Before she left, Tunde asked whether she'd heard anything about an old paternity question involving Temi's child. Nkiru stared. "Why do you know about that?" He hesitated, then admitted that an anonymous message had reached his office warning him that the financial fraud and a concealed family matter were linked. The message contained no proof, only a reference to an archive marked KA08. Nkiru felt cold. The same family that controlled the company also seemed to control the timing of every revelation in her home. She stood. "If your family has documents about my husband, tell me what they are. Don't make me discover them one anonymous photograph at a time."
Tunde looked ashamed. "I'm trying to find out what is genuine." Nkiru moved toward the door. "Then start by admitting that people who weren't born Akinwale have paid the highest price for your family's uncertainty." She left him staring after her. In the elevator, her phone buzzed with a message from Tobi: Please come home. I have more to tell you. She held the phone without answering, exhausted by the number of times he had asked for one more conversation and the number of times she had believed it would be the last.
Tobi was waiting beside the window when Nkiru returned. The apartment smelled of onions and tomatoes; he had tried to cook dinner, something he had rarely done during the months after his dismissal. A pot simmered on the stove. He stood when she entered, but she lifted a hand to stop him from coming closer. "You said there was more," she reminded him. He turned off the gas and sat opposite her. His eyes were red, as though he had spent the afternoon rehearsing words that refused to stay in order.