Phase Two

Damilola did not sleep that night. Every sound outside the house made him get up and check the windows. Around midnight, he quietly walked into the sitting room and found Fiyin awake, holding a cup of tea. She looked at him and managed a tired smile. “You couldn’t sleep too?” He shook his head. “I keep thinking about that phone call.” Fiyin placed the cup down. “Whoever called wants one thing.” “What?” “To make you afraid.” Damilola sighed. “It’s working.” Fiyin reached across the table and held his hand for the first time since she left the house. “Then don’t let it.” That single touch reminded him of everything he had almost lost. He squeezed her hand gently. “I’m sorry it took me this long to become the husband you deserved.” Fiyin looked into his eyes. “Don’t promise me anything tonight.” “Why?” “Because apologies are easy.” “Change is difficult.” He nodded. “Then let me prove it.”

The following morning, Damilola drove straight to the police headquarters with the fake DNA report and details of the threatening call. The officer on duty listened carefully before shaking his head. “We’ll open a file, but this is going to be difficult.” “Why?” “The phone number used to call you was registered with fake identification.” “Can it be traced?” “It was a disposable internet number.” Damilola frowned. “And the fake courier?” “Without CCTV footage or a vehicle registration, there’s very little to work with.” As he stood to leave, the officer stopped him. “One piece of advice.” “Yes?” “People don’t spend money creating fake DNA reports unless they’re protecting something much bigger.”

Meanwhile, Chief Adebisi returned to his office and unlocked an old steel cabinet that had not been opened in years. Inside were files from businesses he had shared with Damilola’s father. As he searched through the folders, one name caught his attention. Lawal Medical Diagnostics Contract. His heart skipped. He quickly opened it. Among the invoices was a payment voucher dated just two weeks before Damilola’s father’s death. The payment had not come from the hospital. It had come from a private company. The company name made him freeze. Crestline Holdings Limited. He whispered to himself, “No… it can’t be.”

Back at the house, Mama Bose was preparing lunch when someone knocked gently on the gate. She opened it to find an elderly woman wearing a simple Ankara wrapper. The woman smiled warmly. “Bose.” Mama Bose’s eyes widened. “Aunty Ronke?” They had not seen each other in over twenty years. The older woman walked in slowly. “I heard everything that’s been happening.” Mama Bose looked worried. “Who told you?” “People talk.” They sat down together. After a few moments, Aunty Ronke asked quietly, “Have you finally told Damilola about the business?” Mama Bose’s face changed instantly. “Keep your voice down.” Damilola, who had just returned from the police station, stopped outside the sitting room when he heard those words. He remained still without making a sound. Aunty Ronke continued. “You can’t hide it forever.” Mama Bose replied in a trembling voice, “I wasn’t hiding it for myself.” “Then for who?” “For my husband.” Damilola’s heart began pounding. Business? What business?

Chief Adebisi arrived at the house less than an hour later, carrying the old contract file. The moment he saw Aunty Ronke, he sighed deeply. “You know too.” She nodded. “I always knew.” Damilola walked into the room before anyone could say another word. “Somebody is going to explain what is happening.” Nobody answered immediately. He placed both hands on the table. “No more letters. No more half-truths. What business are you talking about?” Chief Adebisi slowly opened the file. “Before your father died, he discovered financial fraud inside Crestline Holdings. Millions of naira had been diverted through fake medical contracts.” Damilola frowned. “Medical contracts?” “Yes.” Chief Adebisi pointed at one of the invoices. “The same hospital where your blood samples were mixed up received payments from that company.” Fiyin looked shocked. “Are you saying the hospital and the company were connected?” Chief Adebisi nodded. “More connected than we ever realized.”

Just then, Damilola’s phone vibrated. A new message had arrived from an unknown number. There was no greeting. No explanation. Only a photograph. It showed his late father standing beside three men outside an office building. Two of the faces were familiar. One was Chief Adebisi. The second was Dr. Ibrahim Lawal. The third man had a thick beard and dark sunglasses. Someone had circled his face in red ink. Beneath the photograph was a single sentence.

He is still alive.

To be continued…

Engagement Question: Who do you think the mysterious third man is, and why would someone wait nearly thirty years to warn Damilola about him?