Chapter 53
He inspected her from over the top of his demi-glasses, fingers steepled on top of his wooden desk. “Sit down, Ms. Yusuf.”
Farida paced away from his desk, toward the east wall holding up framed photocopies of newspaper articles. She folded her arms across her bosom. “You have to stop this. Stop writing untruths about my fiancé and his family.”
Emeka Mba shook his head. “I just write the facts.”
“Facts? What facts?” She made a U-turn and stamped to his desk, glaring down at him. His black shirt did nothing to dim the clashing colours in his blue, purple and pink patterned tie. The multitude of lines and wrinkles on his face made her wonder. Was it possible to iron a human face? “You don’t write the facts. You only report lies.”
The reporter tore the glasses off his face and
