The attack began with paperwork.
Nnadi Construction’s bank delayed an approved loan.
Suppliers demanded payment before delivery.
Clients cancelled meetings.
Then Zara was called into her Director’s office.
He pushed a folder toward her.
“You are being removed from procurement cases while your relationship with Emeka Nnadi is reviewed.”
“I followed the evidence.”
“I know.”
“Then say that publicly.”
Her Director looked away.
“The Permanent Secretary has a long memory.”
“So do I.”
Outside, Emeka waited near the pavement.
The moment Zara saw him, her control weakened.
He opened his arms.
She walked into them.
“I did this to you,” he said.
“Dele did.”
“I can withdraw from the project.”
“No.”
“If I leave, the pressure may stop.”
“He does not want the bridge. He wants obedience.”
Emeka touched her face.
“I will not be the reason you lose everything.”
“You are not.”
Mariam called them to the hospital.
Daniel lay beneath white sheets, bruised and weak.
“AEGIS keeps a ledger,” he whispered.
“Where?” Zara asked.
“Idu warehouse.”
“What is inside it?”
“Approved item. Actual item. Difference. Beneficiary.”
Mariam stepped closer.
“Names?”
Daniel nodded.
“The bridge... school... hospital.”
“Who ordered your report changed?”
“Dele.”
The monitor began beeping rapidly.
A nurse ordered them out.
In the hallway, Adeyemi waited under police protection.
“The contractor on the school project tried to expose AEGIS,” he said.
“What happened?” Mariam asked.
“They called it a road accident. It was not. I saw Dele’s message.”
Emeka grabbed Adeyemi’s shirt.
“You knew someone died?!”
“I found out afterward!”
Zara stepped between them.
“Emeka! We need him alive and talking.”
Emeka released him.
That evening, he arrived at Zara’s flat carrying food and wearing Tom Ford Noir de Parfum.
“My father wore this,” he said. “I use it when I need to remember why doing the right thing can feel terrible.”
They ate on the balcony.
Abuja looked calm from a distance.
“I should have told you about Dele’s first approach,” Emeka said.
“Yes.”
“And the grey car.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid of losing you.”
“That is not an excuse.”
“I know.”
He looked at her.
“I did not refuse Dele only because it was right. I could not stand the thought of you believing I would choose success over you.”
Zara’s heart tightened.
“Emeka...”
“I know it is fast.”
“It is.”
“I know you are considering a speech.”
“I am.”
“Consider quietly.”
She kissed him.
The kiss began gently.
Then his hand moved around her waist and pulled her from the chair.
Inside the bedroom, Emeka pressed her against the closed door.
His mouth found the place beneath her ear where her pulse betrayed her.
His hands slid beneath her blouse—slowly, carefully.
Zara pulled his shirt free and ran her palms over his chest.
“Still investigating me?” he asked against her neck.
“Be quiet.”
“That is not an answer.”
His hand moved higher.
Her breath broke.
The teasing left his face.
“Tell me what you want.”
Zara had spent years hiding desire behind control.
Not tonight.
“You.”
“Say it properly.”
She pulled him closer.
“I want you.”
Clothing fell between the door and the bed.
His perfume deepened with the heat of his skin.
His hands learned where pressure made her gasp, where a slower touch made her hold him tighter.
Zara stopped being careful.
She pushed him onto the bed and climbed over him.
For once, Emeka had no joke ready.
“Still confident?” she whispered.
“More than ever.”
The rest became breath, hands, broken sentences and the soft loss of control Zara had always feared.
Afterward, she rested against his chest.
“You are thinking,” he said.
“I am always thinking.”
“Sometimes you are planning murder.”
“And now?”
“Now you are deciding whether to regret me.”
His phone lit up.
A photograph showed him entering Zara’s building.
Beneath it was a message.
The engineer who copied that report did not make it home.
Then another.
Neither will you.