Chapter 6

The soft hum of music filled the hospital room as I leaned back against the pillows, scrolling through my phone. The playful yet powerful beats of NMIXX’s “DICE” played through my speaker, and I bobbed my head along, momentarily forgetting I was still stuck in this sterile white room.

Ireti, on the other hand, was not amused.

“Yemisi, for God’s sake, turn that thing off.” She shot me a glare from where she sat, arms crossed like an angry mother.

I smirked. “What? It’s a good song.”

Ireti groaned, rubbing her temples. “You and these noisy K-pop groups. Can’t you at least play something that won’t make me feel like I’m in an arcade?”

I gasped dramatically. “Did you just insult NMIXX?”

“Yes,” she deadpanned.

“You have no taste.”

“Whatever.”

I chuckled at her suffering, just as the door opened and Kayode stepped in, the doctor following behind. My twin brother gave me an unimpressed look before turning to the doctor. “See? I told you she’s well enough to argue about K-pop. Just sign the discharge papers already.”

The doctor chuckled. “Well, after checking her test results, I can confidently say she’s good to go.”

“Yes!” I fist-pumped the air, but the celebration was short-lived.

“You’re seriously happy about this?” Ireti asked, exasperated. “You almost died, Yemisi.”

Kayode nodded. “For real. Why don’t you take your health more seriously? And don’t even get me started on this detective nonsense.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not nonsense. I like what I do.”

Ireti scoffed. “You like nearly getting yourself killed?”

“Not the nearly dying part, obviously.”

Kayode sighed. “Look, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You could always come back to Lagos and—”

Before he could finish, my phone rang. Seeing Mum on the screen, I inwardly groaned but picked up. “Hello?”

“Oh, my baby! Are you okay?” Mum’s voice was full of worry, and I could already picture her pacing in the living room, probably wringing her hands.

“I’m fine, Mum.”

“Kayode told me everything. Yemisi, this is serious. You were in an accident! Why won’t you just come back to Lagos where you’ll be safe?”

I sighed. “Mum, I’m fine. Really.”

“Yemisi—”

“Mum, I have work here.”

A pause. Then, a quiet sigh. “You always do.”

Guilt pricked my chest, but before I could say anything, she continued. “At least promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.”

After she hung up, I turned to Kayode. “So… when are you heading back?”

He folded his arms. “Not yet. There’s a CEO conference in two weeks, and since I have some business there, I’m staying in Abuja till then.”

“Of course,” I muttered.

I barely had time to process that before my phone buzzed with a message from Ibukun.

Ibukun: We need to talk. Now. Meet me.  Don't ghost me, Bailey.

I scoffed. Rude.

Then another message came in—from Emeka.

Emeka: Hey, detective. You up for an accident recovery dinner? My treat. I have plans for Jollof Rice and Yogurt.

My stomach rumbled as if on cue.

Yemisi: Tempting. But what’s the catch?

Emeka: No catch. Just good food and me. Obviously a win-win.

Yemisi: Say no more as long as you are paying.

Emeka: Wouldn’t have it any other way.

I smirked. If I had to deal with Ibukun’s attitude, I at least deserved a nice dinner first.

---

A few hours later, I met Emeka at a cozy restaurant downtown. The warm lighting, the quiet chatter—it was a refreshing change from the chaos of my life.

"You look alive," Emeka teased as I sat down.

"That’s because I have food to look forward to," I said, picking up the menu.

He grinned. "Glad to see your priorities are in order."

We placed our orders, and for the first time in days, I let myself relax. Emeka was easy company—charming, funny, and completely unserious in the best way.

Halfway through the meal, I felt a presence behind me. The air shifted.

Then a familiar hand grabbed my wrist.

"What the hell, Yemisi?"

I turned to see Ibukun standing there, glaring at me like I had personally ruined his day.

"Excuse me?" I said, yanking my hand back.

"You’ve been ignoring me," he said, jaw tight. "And now you’re here, having dinner?"

Emeka leaned back, raising a brow. "She is allowed to eat, you know."

Ibukun shot him a sharp look before turning back to me. "We’re talking. Now."

And before I could protest, he grabbed my hand again and pulled me up.

"Ibukun—"

"Let him have his tantrum," Emeka called lazily. "Just remember who paid for dinner, Yemisi."

I barely had time to glare at him before Ibukun dragged me outside.

Ibukun pulled me out of the restaurant with an iron grip, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought he might crack a tooth.

"Are you out of your mind?" I snapped once we were outside.

I yanked my wrist free, glaring at him.

"You get discharged, ignore my message, and then I find you flirting over dinner like you have nothing better to do?"

I crossed my arms. "First of all, you’re not my keeper. Second, I was recovering from almost dying, remember?"

Ibukun scoffed. "And clearly, you’re doing great if you have time for dates."

"It wasn’t a date," I said, rolling my eyes. "Not that it’s any of your business."

"It's not," he snapped. "But right now, I need you to listen."

Something in his tone made me pause. He wasn’t just mad. He was… on edge.

"Fine," I said, watching him carefully. "Talk."

Ibukun ran a hand through his hair. "The board is looking for a reason to push me out of the company."

I frowned. "Push you out? But you inherited everything—"

"Exactly." He exhaled sharply. "And that makes me the perfect suspect. The CEO dies, and suddenly his adopted son gets the whole empire? You don’t think that looks suspicious?"

I hesitated. It did look bad.

Ibukun continued, voice tight. "I need stability. I need them to trust me. And they won’t if they think I’m some cold, ambitious outsider who killed his own father." He glanced at the restaurant doors. "But if I have someone at my side… someone respected, who actually has a reputation for seeking justice—"

I took a step back. "No."

"You want answers about the murder, don’t you?" His gaze pinned me. "I can give you access to places you’d never reach otherwise. You’ll see things firsthand. But only if you help me fix my image."

I clenched my jaw. "You think dating me will make you look innocent?"

Ibukun smirked, but there was no humor in it. "I think dating you will make them see me as human. Someone who isn’t just power-hungry."

I stared at him, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

This was insane. Unbelievable.

I folded my arms. "And what exactly do I get out of this?"

Ibukun tilted his head slightly, as if he’d been expecting the question. "Protection."

I let out a dry laugh. "From what? A few rumors?"

His expression didn’t change. "From whoever tried to kill you."

That shut me up.

Ibukun took a step closer. "You think you’re untouchable because you’re smart? Because you’re careful?" He leaned in, lowering his voice. "They ran you off the road, Yemisi. And you still think you don’t need me?"

I swallowed hard but held my ground. "I don’t need you to solve this case."

"Maybe not," he admitted. "But do you really think you're safe running around asking the wrong questions? Because news flash—whoever did this to you knows you’re still alive."

A chill ran down my spine, but I kept my expression blank. "So what? You’re going to hold my hand in public, and suddenly no one will want me dead?"

Ibukun smirked. "More like I make it clear that hurting you means dealing with me."

I scoffed. "And what makes you so scary?"

He didn’t answer immediately, just held my gaze, his smirk fading into something unreadable.

Then it hit me.

My stomach twisted. "Ibukun," I said carefully. "Were you at the accident scene?"

He didn’t move, didn’t blink.

That silence told me everything.

I took a step back, heart hammering. "You—"

Ibukun grabbed my wrist, just firm enough to stop me from leaving. His voice was calm, steady. "Think about it, Yemisi." His grip tightened slightly. "If I was there… why do you think I didn't let them finish the job?"

I exhaled sharply, yanking my hand free. My mind was racing, but I didn’t get the chance to process it.

Because just then, Emeka walked out of the restaurant, stopping dead when he saw us.

Ibukun turned his head lazily, eyes locking onto him. Then, with deliberate ease, he draped an arm over my shoulder and smirked.

"Looks like I have to be more obvious," he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

And that was the moment I realized—whether I wanted to or not, I had just been claimed.