THE CALL
272 Words
CHAPTER 8
Lagos. 11:30 PM.
Stephen’s office was dark. Only the city lights through the glass.
On his desk: two bank statements.
AMX-774. Dubai. 12,000,000 NGN.
Royal London Hospital. 20,000,000 NGN.
And a contract with Assumpta’s signature.
He dialed.
It rang twice.
“Amanda.”
Her voice was bright. Too bright. “Stephen! I was just about to call you. Chidi’s surgery—”
“Don’t,” he said.
Silence.
“The hospital called me,” he continued. Voice flat. Cold. “Two payments. One disappeared 4 hours later.”
Amanda laughed. Nervous. “What? That can’t be—”
“AMX-774. Dubai.”
The laugh died.
He heard her breathing. Fast.
“Stephen, I can explain—”
“You took 12 million,” he said. “For a boutique. While a child waited for treatment.”
“I was going to—”
“You were going to what?”
Another silence.
“Pack your things,” he said. “You have 24 hours to leave the estate.”
“What? No, Stephen, please—”
“And if I ever hear you contacted Assumpta or Chidi again, I will make sure AMX-774 is frozen. And AMX Luxe never opens.”
“Amanda?” she whispered.
“My name is Mr. Charles to you,” he said.
Click.
He hung up.
Outside, Lagos was loud. Inside, it was quiet.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number. London.
_He’s okay. Treatment starts tomorrow. Thank you._
Stephen stared at the text for a long time.
Then typed: _Good._
He put the phone down.
And for the first time in 10 years, he felt tired.
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