Finding Love

The Uninvited Storm

**The Email That Changes Everything**

Jane stared at her laptop screen, the cursor blinking like a dare. The hum of the fridge filled her apartment, a dull backdrop to the storm in her mind.

She kept replaying the memory—Nathaniel’s hands gripping the balcony rail earlier, the veins taut with tension. The way he said *“I won’t let you take the fall”* hit her like a punch straight to the chest.

Was she making a mistake? Trusting him? Trusting herself?

Her thumb hovered over her phone. She read Tara’s last message again:

*“Stop spiraling. If he’s trash, we’ll bury him. But what if he’s not?”*

With a sharp breath, Jane clicked *Send*.

**Mama’s Surprise Visit**

The taxi ride to the motor park was a blur of honking cars and churning thoughts. Abuja’s heat felt like a physical weight, suffocating and relentless. Her blouse clung to her back by the time she spotted Mama—glowing in a sunflower-yellow *gele* and wearing a scowl that could spoil milk.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Jane said, struggling with Mama’s massive bag—definitely packed for a month, not a weekend.

“And miss the look on your face?” Mama adjusted her *gele* with a sniff. “Your father says hello. And by ‘hello,’ I mean, ‘When is my daughter coming home?’”

Jane clenched her jaw. The guilt trip smelled as familiar as Mama’s lavender perfume.

**The Unwelcome Reunion**

Mama's inspection of Jane’s apartment was thorough—and merciless. She paused at the lone photo on the shelf: Jane on graduation day, beaming, Jide’s arm around her waist.

“You still keep this?” Mama’s voice softened, unexpectedly.

Jane grabbed the frame and stuffed it into a drawer. “It’s a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“That I survived.”

Mama’s lips pressed thin. “Surviving isn’t living, *ọmọ mi*. You think I don’t see you—working like a ghost? No friends. No husband—”

“I *have* friends. And a *career*,” Jane snapped.

“A career that’s about to collapse,” Mama countered, pulling up an email on her phone. “Jide’s mother sent me this. The whole town is talking.”

Jane felt the blood drain from her face.

*How did she even get that email?*

**The Truth from Amara’s Lips**

The Hilton lobby gleamed with marble and hushed elegance, but Amara’s energy was electric—sharp enough to slice through silence.

Up close, Jane noticed a thin white scar on Amara’s wrist, barely visible beneath her cuff.

“Lagos fallout?” Jane asked.

Amara smirked. “Glass shards. I threw my Ayocom trophy through a window.” She sipped her tea. “Nathaniel didn’t mention that part, did he?”

Jane said nothing.

“Dele doctored the reports,” Amara continued. “I didn’t know at first, but when I found out—I still looked the other way. Until I couldn’t. Nathaniel went to the board like some righteous hero... but he *knew*. He approved Dele’s shady deals for *months*.”

Jane’s stomach churned. “So he’s a hypocrite.”

“No,” Amara said quietly. “He’s *human*.” She leaned in. “But ask yourself—

Is he helping you out of guilt?

Or because you’re *useful*?”

**Linda’s Masterstroke**

Tara yanked Jane into the office bathroom, locking the door behind them.

“Listen,” she whispered, peeking under the stalls. “Linda’s not just after you. She’s been digging into Nathaniel for weeks. She wants *him*.”

Jane’s phone buzzed. An encrypted file. No name. No message. Just footage.

Timestamps.

Linda.

Accessing Jane’s computer.

After hours.

Tara’s eyes widened. “Holy s**t. This is your golden ticket.”

Jane’s hands trembled.

*Who would send this to me?*

**Nathaniel’s Choice**

Nathaniel’s office was dim, lit only by his laptop screen. He didn’t look up when Jane dropped the flash drive on his desk.

“You knew,” she said.

He removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suspected.”

“And you didn’t *warn* me?”

“Would you have believed me?” His voice was rough. “Or would I just be another man trying to control your life?”

The words stung.

Because they were true.

**Mama’s Ultimatum**

The slap came fast—hot and sharp across Jane’s cheek.

“You disrespect me in my own house?” Mama’s voice trembled with rage.

“This is *my* house!” Jane snapped, hand on her burning cheek. “And I won’t let you bully me into being small again!”

Mama’s eyes shimmered. “You think I want you small? *I want you safe.* Do you know what they call women like you back home? *Ọlọ́jà*—the one who fights the market crowd alone. They admire you... until you fall. Then they *feast*.”

Jane froze.

For the first time, she heard it.

Not just anger.

Fear.

The Call from Dele

The phone rang three times before Dele answered, his voice a gravelly mix of Lagos street-smarts and old money. “Ms. Ajayi. I wondered how long it’d take you to call.”

Jane stood on her apartment balcony, the city lights below blurring as she gripped the railing. “You said Linda contacted you. Why?”

A cigarette crackled on his end. “Same reason she’s after you—power. She wants Ayocom’s board to oust Nathaniel. Needs ‘evidence’ he hasn’t changed.”

“And you agreed?”

“I’m a businessman, not a saint.” A pause. “But I’m also not a fool. Linda’s the type to promise gold and pay in sand.”

The recording hit Jane’s inbox—a crisp audio file of Linda’s voice:

*“Dele, darling, we both know Nathaniel’s ‘redemption’ is a PR stunt. Help me expose him, and I’ll make sure you’re the one holding the knife this time.”*

Jane’s breath caught. “What do you want from me?”

Dele exhaled smoke. “I want you to give this to Nathaniel. Let him hear how deep her claws go.”

“Why not send it yourself?”

“Because he’d delete it unopened. But you?” A bitter chuckle. “He’ll listen to you.”

The line went dead.

Jane stared at the recording icon on her screen, its red pulse mirroring her heartbeat. Trusting Dele felt like swallowing broken glass, but Linda’s venom left no choice.