The Woman in the Blue Car

Tomiwa didn’t wait to hear another word.

She quietly stepped away from the office door before anyone inside could notice her.

Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure the whole house could hear it.

A woman.

Inside his office.

At nine o’clock at night.

Less than twenty-four hours after their wedding.

She climbed the stairs carefully, locked her bedroom door and sat on the floor.

She wanted to cry.

Instead, she became angry.

“No,” she whispered to herself. “I’m done crying.”

If Damola wanted to keep secrets, she would start finding them.

…

The next morning, Damola behaved as though nothing had happened.

He sat at the dining table reading business news on his tablet while sipping coffee.

“Good morning.”

Tomiwa ignored him.

He looked up briefly.

“I’ve asked the driver to take you anywhere you need today.”

“I don’t need your driver.”

“As you wish.”

She folded her arms.

“Who was in your office last night?”

He calmly returned his attention to the tablet.

“A colleague.”

“A colleague?”

“Yes.”

“Female?”

“Yes.”

She laughed.

“You brought another woman into our house on our first night as husband and wife?”

“It wasn’t what you’re thinking.”

“Then explain.”

“I can’t.”

She pushed her chair back.

“There it is again.”

“I can’t.”

“You’ve made those three words your favorite sentence.”

Without another word, she walked away.

…

By afternoon, she had made up her mind.

She wasn’t going to sit in that mansion waiting for answers.

She called a taxi instead of using Damola’s driver.

The first place she went was Kemi’s apartment.

The moment Kemi opened the door, she frowned.

“Tomi?”

“You look terrible.”

Tomiwa forced a smile.

“I just needed to see someone.”

Kemi pulled her inside.

“What happened?”

Tomiwa almost told her everything.

Almost.

But something stopped her.

The anonymous message.

The warning.

The twenty-six-year-old family secret.

What if telling someone made things worse?

She changed the subject.

“I just miss you.”

Kemi wasn’t convinced.

“You’ve been married for one day and you’re already escaping your husband.”

Tomiwa laughed awkwardly.

“Maybe I’m still adjusting.”

Kemi hugged her.

“If anything is wrong, don’t carry it alone.”

Those words stayed with Tomiwa long after she left.

…

When she returned home around five in the evening, Damola wasn’t there.

The housekeeper smiled.

“Madam, sir said he may return late.”

“Did he say where he went?”

“No, madam.”

Perfect.

She finally had time to explore the house.

She started with the library.

Nothing unusual.

The gym.

Spotless.

The guest rooms.

Empty.

Finally, she stood outside the office.

The forbidden room.

She tried the handle.

Locked.

She remembered the keycard Damola had given her.

Slowly, she removed it from her handbag.

“This doesn’t make sense,” she whispered.

If he didn’t want her entering the office, why give her the keycard?

Unless…

He expected her to try.

She hesitated.

Then slid the card through the reader.

A red light flashed.

Access denied.

She frowned.

She tried again.

Red.

The keycard was fake.

“So you planned this too.”

Someone had deliberately given her a useless card.

Before she could think further, she heard a car pull into the compound.

She quickly stepped away from the office.

Through the sitting room window, she watched Damola get out of a black SUV.

Another car stopped behind him.

A blue Toyota Corolla.

The driver remained inside.

A woman stepped out.

She wore a simple navy blue dress and dark sunglasses.

Even from a distance, Tomiwa recognized her.

The same woman whose voice she had heard in the office.

She looked to be in her early thirties.

Elegant.

Confident.

Too comfortable.

She didn’t even wait for Damola.

She walked straight into the house like someone who had done it many times before.

Tomiwa remained hidden behind the curtain.

The woman smiled at Damola.

“You left your file.”

“Thank you.”

She handed him a brown folder.

Their fingers touched briefly.

Nothing romantic.

But familiarity lived between them.

The woman laughed at something Damola said.

Not the fake laugh people used at parties.

A genuine one.

Tomiwa felt something twist inside her chest.

She waited.

Would he introduce the woman?

Would he call her inside?

Instead, Damola looked toward the house.

Almost as though he sensed someone watching.

Tomiwa quickly stepped back.

When she looked again, the woman was already returning to her blue Corolla.

She drove away.

…

That night, Tomiwa couldn’t stop thinking about the blue car.

She had only one clue.

The plate number.

She had memorized it without realizing.

She wrote it down in her notebook.

If Damola refused to answer questions, maybe someone else would.

…

The following morning, Damola left unusually early.

Within minutes, Tomiwa left too.

She took another taxi.

“Madam, where to?” the driver asked.

She hesitated.

Then remembered someone.

Her cousin, Chinedu.

A journalist.

If anyone could help trace a vehicle registration, it was him.

…

Chinedu welcomed her into his office with a smile.

“The newest bride in Lagos.”

She managed a weak laugh.

“I need a favor.”

“For you? Anything.”

She handed him the plate number.

“I need to know who owns this car.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Trouble already?”

“It’s important.”

He studied her face.

“I’ll see what I can find.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“You have my word.”

…

By evening, Chinedu called.

“I found something.”

Tomiwa’s hands became cold.

“Whose car is it?”

There was silence on the line.

Then he spoke.

“The car isn’t registered to a woman.”

“What?”

“It’s registered to a company.”

“What company?”

Another pause.

“Williams Legacy Holdings.”

Her stomach dropped.

Damola’s company.

The woman wasn’t secretly visiting him.

She was driving one of his company’s vehicles.

But before relief could settle in, Chinedu said something else.

“There’s another interesting thing.”

“What?”

“The vehicle has been assigned to only one employee for the last four years.”

“Who?”

Chinedu read directly from his screen.

“Miss Nnenna Okafor.”

Tomiwa had never heard the name before.

Then why did the woman look so comfortable inside her husband’s house?

And why had Damola hidden her existence from the very beginning?

If you were Tomiwa, would you confront Nnenna directly or keep investigating Damola first?

To be continued…