Lola barely had time to process the weight of the conversation before Yemi shut down. His posture was rigid, his eyes colder than she had seen in a long time. Something was different this time, something deeper than frustration or stress. This wasn’t just about Desmond, Charles, or even the company. This was personal.
He paced the length of the room, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides, as if he was trying to contain the storm building inside him. Lola had seen Yemi angry before. She had seen him fight and argue and go to war with his enemies. But she had never seen him like this—with this kind of restraint, like he was teetering on the edge of something even he didn’t understand.
“Just say it,” she finally said, unable to take the silence anymore.
Yemi stopped mid-step a
