The story continues in Chapter Two...

At 8:00 AM the following morning, the sun rose over the majestic headquarters of the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) in Ikoyi.

Inside a bright, glass-walled conference room on the fifth floor, three senior federal prosecutors and two customs investigators sat around a long table, flipping through the pages of the black ledger I had handed them.

Femi sat at the center of the table, his face bruised, his legal representation provided by my grandmother's senior corporate attorney, Chief Folarin.

"Mr. Femi," the lead investigator said, tapping his finger against a signed customs declaration form. "According to these records, over a period of eighteen months, you authorized thirty-four fraudulent shipments through the Apapa port using your bank's clearance seal. Is this your signature?"

Femi looked at me sitting in the gallery behind him. I gave him a single, stern nod.

Femi swallowed hard, hanging his head. "Yes, sir. That is my signature. I was offered a financial stake in Aura Logistics by Miss Funmi Williams."

"And were you aware that these crates contained smuggled industrial machinery and unregistered firearms?" the prosecutor asked sharply.

"No!" Femi insisted desperately. "I swear to God, I thought it was just luxury cars and high-end electronics to evade import tariffs! I didn't know about the weapons!"

Chief Folarin stepped forward, placing a hand on Femi's shoulder. "Gentlemen, my client is submitting a full confession, along with all digital communications, bank transfers, and physical ledgers provided by his wife, Mrs. Bolu. In exchange, we request full state protection and a plea bargain for reduced charges."

The lead prosecutor closed the file folder with a heavy thud. He stood up, walked over to the glass window looking out over the city, and turned to look at me.

"Mrs. Bolu," the prosecutor said, offering me a look of immense professional respect. "Your quick thinking, financial auditing, and recovery of this physical ledger have broken open a major international smuggling syndicate that my office has been tracking for three years. Miss Funmi Williams and her associates were arrested at Murtala Muhammed International Airport two hours ago while attempting to board a private jet to London."

Ada let out a quiet, triumphant gasp, squeezing my hand tight.

"What happens now?" I asked quietly.

"Miss Williams will face federal charges carrying up to thirty years in prison," the prosecutor declared. "Your husband will be charged as an accessory, but given his full cooperation, his sentence will likely be reduced to probation and community service, alongside full financial restitution."

Femi closed his eyes, weeping softly in relief. He turned around in his chair, looking at me with profound, heartbreaking regret.

"Bolu... thank you," he whispered.