“That is useful.”
Nkiru’s expression cooled.
“I am not applying to become anybody’s evidence of good character.”
“Fair.”
She looked toward the door.
“May I go back to work?”
Fari spoke.
“Not yet.”
Nkiru turned.
He slid a document across the table.
“Your husband worked for us.”
Every muscle in her body tightened.
“This meeting was supposed to be about Meridian.”
“It was.”
Dapo answered.
“Then your file led us somewhere else.”
Nkiru looked at him.
“Do not connect my job to my husband’s case.”
“We are not offering you anything in exchange for his cooperation.”
“That was not my concern.”
“What is?”
“That you will turn defending your father into a debt I owe this family.”
Fari leaned back.
Dapo simply said:
“Reasonable.”
Then:
“We reopened your husband’s forensic review.”
Nkiru stopped breathing for a second.
“Why?”
“Because he consistently claimed the amount on the authorization he signed was altered after he approved it.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“And?”
Fari answered.
“Our auditors found evidence that it was.”
The room seemed to shift.
Nkiru sat.
Finally.
“How much did he approve?”
“Four million two hundred thousand naira.”
She closed her eyes.
The number.
She had seen it.
The previous night, while searching an old laptop Toby claimed no longer worked.
One scanned document.
Vendor approval.
4,200,000.
Then another image from the investigation file.
42,000,000.
She had stared at them until two in the morning.
“Whose terminal changed it?”
Fari glanced at his father.
Dapo said:
“An executive-level finance terminal.”
Nkiru opened her eyes.
“Whose?”
“We are still confirming access.”
That night, she confronted Toby.
She put the two documents on the table.
His face changed before he read them.
“Where did you get this?”
“Your old laptop.”
“Nkiru.”
“Your signature is on the approval.”
“Yes.”
“You told me you never authorized the payment.”
“I told you I never authorized forty-two million.”
She tapped the original.
“Four point two.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Toby sat.
“Vendor support contract.”
“Procurement had not completed verification.”
Silence.
Toby looked down.
“How do you know that?”
“It is in the file.”
“Nkiru.”
“Did procurement clear it?”
“No.”
“Then why did you sign?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Because someone asked me.”
“Who?”
He did not answer.
Nkiru’s voice lowered.
“Who?”
“Tami Akinwale.”
The name meant something even before the next truth arrived.
Executive director.
Dapo’s daughter.
Prominent in society photographs.
Widow of businessman Deji Adeyemi.
Mother of an eight-year-old son.
Nkiru stared.
“Why would Tami Akinwale ask you personally?”
Toby said nothing.
Nkiru sat opposite him.
“Did you know her before Akinwale Group?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Toby looked sick.
“We dated.”