Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Raised a King
Shola did not accuse Yemisi immediately.
That surprised Femi.
He expected anger.
Instead, Shola asked for documents.
“My mother is dead. Your parents are dead. We cannot interrogate grief.”
Dele had kept copies of payroll records proving Bisi reported pension diversions.
But nothing proved Yemisi caused the highway accident that killed Femi's parents.
Police records from fifteen years earlier showed a tire failure during heavy rain.
No sabotage evidence.
Shola refused to turn suspicion into fact.
“We expose what we can prove.”
Femi looked at her for a long moment.
“You would have been a dangerous lawyer.”
“I couldn't afford law school.”
The comment landed more heavily than she intended.
Femi said quietly, “One day, if you still want it—”
“No.”
He stopped.
“I will decide what I still want. Not you.”
A faint smile.
“Understood.”
The company investigation continued.
Morrow Holdings controlled thirteen percent of Sterling Group voting shares.
Enough to swing major board decisions.
The beneficiary documents named future descendants of the late Adewale Ademola—Femi's father.
That meant Femi's children.
The twins.
Shola reread the clause.
“When they're born, what happens?”
Femi's general counsel explained.
Their existence activated an old succession mechanism.
Certain family shares currently administered by the stewardship trust would transfer into a protected generational trust.
Yemisi would lose voting control over them.
“How many?”
“Enough that she would no longer be the most powerful swing vote on the board.”
The room became quiet.
Now the prenatal schedule theft had motive.
Shola looked at Femi.
“Someone doesn't need to kill me.”
His face hardened.
“They only need the children not to be born.”
He moved her out of the main family house that same afternoon.
Not because he wanted distance.
Because too many longtime staff reported indirectly to Yemisi.
Shola chose the new apartment herself.
Femi wanted a fortified estate.
She selected a quiet serviced residence near her hospital.
“You enjoy making security people suffer,” he told her.
“They need hobbies.”
Yemisi arrived uninvited the next morning.
She wore white.
Perfect makeup.
Controlled expression.
“I heard you've moved my nephew out of his own house.”
Shola almost laughed.
“Femi chose where he sleeps.”
“Men in love make foolish decisions.”
“Then perhaps women who raised them should trust their work.”
Yemisi's smile cooled.
“You are very confident for someone who entered this family through a contract.”
“I didn't ask to enter it.”
“No. You merely accepted.”
There it was.
Contempt wrapped in elegance.
Yemisi sat.
“I know women like you.”
Shola's face became still.
“Do you?”
“Smart. Proud. Poor. Angry at the world. Then a wealthy man notices them and suddenly everything becomes destiny.”
“My mother was poor too.”
Yemisi's fingers tightened around her handbag.
Shola noticed.
“You remember her?”
“No.”
“You fired her.”
“Sterling has employed thousands.”
“Bisi Akinwale.”
Silence.
Then Yemisi smiled.
“An accounts clerk with poor judgment.”
Shola's pulse accelerated.
“You do remember.”
“She accused senior executives without understanding cash-flow timing.”
“She accused you.”
“She accused everyone.”
“Then why did you remember her after fifteen years?”
Yemisi stood.
“You should be careful with Dele Balogun.”
Shola had never mentioned Dele.
The room froze.
Yemisi realized her mistake.
Too late.
Femi entered from the adjoining room.
He had heard everything.
“Auntie.”
For the first time, Yemisi looked genuinely shaken.
“You were listening?”
“This is my home.”
“This is not your home. It's a temporary apartment because that girl has filled your head with paranoia.”
Femi's expression changed.
“Her name is Shola.”
“I raised you.”
“Yes.”
“When your mother died, who stayed awake when you screamed at night?”
“You.”
“Who protected you from the board?”
“You.”
“Who kept this company together?”
“You.”
Yemisi's eyes filled.
“Then why are you letting a woman you barely know turn you against me?”
Femi looked wounded.
But Shola saw something else.
He was finally separating gratitude from obedience.
“I am asking questions,” he said.
“You never questioned me before.”
“That may be the problem.”
Yemisi slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Everyone froze.
She stared at her own hand.
Femi did not move.
Then she whispered, “Your father would be ashamed.”
Femi's face went cold.
“Leave.”
“Femi—”
“Leave.”
Afterward, he stood by the window for nearly an hour.
Shola did not touch him.
Eventually he said, “I still love her.”
“I know.”
“What if she did all of it?”
“Then you can love someone and still refuse to protect what they did.”
That sentence stayed with him.
Two nights later, Ngozi appeared outside Shola's apartment crying.
Security almost removed her.
Shola allowed her into the lobby.
Ngozi looked completely different without office confidence.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what part?”
“All of it.”
“Why now?”
“Because Chuka threatened me.”
Ngozi admitted she had been told to harass Shola from the day she joined Sterling.
“By Chuka?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said you were dangerous.”
“To whom?”
“He never said.”
The watch accusation had been Chuka's idea.
So had the cold-room errand.
But Ngozi claimed she did not lock the door.
“Chuka told me only to send you there.”
“Then who locked it?”
“I don't know.”
She pulled out her phone.
“I recorded him yesterday.”
On the audio, Chuka sounded furious.
“You were supposed to make her quit before she became a family problem.”
Ngozi asked, “Why does Mrs. Yemisi care about some junior employee?”
Chuka answered:
“Because once those babies breathe, everything changes.”
Femi heard the recording twice.
Then a third time.
His face became unreadable.
His phone rang before anyone spoke.
Dr. Victor.
Shola's latest bloodwork had been altered inside the hospital system.
Someone had changed her chart to indicate a medication allergy she did not have.
And an elective procedure had been scheduled in her name for the following morning.
May you like
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A procedure Shola had never requested.
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