The morning after her visit to the archives was eerily quiet. Kelechi couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. Something bigger.
It wasn't just the man she'd confronted in the records room. It was the way the building seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for the ripple of her actions to reach the surface.
But she didn't back down. Not now.
⸻
By noon, she'd already received her first warning.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, the name flashing in stark, cold letters.
Oba Eze.
Her heart skipped a beat.
⸻
It was a simple message:
"I hear you've been poking around. It would be a shame if you got hurt before you finish what you started. You should stop while you're ahead."
Her hands tightened around the phone.
She knew what this meant. Oba had people watching her, listening to her. This was no longer just about revenge for Seyi. This was a game of survival.
Kelechi's lips curled into a thin smile.
He thought she was scared. He thought the message would make her cower.
Instead, it made her want to act faster. To show him she wasn't the one who needed warning.
⸻
But it wasn't just the message that unsettled her.
It was the look she saw in the eyes of the workers when she walked through the halls. The furtive glances. The sudden silences when she entered a room.
They knew.
They'd found out. Somehow, the information was spreading. And the quiet whispers of fear had shifted toward suspicion.
But who could she trust?
She couldn't ask anyone. Not anymore. There were too many potential spies. Too many threats waiting for a chance to turn on her.
⸻
And then, it happened.
Late that night, when Kelechi returned to her room, the door was ajar. Not enough for anyone to see, but just enough for her to notice.
Her heart pounded as she stepped inside, the hairs on her neck rising.
Everything was where it should have been.
But there was a new chill in the air. Like someone had been there. Watching her.
⸻
A soft shuffle came from the corner of the room.
Kelechi spun around.
There, standing in the shadow by the window, was the suit.
No words at first. Just his eyes, cold and unreadable, watching her every move. She tensed, ready for another confrontation.
"You shouldn't have gone to the records," he said, his voice quiet, dangerous.
Kelechi didn't move. "You're not the only one who has eyes, you know. I'm not afraid of you anymore."
The suit took a step closer. "You don't understand what you're doing. Oba's not just a name. He's not just some supplier. He's untouchable. If you keep this up, you won't just ruin your life—you'll ruin everything."
Kelechi stood her ground. "It's already ruined. I'm just cleaning up the mess."
The suit's face darkened. "You're going to make enemies. People who don't care what happens to you. You'll find yourself in a place with no way out."
"You think I haven't been there already?"
Kelechi shot back. "Seyi's in that hospital bed because of people like you. People who turn a blind eye to things they shouldn't. I'm not backing down."
For a moment, there was silence. Then the suit gave a sharp, humorless laugh.
"You really are something else."
With that, he turned to leave, but Kelechi wasn't done. She reached for the drawer where she'd stashed the file and slid it toward him.
"Tell Oba Eze this: I'm not done. Not until I burn everything he's built to the ground."
The suit didn't respond. He didn't even glance back. He simply left, the door clicking shut behind him.
Kelechi exhaled, her body tense with adrenaline. But as the seconds ticked by, she realized something—something she hadn't allowed herself to admit before:
She wasn't just fighting to save Seyi anymore.
She was fighting for her own survival.