CONTRACTS AND CONSEQUENCES

Chapter 7: Secrets and Shadows

Adebola felt the weight of the boardroom vote pressing on her chest as she stepped into her office. The morning had been a whirlwind: Morenike’s subtle smiles, whispered alliances, and the reminder from several board members that her leadership was now “questionable.” It was enough to make her head spin, but she refused to show it. Not here. Not now.

Chinedu was already there, leaning casually against the window sill, his sharp eyes scanning the city below. “How are you holding up?” he asked quietly.

Adebola forced a small smile. “Surviving,” she admitted. “Barely.”

He came closer, placing a hand lightly on her desk. “Morenike won this round, but it doesn’t mean she’s untouchable.”

Adebola nodded, her mind racing. She knew Chinedu was right. Morenike had always relied on patience, strategy, and subtle intimidation. But Adebola had something more: determination, and the emotional fire her father had instilled in her.

A soft knock interrupted them. “Come in,” Adebola called.

Nora, her secretary, entered with a thin envelope. “This came for you this morning,” she said. “No return address.”

Adebola opened it carefully. Inside was a single sheet of paper:

“Be careful who you trust. Some shadows linger longer than the sun. – M”

Adebola’s pulse quickened. The handwriting was unmistakably Morenike’s. She crumpled the note in her fist and forced herself to breathe.

Chinedu’s hand found hers on the desk. “We’ll figure it out,” he said firmly. “But first, you need a plan.”

Adebola leaned back in her chair, thinking. A plan. That meant strategy. That meant patience. And patience had always been one of her strengths.

The afternoon passed in a blur of emails, calls, and urgent memos. Adebola barely noticed the hours ticking by, consumed with preparing counter-strategies for Morenike’s subtle attacks. It was during one particularly tense moment, when a message popped up from a junior board member, that she finally allowed herself a small break.

“Ma’am… I think someone’s feeding Morenike insider information. We need to be careful.”

Adebola’s stomach twisted. Someone she had trusted… betraying her?

Chinedu looked over her shoulder at the screen. “We suspected this,” he said. “That’s why I suggested reviewing every internal report and memo personally. We can’t leave anything to chance.”

Adebola exhaled sharply. “I hate feeling like I can’t trust anyone.”

“You’re learning what leadership really costs,” Chinedu said softly. “It’s not just about making decisions. It’s about who stands behind you, and who will stab you in the back when you’re not looking.”

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the world outside the office ceased to exist. The tension between them had been building for months — subtle touches, lingering glances, conversations that skirted the edges of something more intimate. Adebola felt it now, sharp and undeniable, but there was no time to explore it. Not when her father’s health and the company’s future were at stake.

Later that evening, Adebola found herself walking through the empty corridors of Lawson Holdings. The building was silent except for the occasional hum of the air conditioning. She paused outside the boardroom, staring at the polished glass doors. Morenike had just left, but the room still carried her presence — the faint perfume, the cool authority. Adebola shivered.

A sudden memory flared in her mind — brief, sharp, and unexpected.

Flashback:

She was fourteen, sitting in the boardroom with her father while Morenike presented a proposal. Adebola had watched her father carefully, noting the way he leaned forward, the way he asked questions, probing deeper than any of the adults could see. It was the first time she realized business wasn’t just about money — it was about power, perception, and control. Morenike had smiled politely at her father but shot a small, sly glance at her — a warning that even she, young as she was, would have to fight for her place someday.

End flashback.

Adebola clenched her fists. Some things never changed. Morenike’s tactics were the same, subtle but precise, but Adebola wasn’t the same girl anymore.

Back in her office, Adebola reviewed the board reports one by one. Every suspicious transaction, every internal memo, every email chain was scrutinized. Hours passed, but finally, a pattern emerged — a leak of information had been traced to one specific member. Someone she had considered an ally.

Her chest tightened. Betrayal wasn’t new to her, but this… this was personal.

Chinedu appeared quietly behind her chair. “Did you find it?” he asked.

Adebola nodded slowly. “Yes… but confronting this person will be tricky. We need proof, and we need strategy. If Morenike finds out we’re onto her, she’ll escalate.”

He leaned down, his voice low. “Then we do what your father would do. Play the long game. Watch, wait, and strike when the time is right.”

Adebola’s lips twitched into a small, grim smile. “You really have a way of making everything sound simple.”

Chinedu smiled faintly. “Simple doesn’t mean easy.”

The room grew quiet. For a fleeting moment, Adebola felt the tug of emotion she had been trying to suppress all day. Her heart skipped as Chinedu’s hand brushed hers while passing a folder. She looked up, caught his gaze, and felt a warmth that was part fear, part longing.

“Adebola…” he began, but then a phone buzz interrupted them.

It was a call from the hospital. Her father’s doctor.

“Ms. Lawson… your father’s condition is stabilizing, but the recovery is fragile. We may have a chance, but he’ll need someone to oversee the decisions closely. We recommend you be involved.”

Adebola’s stomach twisted. Relief and fear battled inside her. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself feel both.

When she opened them, Chinedu’s expression was gentle. “We’ll handle this,” he said. “Together.”

For a second, she let herself imagine a life where her father recovered, the company thrived, and she could finally breathe. And in that moment, Chinedu’s hand lingered near hers — not a touch, not a kiss, but a promise.

She smiled faintly. “Together,” she whispered, the word tasting like both hope and defiance.

Outside, the city lights glimmered against the Lagos skyline, endless and unyielding. Inside the office, Adebola felt the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders — but also the spark of determination. Morenike would not see her fall easily. And Chinedu would be at her side every step of the way.

This battle was far from over — but for the first time in months, Adebola felt the stirrings of control.

And the shadows of the past? They would be weapons, not chains.