Yemisi

"Why are the both of you even here?" Mrs. Johnson’s voice sliced through the room like a blade, her tone dripping with venom.

Clearly, she needed someone to unleash her anger on, and we were the easiest targets. Not that this was surprising—Mrs. Johnson had made her disdain for me and Ireti glaringly obvious from the moment we entered her orbit.

"I'm investigating your husband's murder," I said evenly, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. "And Ireti is your husband's lawyer."

Her expression darkened further, logic clearly having no place in her rage.

Her fury wasn’t hard to decode. She had just been dealt the ultimate betrayal: her late husband, the man she had built a life with, had left everything to his adopted son. And not just any adopted son—a son from a tribe she loathed.

"It's bad enough that one of these... things is my husband's lawyer," she spat, glaring at Ireti with disdain.

Ireti, as always, stood tall, her calmness only amplifying Mrs. Johnson’s bitterness.

"I can’t have the other one investigating his death, especially considering her… relationship with you people," she added, her manicured finger stabbing the air toward me.

"Especially you," she finished, turning her glare to Ibukun.

I rolled my eyes. This was a waste of time.

"Their names are Ireti and Yemisi, Mother," Ada interrupted, her voice sharp.

"And Yemisi is Dad’s private detective," Emeka chimed in, his frustration evident. "If anyone should investigate, it’s her."

"Exactly," Ibukun added, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk that made my skin crawl. "Yemisi’s already lost her shot at being a police detective. Surely, Mother, you wouldn’t want to ruin her only job, would you?"

His tone was mocking, and my irritation flared. He was enjoying this far too much.

"I’m not your mother!" Mrs. Johnson snapped, loud enough to draw gasps from the onlookers.

Her outburst was uncharacteristic—or at least it was for those who didn’t know the truth. She had always presented herself as a caring stepmother to Ibukun. This was a glimpse of her true colors.

Ibukun, unfazed, smiled even wider. "Oh, nothing’s wrong," he said, his voice syrupy. "Mum is just upset. She didn’t mean it, right, Mother?"

Mrs. Johnson, forced to save face, quickly backtracked. "Of course, darling," she said, her smile tight and forced. "I’m sorry."

I wasn’t fooled. I knew their relationship was toxic. Ibukun and Mrs. Johnson hated each other, but today, he was playing the dutiful son. Suspiciously so.

Then, there was that call. The distorted voice from that day echoed in my mind: “The real one is standing right next to you.”

I clenched my fists, trying to push the memory aside.

Mrs. Johnson’s voice interrupted my thoughts. "I still don’t want her involved," she said coldly.

I raised an eyebrow, meeting her glare head-on. "With all due respect, Mrs. Johnson, this isn’t your decision to make. Your late husband personally hired me. Unless you can prove I’m unfit, I’m not going anywhere."

Ada stepped in before Mrs. Johnson could argue. "Enough, Mum," she said firmly. "Yemisi and Ireti are here to do their jobs. Let them."

Mrs. Johnson shot her daughter a withering look but didn’t reply. Instead, she turned and stormed out, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to suffocate.

Ibukun broke it with a low chuckle. "Well, that was fun."

I glared at him. "What exactly do you find so amusing?"

"You, of course. Always so serious, so… righteous," he said with a smirk.

I ignored him, turning to Emeka and Ada. "Again, my sincere condolences. I’m sorry for your loss," I said softly.

Then, turning to Ibukun, I shot him a disgusted look. "Let’s go, Ireti," I said, grabbing her bag and stalking out of the office.

---

Outside, Ireti gave me an apologetic look.

"It’s not your fault that Ibukun’s a jerk," I said, trying to reassure her.

She smiled faintly.

I glanced at my watch—it was just past 2 p.m. "Why don’t you head home?" I suggested. "I have some investigating to do."

"Okay, but don’t forget—you’re making dinner," she teased before driving off.

I waited for my cab, my thoughts heavy. Once it arrived, I headed to the police station.
---

At the station, I requested to see Detective Adigun, head of the murder investigation unit.

Adigun and I had history. Bad history. He was one of the reasons I hadn’t made it into the police force.

"Hello, can I have a word?" I asked politely.

Adigun leaned back in his chair, his smirk predatory. "Well, if it isn’t the dress-up detective," he sneered.

I forced a smile. "Adigun, I just need to know if you caught the man who fled the day the CEO was murdered."

"Even if I did, why would I tell you?" he said smugly.

I bit back my frustration. "I made the report, Adigun. I’m investigating the murder. I have a right to know."

"Investigating?" he asked, his smirk widening.

I stayed silent.

"Mrs. Johnson called me, you know," he said, his voice taunting. "She wants me to take over the case."

That sly snake.

"You’re not allowed on this case unless the family authorizes it," he added, leaning forward. "Just give up."

I stormed out of his office, my frustration boiling over. This case was my chance to prove myself, and it felt like everything was slipping through my fingers.

---

I stopped by the market to get groceries. At the crosswalk, the light turned green, and I stepped into the road.

I didn’t see the truck until it was too late.

The impact sent me sprawling. The pain was blinding, but I refused to close my eyes.

"Yemisi! Yemisi!" a voice yelled, raw with panic.

Through the haze, I saw him—it was Ibukun.

Don’t close your eyes. I kept repeating the thought like a mantra.

Screams and sirens filled the air, but something else made my blood run cold. A distorted voice crackled from a phone nearby.

The voice. That voice.

"Liked the surprise, Ibukun? You’ll never be able to save her," the voice taunted, followed by a chilling laugh.

Recognition hit me like another blow. It was the same voice that had called me that night—the one who warned me about Ibukun.