Tami stared at the report.
“From the day Kede was born.”
“And you waited until after Toby married me.”
“I tried to leave it alone.”
“Until Abuja.”
Tami nodded.
“What happened inside that hotel room?”
“I told him the dates never made sense.”
“I told him Kede might be his.”
“Did you ask my husband to leave me?”
Tami’s eyes filled.
“Not directly.”
“That is a coward’s answer.”
“I asked whether he was happy.”
Nkiru laughed once.
“Six months into my marriage.”
“I was frightened.”
“So you reached for somebody else’s husband.”
“He refused me.”
Nkiru stopped.
“Immediately?”
“Yes.”
Tami’s voice broke.
“He told me he loved you.”
“He said even if Kede was his, he would not rebuild our old relationship.”
That should have comforted Nkiru.
It did not.
Not yet.
“Then?”
“My father arrived the next morning.”
“He knew why Toby was there.”
“Yes.”
“He arranged the DNA test.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Tami looked toward the window.
“Because he wanted the matter finished.”
“For whom?”
“Everybody.”
“That word again.”
Nkiru pointed to the report.
“Did you see the original laboratory result?”
Tami hesitated.
“My father showed me the same report Toby received.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Silence.
“No.”
Nkiru picked up the copy.
“There is no chain of custody.”
“I know.”
“There is no direct laboratory release.”
“I know.”
“Then how do either of you know this is real?”
Tami stared at her.
Neither woman spoke.
The real report appeared four days later.
Renée Balogun brought it.
That was the part nobody expected.
Renée had changed since the restaurant video went viral.
Not publicly at first.
Online, she defended herself.
Called the conflict “a staged misunderstanding.”
Suggested employees sometimes manufactured confrontations to gain attention from powerful customers.
Then investigators seized records from her father’s office.
Her company appeared in the money trail.
Sponsors began asking questions.
For the first time, Renée’s father stopped being an invisible source of privilege and became a possible liability.
She searched one of Kunle’s recovered archive drives.
Inside was a folder.
KA08.
Renée requested a private meeting with Nkiru in the underground car park beneath Johnson House.
Nkiru almost refused.
Then went.
Renée stood beside a black SUV.
No entourage.
No perfect posture.
She held a thick envelope.
“You sent me the hotel video?”
Nkiru asked.
Renée shook her head.
“No.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Because I found this after investigators took my father’s office computers.”
“Why give it to me?”
“Your husband’s name is everywhere.”
Renée handed over the envelope.
Nkiru opened it.
Laboratory file.
Kede Adeyemi.
Alleged father:
Tobechukwu Eze.
Sample identifiers.
Dates.
Original chain-of-custody references.
Then the conclusion.
Probability of paternity:
99.9987%.
Nkiru stopped breathing.
“No.”
“The laboratory numbers match the copy you received?”
“Yes.”
“Someone could create this.”