The audit team wasted no time.
Within seventy-two hours, Okonkwo Industries' files were being hauled from the digital archives, security logs decrypted, and accounting trails re-verified. What began as a quiet storm quickly turned into a hurricane of emails, phone calls, and long-forgotten signatures.
Zaria wasn't just watching from the sidelines.
Every morning, she met with the auditors personally, reviewing updates, asking sharp questions. Her background in finance came alive in full force—this was her battlefield now.
On the fourth day, she received a file marked CONFIDENTIAL. A plain brown envelope, hand-delivered by a courier who didn't speak, only bowed.
Inside were copies of three off-book transactions.
Huge ones.
₦2.3 billion transferred from the company's humanitarian branch—meant for a women's education project in the North—redirected to a shell company registered in Dubai.
Zaria's stomach dropped.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Darius.
"We have a real problem," she said as soon as he answered. "And it's worse than I thought."
---
They met that evening in a secure office on the 20th floor of the Okonkwo tower.
Darius scanned the files and frowned. "I recognise this company. Rimek Holdings. It was flagged before, but Ayo said it was a temporary supplier for one of our international builds."
Zaria shook her head. "There's no supplier. This account is linked to someone with initials A.A.O."
Darius exhaled sharply.
"Ayo Ayotunde Okonkwo."
Zaria nodded slowly. "He's been stealing from the company. Under the name of charity."
Darius slammed the folder shut. "We can't go public yet. We need more proof. Something that ties him directly to the accounts."
Zaria agreed.
But someone else had already noticed she was getting close.
---
That night, while returning from a late dinner meeting, Zaria's car slowed at a quiet traffic stop in Lekki Phase 1. The streets were dim, the air thick with tension.
Suddenly, a black SUV pulled out from nowhere and blocked the road.
Her driver cursed. "Madam, hold tight—"
The back window of the SUV rolled down slightly.
A gloved hand tossed something out.
A white envelope.
The SUV reversed and disappeared into the night without a sound.
Shaken, Zaria ordered the driver to keep going. Back at the penthouse, she tore open the envelope with trembling fingers.
Inside was a single photograph.
A blurry picture of her—standing in the boardroom that morning.
And another photo.
This time of her at the clinic, during her last prenatal scan.
There was no note.
Just one word scribbled in red ink on the back:
"STOP."
Zaria sank into the chair, her heart thudding wildly. Her hands went instinctively to her belly.
They were threatening her.
Not just her career.
But her child.
---
She called Darius immediately.
He arrived within twenty minutes, visibly shaken when he saw the photos.
"They know we're getting close," she said. "They're watching me. Maybe watching both of us."
His jaw clenched. "I'm calling in private security. No arguments."
"I'm not backing down, Darius."
"I know," he replied, eyes dark. "That's why I'm staying right beside you."
Zaria looked out over the dark city skyline. Her voice was low but steady.
"They think I'm just a woman carrying a baby. But they've forgotten… I'm carrying a revolution."