Chapter 29: The Price of Silence
Jude Anderson's Study – Banana Island Mansion
11:58 PM
Damian didn't sit.
He stood across from his father's desk, jaw tight, shoulders squared—like he was bracing for impact.
"You said you know who made the deepfake," he said. "So say it."
Jude didn't answer immediately.
He poured himself a drink instead. Slow. Measured. Ice clinked softly in the glass like a ticking clock.
"Impatience," Jude said at last, taking a sip. "One of your worst habits."
Damian's voice hardened. "Dad. This isn't a game."
Jude looked at him then—really looked.
"No," he agreed quietly. "It isn't."
A pause stretched between them—long enough for the wall clock to tick twice.
Then—
"It was someone inside this house."
Damian stilled.
"I already told you that," he said. "Who?"
Jude set the glass down. "Someone with access. Someone with motive. Someone who understood exactly what damage that video would do… to you."
Damian's brow furrowed. "To me?"
"Yes." Jude leaned back slightly. "Not the company. Not the shareholders. You."
Silence.
A flicker crossed Damian's face—confusion… then realization.
"You think this is personal."
Jude didn't blink. "I know it is. I'm an old man, Damian. I've seen these games before."
Another pause.
"Then stop talking in riddles," Damian snapped. "Say the name."
Jude's lips curved faintly—but there was no warmth in it.
"I will," he said, "when I'm sure."
Damian let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Unbelievable."
"You're too close to this," Jude continued calmly. "Emotion clouds judgment. I need facts, not reactions."
"And I'm just supposed to wait?" Damian shot back.
"Yes."
The word landed heavy. Firm. Final.
For a moment, it looked like Damian might push further.
Then Jude shifted gears.
"How about what we discussed last time?" he said, his voice dropping. "About you getting a wife."
Damian froze.
"Since you can't come up with one yourself," Jude continued smoothly, "I've decided to handle it."
Damian's eyes widened. "You already found a wife for me? Without my consent?"
Jude sipped again. Five seconds.
"Yes."
Damian's mind raced straight to one name.
Ivy.
The perfect match on paper. The one Temi had been pushing for years. The one who smiled too sweetly—and lied too easily.
Rage rose in his chest.
"You can't be serious."
Jude didn't flinch. "I am."
Damian stormed out.
The door slammed hard enough to rattle the framed photos on the wall.
⸻
Hallway – moments later
Maya stepped out of her room, barefoot, an oversized T-shirt hanging to her knees.
She saw Damian's back disappearing down the corridor, then Jude standing in the study doorway.
"Big brother!"
Damian didn't turn fully. He just glanced over his shoulder.
"Not now, baby."
His voice was clipped. Raw.
Maya's face fell.
She watched him vanish around the corner.
Then she turned to Jude.
"Dad… are you guys okay?"
Jude softened—just a fraction.
"Yes, baby. I'm fine." He tilted his head. "Why don't you go to your room… or better yet, go to your friend's place. What's her name again?"
Maya's eyes lit up instantly.
"Becky!"
"Yeah. Becky." Jude gave a small smile. "Why don't you take her out tomorrow? Spend the day."
Maya threw her arms around him.
"Thank you, Daddy!"
Jude hugged her back—brief, controlled.
When she pulled away and skipped down the hall, his expression didn't change.
He returned to the study.
Closed the door.
Dialed.
"Okon. Come to the house. Now. Bring everything you have on the Bright women—the hospital updates too. And any calls the girl received tonight."
⸻
Cut to:
Lagos General Hospital – Corridor
12:07 AM
Imani sat hunched forward, elbows on her knees, phone still clutched like it might burn her.
The distorted voice looped in her head.
₦5 million.
No police.
Or she dies.
Kings crouched in front of her.
"Talk to me. What happened?"
Imani swallowed. "Someone called."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Her voice cracked.
"They know about Mum. About the surgery. They said… if I don't bring ₦5 million by tomorrow midnight…"
She couldn't finish.
Kings frowned. "Do you owe anyone anything? Girl, what is going on?"
Imani shook her head quickly. "No. Nothing. I don't owe anybody. I don't even talk to people like that."
A pause.
"Maybe it's a wrong number," she whispered, almost pleading.
Kings didn't answer.
Because they both knew it wasn't.
⸻
Cut to:
Banana Island Mansion – Upper Hallway
Same time
Maya stood outside the study door.
It was slightly ajar.
Voices drifted out—low, urgent.
"…₦5 million…"
"…Bright girl…"
"…hospital…"
Maya's fingers tightened at her sides.
She listened.
Then knocked once—soft.
Jude looked up.
Mr. Okon stood near the desk, file in hand.
Maya smiled brightly. "Dad, I'm going to Becky's place now. Okay?"
Jude nodded. "Okay, baby. Be careful."
She greeted Mr. Okon politely. "Good evening, sir."
Then she left.
The door clicked shut.
Jude turned back to Okon.
"Blackmail?" he asked.
"Extortion," Okon corrected.
A beat.
Then, quieter—
"And they know about the hospital."
Jude leaned forward. "Repeat exactly what was said."
Okon did.
Every word.
Every pause.
Every threat.
Jude listened without interrupting—fingers steepled, eyes distant, calculating.
When Okon finished, silence settled again.
"This isn't random," Jude said.
"I figured that much," Okon muttered.
Jude ignored the tone. "Whoever this is—they have eyes inside the hospital… or access to someone who does."
He stood.
Calm. Controlled.
"We don't panic," he said. "Move the timeline forward."
Okon raised an eyebrow.
"No," Jude answered the unspoken question. "He's already involved."
A pause.
"Yes… I'm sure."
Jude's gaze flicked briefly to the door Maya had just passed through.
Then back to Okon.
"One more thing. Arrange a meeting with the Imani girl. At the office. Confidential. Monday morning."
⸻
Cut to:
Surulere Flat – Becky's Room
Next morning
Becky opened the door before Maya even knocked.
Maya stepped inside, carrying two small shopping bags.
"I brought ice cream. And those biscuits you like."
Becky's eyes were red-rimmed.
Maya dropped the bags and hugged her tightly.
"I heard," Maya whispered. "About your mum."
Becky buried her face in Maya's shoulder.
They stayed like that for a long time.
Later, they lay on Becky's narrow bed.
Becky's voice was small. "They want ₦5 million for the surgery… or she might not make it."
Maya swallowed.
"I want to help," she said quietly. "I don't know if your sister, Imani, will let me yet. But I will."
Becky looked at her. "You can't. Your mum—"
"I don't care what she thinks," Maya cut in. "You're my best friend. That's it."
Becky's lip trembled.
Maya squeezed her hand.
Even if it meant tolerating my mum's fake smiles.
Even if it meant lying.
⸻
Cut to:
Anderson Group Headquarters – Monday Morning
9:15 AM
The entire floor went quiet.
Mr. Jude Anderson—retired CEO, rarely seen in years—stepped out of the private elevator.
His shoes clicked against the floor.
His black suit was sharp enough to cut glass.
Staff froze at their desks.
Whispers died mid-sentence.
He walked straight to his office.
Didn't greet anyone.
Didn't need to.
The fear was already in the air.
⸻
Jude's Office – 11:00 AM
A staff member had called Imani from her desk—Mr. Jude was requesting her presence. She had been startled, like she had done something wrong. Fear settled in her chest. Sarian and Lola had already started whispering—she will get sacked today.
Because being called into Jude Anderson's office…
felt like waiting for judgment.
⸻
Imani sat across from him.
Hands folded in her lap to hide the trembling.
Jude didn't waste time.
"I have a proposal for you."
He slid a single sheet of paper across the desk.
Imani read it.
Her breath caught.
"Marry my son, Damian."
She looked up.
Jude continued, his voice even.
"Help him secure his position on the board. In return—₦100 million. Three years. Strictly business. No feelings. No scandal. Clean exit at the end."
Imani's mouth opened… then closed.
Her mind spun.
Damian—who despised her.
Damian—who overloaded her with work, humiliated her in meetings.
Damian—who would make her life hell.
But ₦100 million.
Enough for the surgery.
Enough to save her mother.
Enough to restart Aunty Rose's kiosk—make it something real.
Enough for Becky's school fees through university.
Enough to breathe.
Blogs would tear her apart.
Call her a gold-digger.
Call her a traitor.
And Damian…
She could already hear his laugh—cold, cutting.
Jude watched her.
"I need your answer by tomorrow morning."
Imani stared at the paper.
Her fingers trembled as she folded it.
Jude leaned forward slightly.
"This is protection, Miss Bright. For your family. For your mother—without it looking like charity."
A pause.
Five seconds.
"Do we understand each other?"
Imani met his eyes.
Her voice came out small.
"I… I'll think about it."
Jude nodded once.
"That's all I ask."
Cut to:
Damian's Office – Same time
Damian stared at his laptop screen.
A new email from Legal.
Subject: Marriage Pre-Contract – Draft Review Required
He opened it.
Read the first line.
Froze.
Already irritated by the word.
Cut to black.
Imani's phone buzzed on her desk.
Unknown number again.
She answered—slowly.
The same distorted voice.
"Time's running out, Imani."
A short, chilling laugh.
"You think marrying into the Andersons will save her?"
Imani stiffened.
The same question she had been asking herself.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
"Who is this?"