---
The investigation began immediately.
By midday, the restaurant's HR head, Emeka — Kelvin's right-hand man and the Owerri branch supervisor — arrived at the Lagos branch, escorted by two plainclothes security officers from head office. Kelvin's orders had been clear: full audit, no exceptions.
The kitchen staff were gathered into the conference room, faces tight with anxiety, some defiant, others terrified. The air felt heavier than it had that morning, like a storm waiting to break.
Chioma stood at the side of the room beside Lanre, her arms folded, eyes sharp, silently watching everything unfold. Kelvin sat at the head of the table, his presence alone enough to make most of the staff avoid his gaze.
Emeka cleared his throat and began distributing documents.
"These are your employment records, salary slips, and transaction reports from the past six months," he announced coldly. "You'll review and confirm the amounts stated on your payslips against what you've been receiving."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
One by one, names were called. Each staff member approached, collected their file, and sat back down. Some flipped through quickly, faces going pale. Others frowned, confused.
Chioma watched Osaze's hands tremble as he read through his documents. His brows drew together. Slowly, he raised a hand.
"Excuse me, sir," he said, his voice cracking slightly.
Emeka looked up. "Yes?"
"This says I earn 120,000 naira a month. But… but I've been getting 84,000."
A hush fell over the room. All heads turned toward him.
Kelvin's eyes narrowed. "You're sure about that?"
Osaze nodded quickly. "I… I've never seen 120k, sir. Not once."
Emeka stiffened. "Are you telling me you and others here have been receiving less than what your employment contracts state?"
One by one, hesitant hands rose.
Lanre's mouth twisted in disgust. Chioma felt the slow boil of anger beneath her skin.
Emeka's voice grew sharper. "Who processes your payments here?"
A name fell from multiple lips at once: "Mr. Henry."
Kelvin's face turned to stone.
He reached for his phone, dialing a number. "Get Henry to my office. Now."
Ten minutes later, Mr. Henry shuffled in, his face a perfect mask of forced confusion.
"Sir," he greeted with a stiff bow.
"Sit," Kelvin said quietly. Too quietly.
Henry sat.
Emeka didn't waste time. He laid the documents in front of him. "Explain this," he ordered. "Staff contracts versus what they've been receiving for the past six months."
Henry cleared his throat. "Uh, sir… there was a temporary adjustment due to—"
"Due to what?" Kelvin cut in, voice soft, deadly.
Henry swallowed. "The… um… company's financial challenges. I thought you were aware, sir."
Kelvin's gaze was ice. "You thought I was aware that staff salaries were cut without approval? That a 30% deduction was being made without documentation? Or HR notification? Or head office clearance?"
Henry faltered, sweat beading on his forehead. "Sir, I… I did it to manage the branch's overheads. It wasn't for personal gain. I was trying to—"
"Enough."
Kelvin's chair scraped back as he rose. The room seemed to shrink with the force of his fury.
He took a step forward, standing right before Henry. "You know the thing about being me, Henry? I don't bluff. I don't guess. I confirm."
He gestured to one of the security officers. The man placed a printed sheet on the table — a bank statement.
Chioma craned her neck slightly to see it.
Multiple transfers from the restaurant's payroll account to a personal account under Henry's name. The amounts matched exactly the missing 30% deductions from every staff salary.
Kelvin's lips curved into a cold smile. "Managed overheads, right?"
Henry's face crumpled. He began to stammer. "Sir… please… I… it was a mistake. I was… desperate."
Kelvin's voice was ice. "And you sabotaged my kitchen too? Rotten supplies? Theft? Selling company stock out the back? Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"
Henry fell to his knees. "Sir, please… I have a family—"
"So do the people you've been robbing for months," Kelvin snarled.
He turned to the security officers. "Take him to the police liaison downstairs. He's done here."
Henry was dragged from the room, his pleas fading down the hallway.
The staff sat in stunned silence.
Kelvin let the quiet hang a moment before he spoke again, his voice steady but firm. "The deductions stop today. Salaries will be restored and back payments processed before week's end. Anyone else involved better confess now, because I promise — if I find out another name later, you'll follow him to prison."
No one spoke.
Kelvin turned to Chioma then. There was something fierce in his gaze, a mix of gratitude and pride.
"Good work," he said quietly. "You didn't just save this branch. You saved these people's livelihoods."
Chioma swallowed hard, a strange mix of pride and emotion tightening her chest.
She met his gaze, steady. "They deserved better."
Kelvin gave a tight nod. "And now they'll get it."
Scene Two:
Without another word, Kelvin's chair scraped again as he stood to full height.
"Chioma, follow me," he ordered, his voice calm, yet carrying the weight of authority that left no room for questions.
Chioma's heart jumped in her chest, but she schooled her face into composure, moving from her spot by Lanre's side.
As she followed Kelvin out of the room, the silence was deafening. The other staff from Owerri, those who had arrived days before with their silent gossip and sidelong glances, stood frozen. They watched Chioma's back as she passed them, some with envy flickering in their eyes, others with words trapped behind clenched teeth.
They had so much to say — about how she was favored, about how she was 'just a girl from Owerri', about how she was earning a position they thought should belong to one of them. But none of them dared speak. Not now. Not when Kelvin's fury still lingered in the air like a warning.
Chioma felt it. The heat of their envy pressing against her back like a physical thing. And for the first time, she didn't care.
Because whether they liked it or not — she had earned this.
And Kelvin had just made it clear to everyone in that room.
---
Chioma trailed Kelvin down the hallway, their footsteps muffled against the polished floors. The weight of dozens of eyes followed her. She didn't need to turn around to feel it — the Lagos staff curious, the Owerri team simmering with unspoken envy.
Nobody spoke. Not after what just happened. Not after Kelvin's voice had cracked like a whip in the conference room.
When they reached his office, Kelvin pushed the door open and gestured for her to enter first. Chioma stepped inside, her pulse steady now, the scent of crisp air-conditioning and leather chairs enveloping her.
Kelvin shut the door behind them with a soft click, the sound strangely final in the silence. He moved around his desk, dropping into the chair with a sigh that shaved a fraction off his usual sternness.
Chioma stood by the door, waiting.
"Sit," he said, motioning to the seat opposite him.
She obeyed, perching carefully on the edge.
For a moment, Kelvin said nothing. He simply watched her — not with the harsh scrutiny he reserved for subordinates, but something quieter, like a man measuring a storm after it passed.
"Good work today," he said at last. The words were simple, unembellished, but carried a weight of genuine acknowledgment. "You did exactly what this branch needed."
Chioma's throat tightened. "Thank you, sir."
Kelvin leaned back, the leather creaking softly beneath him. He tapped a finger against the desk. "I don't hand out empty praise, Chioma. You noticed what others overlooked and spoke up when it counted. That matters."
She swallowed, a small knot loosening in her chest at his words.
He nodded once, decisive. "I'll be handling the rest of this mess myself, but your report's already been forwarded to head office. HR is going to need a detailed statement from you later this evening."
"Of course, sir."
Then came a brief pause — one heavy enough to feel deliberate. Kelvin's gaze sharpened, but his voice remained even.
"Cancel whatever you had planned tonight."
Chioma blinked. "Sir?"
"There's a dinner meeting I need to attend. Clients. I want you there." He didn't phrase it like a request.
Won't you be coming back to the apartment today??
No,"he replied.
Are we clear?
She hesitated. "I… yes, sir."
"Good." He picked up a pen, scribbling something into his diary. "Wear something decent. Not kitchen whites. Seven-thirty. I'll send a car."
Chioma's heart gave a little jolt. Not because of the dinner — but because of what it meant. In a place like this, invitations like that weren't casual. It wasn't a date. It wasn't personal. But it was a move. A message.
Another beat passed.
"Dismissed," he said, not looking up.
Chioma rose to her feet. "Thank you, sir."
She walked out with her head high, this time meeting the curious and bitter stares head-on. And for the first time, not a single whisper followed her.
Kelvin had made sure of it.