Chapter 4 - The Stolen PortfolioThree days later.
The quarterly board meeting of Okafor Dominion was scheduled to take place in the grand downtown skyscraper. Aunt Ifeoma and her corporate allies planned to officially declare Obinna permanently incapacitated, transfer his controlling shares to a shell company, and dissolve the logistics empire completely.
Downstairs in the mansion study, I sat at my small writing desk, pretending to organize floral arrangements for the upcoming estate gala.
In reality, my laptop was open to an encrypted cloud drive.
Every financial record, every falsified medical report, and every secretly recorded confession of Dr. Eze discussing the dosage sabotage had been automatically synced to my secure offshore folder.
Suddenly, the study door swung open.
Ngozi, my greedy stepmother, strode into the room wearing a loud, expensive Ankara dress, waving a legal document in the air.
“Amara! Stop playing nursemaid and sign this asset release form immediately!” Ngozi demanded, slamming the papers onto my desk.
I looked up coldly. “What is this?”
“It’s your proxy transfer,” Ngozi sneered, leaning over the desk. “When Ifeoma takes control of the board today, she’s giving our family a five percent cut of the subsidiary transport contracts. You need to sign over your marriage rights so Amara can legally divorce him and marry a real oil tycoon next month.”
I let out a quiet, cold laugh.
Ngozi blinked, taken aback. “What did you say?”
“I said,” I replied, standing up slowly and looking my stepmother dead in the eye, “that Amara can marry whoever she wants. But she’ll have to do it from a prison cell, right beside you and Aunt Ifeoma.”
Ngozi’s face flushed red with rage. “You ungrateful little trash! Without us, you’re nothing! I’ll call the bank right now and have your grandmother’s house foreclosed before sunset!”
“Go ahead, Ngozi,” I said smoothly, picking up my phone. “Call them. Because by the time you hang up, federal economic investigators will already be raiding the Okafor boardroom.”
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Ngozi froze, staring at me as if I had lost my mind.
Before she could speak, my phone buzzed on the desk. A text message flashed across the screen from an encrypted number: “I’m awake, Chisom. Bring me my suit.”
