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Chapter 5 - The Second HearingFriday morning arrived with thick, grey storm clouds rolling over the hills of Enugu.

The courtroom of Justice Adeleke was packed to capacity. Word had spread through the local legal community about the sensational divorce battle between the fast-rising billionaire barrister and his estranged market-woman wife.

Ifeoma sat in the front row of the gallery, wearing a pristine white designer suit, looking supremely confident as she whispered into the ear of Chuka’s lead counsel, Barrister Danjuma.

Chuka strode into the courtroom with an air of aristocratic triumph, his gold-rimmed glasses gleaming under the fluorescent lights. He didn't even look in my direction as he took his seat at the plaintiff’s table.

I sat quietly at the respondent’s table, dressed in a simple, dignified navy blue dress, holding a single, heavy leather portfolio across my knees.

“Suit number EHC/482/2026: Chuka Nwosu versus Amara Nwosu,” the court clerk announced loudly.

Justice Adeleke, a stern, incorruptible judge known for his zero-tolerance policy toward judicial dishonesty, adjusted his glasses and looked down from the bench.

“Counsel for the plaintiff, you may present your updated asset declarations and response to the respondent’s counter-claim,” Justice Adeleke instructed.

Barrister Danjuma stood up smoothly, buttoning his jacket. “My Lord, we maintain that the respondent has zero legal or financial claim to the plaintiff’s estate. The petitioner is a self-made legal practitioner who built his practice entirely through his own intellectual labor, private loans, and high-level corporate partnerships. The respondent’s claims of historical financial contribution are entirely fabricated and meritless.”

Chuka smiled smugly from his seat, nodding in quiet agreement.

Justice Adeleke turned his stern gaze toward me. “Mrs. Nwosu, you are representing yourself. Do you have any formal defense to submit against the petitioner’s claims?”

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I stood up slowly, picking up my leather portfolio, and walked steadily toward the witness stand.

“Yes, My Lord,” I said, my voice ringing clear and steady across the silent, packed courtroom. “I have a defense. And I have the receipts.”

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