source. Now her legal adviser explained that receiving money without knowing it was stolen did not automatically make her criminally responsible, but she might still have obligations to disclose, account for, and return proceeds connected to fraud. Remi read the banking statements and realized that her ignorance was something her father had been careful to cultivate.
She confronted Kunle in his study. The walls were lined with awards, framed certificates, and photographs of men who had praised his stewardship. "Where did the eleven million come from?" she asked. He looked up from a spreadsheet. "An investment. We discussed it." "From which investor?" "A vehicle I arranged." "What's the source of the vehicle's funds?" Kunle put down his pen. "Remi, this is not the time to play investigator." She looked at him. "Did you use company money to fund my business?" His expression didn't change quickly enough.
He stood. "You have no idea how finance works." She remained in the doorway. "Then explain it." "Go home. Let the lawyers deal with this." Remi looked around the expensive room, then at the watch on her wrist. For the first time she wondered how much of the comfort surrounding her depended on refusing to ask questions. She had humiliated a stranger for purchasing one bowl of soup while she wore jewelry bought with money she had never examined. Shame rose in her so sharply that she could barely answer. "If the money is stolen," she said, "I will help return it. Whether you approve or not."
The following evening Nkiru received a call from Temi's office inviting her to a private conversation. Janet advised that she had no obligation to attend and suggested that any discussions touching the employment matter should be recorded through counsel. But Nkiru wanted answers about the child and the old DNA test, matters that felt too personal to settle through formal letters. They agreed to meet at a neutral office with Janet available nearby. Temi arrived without an assistant. She wore no jewelry except her wedding band, which she still kept after Deji's death.
"You shouldn't have found out through a photograph," Temi began. Nkiru looked at her. "Everybody keeps telling me there was no correct way to find out. Yet all of you had years to choose an ordinary one." Temi accepted the criticism without arguing. Nkiru asked her to explain the timeline. Korede had been born during Temi's marriage to Deji Adeniran. Deji had loved and raised the child, although the pregnancy dates had been difficult to reconcile. Temi believed there was a possibility that Tobi was the biological father because their relationship had ended near the relevant period. She had tried to dismiss the question until anxiety drove her to ask Tobi to meet in Abuja.
"What happened inside the hotel room?" Nkiru asked. Temi looked down. "I told him the dates didn't make sense. I told him Korede might be his. I asked whether he was happy." "Did you ask him to leave me?" Temi hesitated. "I asked whether we had made a mistake ending our relationship." "Six months after he married me," Nkiru said. Temi looked ashamed. "Yes. He refused. He said he loved you and wasn't leaving his marriage." Nkiru breathed slowly. She felt no triumph in the answer, only sadness that a refusal could coexist with such profound concealment.