The TechWave boardroom felt colder than usual.
The long glass table stretched across the room while Lagos traffic moved far below the building. Normally this room represented power and ambition. Today it felt like a courtroom.
Daevyd walked in calmly.
His tall slim frame carried the quiet confidence of a man who had built something from nothing, but the silence inside the room told him everything had changed.
Six investors sat around the table.
None of them were smiling.
Mr Okafor, the lead investor, folded his hands slowly.
"Sit down, Daevyd."
Daevyd pulled out a chair and sat.
"I assume this is about the fashion week situation."
Mr Okafor nodded.
"It has become a serious public issue."
Another investor leaned forward.
"Your name is trending across every media platform in Lagos."
Daevyd stayed calm.
"That situation has nothing to do with TechWave."
One of the younger investors shook his head.
"That is where you are wrong."
The room grew tense.
"TechWave is about to enter its biggest funding round," the investor continued. "The last thing we need is a scandal involving the company's founder."
Daevyd crossed his arms.
"I exposed a design theft. That is not a scandal."
Mr Okafor sighed.
"This is business, Daevyd. Perception matters more than truth."
The words hung heavily in the air.
Daevyd studied their faces.
"So what exactly do you want from me?"
Mr Okafor pushed a document across the table.
"We want distance between TechWave and the situation."
Daevyd glanced down at the document.
Then his eyes hardened.
"You want me to step away."
"Temporarily," Mr Okafor said carefully.
"Until the situation settles."
Daevyd leaned back in his chair.
"And how exactly do I make the situation settle?"
Another investor answered bluntly.
"Publicly separate yourself from Shemmy Esther."
The words landed like a stone in the room.
Daevyd stared at them.
"That is not happening."
The younger investor spoke again.
"You are thinking emotionally."
Daevyd's voice dropped.
"No. I am thinking like a man who refuses to abandon someone when things get difficult."
Mr Okafor shook his head slowly.
"This company is bigger than your relationship."
Daevyd met his gaze.
"I built this company before any of you invested."
"That may be true," Mr Okafor replied calmly, "but TechWave now belongs to its shareholders."
The message was clear.
They had the power now.
Mr Okafor pushed the document closer.
"Sign the agreement. Step aside as CEO temporarily."
Daevyd did not even touch the paper.
"No."
The room stiffened.
Mr Okafor frowned.
"If you refuse, the board will vote."
Daevyd nodded once.
"Then vote."
The board members exchanged glances.
Hands began to rise.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
The decision was obvious.
Mr Okafor lowered his hand last.
"The motion passes."
Silence filled the boardroom.
"You are suspended as CEO of TechWave until further notice."
For a moment, Daevyd said nothing.
This company had started on a small laptop in his apartment.
Now the board had taken it away.
He stood slowly and picked up his jacket.
"You just handed TechWave to Tunde," he said quietly.
No one answered.
Daevyd walked out.
Outside the building, the Lagos heat wrapped around him instantly.
His phone rang.
Shemmy.
He answered.
"How did the meeting go?" she asked.
He took a breath.
"They removed me."
Silence filled the call.
"What?"
"The board suspended me as CEO."
Her voice softened with guilt.
"This is my fault."
"No."
"If I hadn't confronted Tara…"
Daevyd interrupted gently.
"You did the right thing."
Across the city in a luxury office tower, Tunde stood by a window overlooking Lagos Island.
A television played the news.
The headline flashed across the screen.
TechWave CEO Removed After Fashion Scandal.
Nadia sat nearby scrolling through social media.
"The internet believes Tara's story," she said.
Tunde smiled slowly.
"Good."
"And TechWave?"
"My sources say the board just voted him out."
Tunde lifted his glass.
"Perfect."
Back in Lekki, Shemmy stood on the balcony staring at the skyline.
The lights of the city flickered across the lagoon.
When Daevyd arrived an hour later she ran into his arms.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He held her tightly.
"This isn't over."
They stood together quietly, the city humming below them.
For a moment everything felt calm again.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She frowned.
Another message followed immediately.
A video file.
Her heart began to beat faster as she opened it.
The clip started playing.
It was inside her studio.
Her private studio.
The camera moved slowly across the room showing her sketchbook, her fabric table and her laptop.
Then the video zoomed in on a hand opening her laptop.
A man's hand.
The screen showed files being copied onto a flash drive.
Shemmy's heart stopped.
She recognized the bracelet on the wrist.
She had seen it before.
Every single day.
Inside her studio.
The video ended.
A message appeared.
"The thief is closer than you think."
Daevyd noticed her expression.
"What happened?"
Her voice barely came out.
"The designs weren't stolen from outside."
She slowly turned the phone toward him.
"They were taken from inside my studio."
Daevyd's eyes darkened.
"Who had access?"
Shemmy's mind ran through the names.
Her assistants.
Her staff.
Her friends.
Then suddenly one name surfaced.
And her blood ran cold.
Because if the video was real…
the person who betrayed her was someone she trusted completely.