The boardroom smelled of leather, power, and desperation.
Zaria entered the room with her head high, dressed in deep blue—the colour of calm oceans and steady storms. Her baby bump was now undeniable, but so was her presence. She no longer walked like a woman unsure of her place. She walked like an Okonkwo.
Darius followed closely behind, but today, he wasn't her shield. He was her witness.
The board members were already seated, some avoiding her eyes, others glancing nervously at each other. Ayo sat at the far end, looking cool and collected in a custom-tailored black suit. But behind his eyes, something was coiling. Something wild.
Chairman Nwodo cleared his throat.
"We're gathered to address the public fallout of Miss Bello-Okonkwo's accusations—"
"Not accusations," Zaria cut in. "Evidence."
The chairman sighed. "Fine. The evidence you've provided. As of this morning, the Corporate Crime Commission has announced an official inquiry. Our shares have dropped thirteen percent in two days. We need a resolution."
Ayo leaned forward. "Then let's call a vote. Remove her from the board and begin damage control."
Gasps echoed across the room.
Zaria stood calmly. "You can't vote me out. I own ten percent of this company. My stake is protected by law."
"But your shares were a gift," Ayo said sharply. "Given under emotional pretence. That can be challenged."
Zaria walked to the table, opened her laptop, and connected it to the projector.
"You want to challenge my legitimacy?" she asked. "Then let me show you what's illegitimate."
She brought up the voice recording of Samuel Okonkwo—the one where he named Ayo, the embezzled funds, and the threat if she ever returned.
Gasps turned into silence.
Then whispers.
Then outrage.
"You had this the whole time?" one board member demanded.
Zaria nodded. "And I gave it to the Commission yesterday. So no, you can't sweep this under any rug."
Ayo stood suddenly, fury rising.
"She's trying to burn this company down!"
"No," she said, stepping closer to him. "I'm trying to clean it. You lit the match when you started stealing in your father's name."
Suddenly, another voice spoke—calm, cold, and unexpected.
Darius.
"I have a statement," he said, standing slowly. "As majority shareholder, I'm calling for Ayo's suspension, effective immediately. Pending the conclusion of the investigation."
Eyes widened. Even Zaria froze.
"You're siding with her?" Ayo spat. "After everything?"
Darius looked him dead in the eye. "She's not the threat to this company. You are."
Ayo laughed bitterly. "You think this ends here? You think I won't rise again?"
But it was Zaria who gave the final word.
"You won't rise, Ayo. Because for the first time in your life, the truth has outrun you."
After the vote, the board passed the motion.
Ayo was suspended. Security escorted him from the premises—fuming, teeth clenched, shouting promises of revenge.
Zaria didn't smile. She didn't celebrate.
She just stood still, one hand on her lower back, the other pressed gently against her stomach.
Darius turned to her. "You didn't need me in there."
She looked up at him with a soft smile.
"No. But I'm glad you came."
That evening, she returned home to a dozen messages. Calls from media houses. International firms offering her partnerships. Investment banks calling her a rising star.
But Zaria wasn't interested in noise.
She stood alone on the penthouse balcony, watching the stars flicker above Lagos.
And when the wind brushed her hair, she whispered to the night sky, "Mama, I did it."