The 10 Million Naira Wife

Chapter 4: Bathroom CEO

Bathroom," I choked out to Khalil, already backing away. "Too much champagne."

It was a lie. I hadn't touched a drop.

Khalil's eyes narrowed. "The ladies' room is that way." He pointed left.

I went right. Toward the service corridor.

My clutch was vibrating non-stop now. NairaFlow's board. Seven sharks waiting for Anon to show up and save the ₦50 billion government contract from KolaTech.

From Dami. Who was 20 feet away and still staring at me like he'd seen a ghost.

I ducked into a janitor's closet. Locked it. Dialed.

"You're late," snapped my CFO, Kemi. "The Minister is on the call."

"Put me on," I hissed, yanking my earrings off. Anon never wore jewelry on calls. Too identifiable.

The line clicked. "Anon, we have a problem," Kemi said. "KolaTech just undercut us by 2%. If we don't respond now, we lose the bid."

My mind switched. Zara disappeared. Anon took over.

"Drop our price by 2.5%. Eat the margin," I ordered. "But add clause 7B - exclusive data rights. They can't match that. Their tech is outdated."

"Anon, that's—"

"Do it. Now."

I could hear the Minister murmuring approval on the other end. We'd won. Again.

Then the door handle jiggled.

My heart stopped.

"Zara?" Khalil's voice. Cold. Dangerous. "Why is a janitor's closet locked from the inside?"

Panic. I muted my phone. "Khalil! I'm—I'm sick. Give me a minute."

"Open the door. Now."

"I said I'm—"

The door splintered.

Khalil stood there, face like thunder, splinters of wood on his ₦3 million Tom Ford suit. His eyes dropped to the phone in my hand.

To my laptop bag I'd hidden under the sink.

To the NairaFlow letterhead visible on a printed contract sticking out.

His face went blank. Blank was worse than angry with Khalil Adeyemi.

"Who," he said softly, "were you talking to, Mrs. Adeyemi?"

My phone unmuted itself. Kemi's voice filled the closet: "Anon, the Minister wants to congratulate you. This is the biggest tech contract in Nigerian history. Fifty billion naira, secured by—"

I slapped the phone off.

Silence.

Khalil stepped inside. Closed the door behind him. The click of the lock was a gunshot.

"Anon," he repeated. The name tasted like blood in his mouth. "The faceless CEO of NairaFlow. The tech genius my acquisition team has been hunting for six months."

He advanced. I backed up until the sink hit my spine.

"My wife," he said, each word a blade, "is a ten-million-naira orphan I bought to inherit my grandfather's company."

His hand caged me against the sink. He wasn't touching me. But I couldn't breathe.

"So tell me, Zara." His eyes were black. "Who the hell did I marry?"

The gala music thumped through the walls. Dami Kolawole was still out there. My board was still on the line.

And the Shark had just caught me.

Lying.

To his face.

For the second time.