THE PRICE OF GREED

Madam Ronke Adebayo was smiling when the stranger arrived at her gate. It was her fifty-second birthday, and for once, she had allowed herself to enjoy a celebration without worrying about business. Her Lekki home was filled with guests, expensive decorations, and the smell of freshly prepared food. Waiters moved between tables carrying trays of drinks and small chops while soft music played across the garden. Dressed in a wine-coloured lace gown, Ronke stood near the entrance, welcoming friends and business associates. At fifty-two, she remained an elegant woman, with an air of confidence that came from years of building a life many people could only dream of. "Madam Ronke, you don't look a day over forty!" one of her guests declared. Ronke laughed. "You people will say anything to make me happy." "Then allow us to do our job!" Their laughter joined the music. Across the garden, Dami, Ronke's twenty-four-year-old daughter, was chatting with a group of guests. She had inherited her father's thoughtful eyes and her own habit of asking questions others preferred to avoid. Ronke watched her with affection. She had raised Dami from infancy, nursing her through childhood illnesses and staying awake during examination periods. After Samuel, her husband, died seven years ago, Dami had become one of the strongest reasons Ronke found the courage to keep moving. People said time healed everything. Ronke had learned that time did not always heal. Sometimes, it simply taught you how to live around the pain. Samuel had died after a brief illness. The doctors had explained what they could, and the family had buried him. Eventually, Ronke returned to managing their businesses. She now owned two supermarkets and several rental properties, and she had worked hard to keep the family financially secure. But there were still moments when she wished she could ask Samuel a simple question and hear his answer. Today, she had decided not to dwell on the past. "Mummy!" Dami approached with two glasses of juice and handed one to her. "You've been standing here for almost an hour. At least sit down before your guests mistake you for the reception manager." Ronke raised an eyebrow. "And who will welcome everybody if I sit down?" "The people you paid to welcome everybody." "You always have an answer." "I learned from you." Ronke laughed and touched her daughter's cheek. "Go and enjoy yourself. Stop monitoring me." Dami kissed her cheek before returning to her friends. Ronke watched her go, satisfied that she had given her daughter a good life. Whatever difficulties she had faced, she had never doubted her love for Dami. She had no reason to doubt it now. At the gate, however, the security guard was having a difficult afternoon. "Mr man, you cannot enter like that," he told the stranger standing outside. "This is a private celebration." "I'm not here for the party." The man looked to be in his late fifties. His shirt had faded around the collar, and dust covered his shoes. A long scar ran from his forehead towards his cheek, making his face appear permanently tense. He carried no gift and wore no expression of celebration. "What do you want, then?" the guard asked. "I need to speak to Madam Adebayo." "Do you have an appointment?" "No." "Then you cannot see her." The stranger glanced past him towards the garden. "Please tell her someone has come to ask about Samuel Adebayo." The guard's expression changed. "Who are you?" "Someone who knew him." "Many people knew the late Mr Adebayo." "Not the way I did." The guard studied him suspiciously before walking towards the house. Left alone, the stranger reached into his pocket and touched an old photograph. He had rehearsed what he intended to say throughout the journey, but now that he was finally outside Ronke's home, the words seemed difficult to deliver. Twenty-four years was a long time to remain silent. Perhaps too long. --- Ronke was speaking to a family friend when the guard approached. "Madam, sorry to disturb you." She turned. "What is it?" "There's a man at the gate asking to see you. He says he knew Mr Samuel." "Did he give you his name?" "He only said he wants to speak to you personally." Ronke glanced at the guests. She did not want a disturbance, but the mention of Samuel had unsettled her. "Bring him to the entrance. I'll speak to him there." A minute later, the stranger stood before her. Ronke studied his scarred face but could not recognise him. "Good afternoon," she said cautiously. "I understand you knew my husband." "Good afternoon, ma." "What is your name?" "David." "David what?" He hesitated. "David is enough for now." Ronke's expression hardened. "If you knew my husband, I expect you to tell me your full name." "I understand." "Then explain why you're here." David reached into his shirt pocket and brought out an old photograph. Its edges had softened with age, and one corner was bent. Ronke took it. Three men stood outside a building. One of them was Samuel. She knew his face immediately. He looked younger, with a fuller head of hair and the confident expression he had worn during the early years of their marriage. Her fingers tightened around the photograph. "Where did you get this?" "It was taken a long time ago." "I can see that. Who are the other men?" David looked at the picture before answering. "Your husband was trying to find something. Something connected to St Mary's Hospital, twenty-four years ago." Ronke looked up sharply. "What are you talking about?" "Samuel was closer to the truth than most people realised." A burst of laughter came from the garden. Someone called Ronke's name, asking her to join a photograph, but she barely heard it. "What truth?" David's eyes moved towards the gate. "Questions you should have asked a long time ago." "You're standing in my home, showing me a photograph of my late husband, and speaking in riddles. If you have something to tell me, say it plainly." For the first time, Ronke noticed the fear beneath his guarded expression. "I'm sorry, ma. I cannot explain everything here." "Then why come?" "Because I made a mistake a long time ago, and someone else paid for it." Before she could ask what he meant, David turned and walked away. "Wait!" He stopped but did not face her. "Why bring this to me if you're refusing to explain?" "Look at the photograph again when you're alone," he said. "You may understand why I came." Then he continued towards the gate. Ronke watched him disappear beyond the compound wall. She turned the photograph over. The back was blank. No names, no date, no explanation. Only the three men remained, frozen in a moment from a past she knew nothing about. --- Ronke returned to the celebration, determined not to let one strange encounter ruin her birthday. She greeted guests, accepted gifts, and stood beside Dami for photographs. But her thoughts kept returning to the photograph inside her handbag. When the last guests finally left, the house grew quiet. Dami helped arrange the remaining gifts in the sitting room before heading upstairs. "Mummy, you were unusually quiet towards the end," she said. "Are you sure everything is fine?" "I'm just tired." Dami studied her face. "You know you can tell me anything, don't you?" Ronke smiled. "Of course." Dami kissed her forehead and went upstairs. Once alone, Ronke removed the photograph and sat beneath the warm light of a standing lamp. She examined Samuel's face again. He was not smiling. His expression looked serious, almost troubled. The man beside him held a file, while Samuel seemed to be looking at something outside the frame. Ronke tried to remember the final year of her husband's life. There had been late nights in his study and telephone calls he sometimes took outside. When she asked about work, he would tell her not to worry. She had assumed he was dealing with business problems. Shortly before his death, she had once found him standing beside a locked drawer in his study. "What are you looking for?" she had asked. "Something I need to settle." "Can I help?" He had closed the drawer. "There are things a man must settle before he can rest." At the time, she thought he meant his businesses. Now, the memory made her uneasy. Ronke walked into the study. Samuel's books still lined the shelves, and his desk remained near the window. She had kept most of his belongings untouched since his death. Standing before the locked drawer, she wondered what he had considered important enough to hide. Her phone rang. Regina's name appeared on the screen. Ronke answered. "Hello, my dear." "Have you rested at all?" Regina asked. "You looked exhausted when I left." "I'm fine. I was just looking through a few things." "Don't start working tonight. It's your birthday. You deserve a proper rest." Ronke hesitated. Regina had been her closest friend for years, the woman she trusted with her worries and private thoughts. "Regina, do you remember Samuel mentioning St Mary's Hospital?" There was a brief silence. "St Mary's?" Regina repeated. "Why are you asking?" "A man came to the house today with an old photograph of Samuel. He said my husband was investigating something connected to the hospital." Regina gave a small laugh. "People will say anything to get money from a wealthy widow. Did he ask you for money?" "No." "Then don't give him a second thought. If he comes back, tell your security team to send him away." Ronke looked at the photograph. "Perhaps you're right." "Of course I am. Get some sleep, and we'll talk tomorrow." They said goodbye. Ronke lowered her phone, but Regina's brief silence stayed in her mind. Perhaps it meant nothing. Anyone would be surprised by such an unusual question. Still, something about the conversation had left her uncomfortable. She returned to the photograph and examined it once more. The sign behind the three men was partly obscured, but she could make out enough letters to recognise the hospital's name. St Mary's. Twenty-four years ago. What had Samuel been doing there? Ronke placed the photograph on his desk and looked at the locked drawer. For seven years, she had believed there was nothing left to learn about her husband's death. Tonight, for the first time, she was no longer certain. And somewhere in Lagos, David was making his way home, knowing that he had taken the first step towards exposing a secret that had remained buried for twenty-four years. He had shown Ronke the photograph. Now he could only hope she would ask the right questions before someone discovered what he had done. But the question was no longer whether the truth would come out. It was who would be destroyed when it does. TO BE CONTINUED......