Chapter 38: Blood in the Ledger
Anderson Estate – Jude's Private Study
Saturday Morning, 8:12 AM
The door slammed open.
Damian didn't knock.
Jude didn't look up immediately.
He finished signing the document in front of him—precise, unhurried—pen scratching like a slow heartbeat.
Only then did he lift his gaze.
"You've lost your sense of timing," Jude said calmly.
Damian crossed the room in three long strides.
Dropped the phone onto the desk with controlled force.
The screen was already lit.
Jude and Victor Adeyemi.
Handshake.
Smiles.
Black onyx cufflinks catching flash.
Silence stretched—thin ice over deep water.
Jude's eyes flicked down once.
Back up.
Unmoved.
"Where did you get this?"
Damian's voice came low.
"Did you hire Kian?"
Jude removed his glasses.
Folded them.
Set them aside with deliberate care.
"I contained him."
"Not the same thing."
Jude leaned back.
Studied his son the way a board member studies quarterly losses—dispassionate, calculating.
"You knew him before the party," Damian continued. "You knew the video existed. And this—" he tapped the screen "—proves you paid someone to make it worse."
Jude exhaled through his nose.
Small sound.
Almost amused.
"I hired control."
"You hired chaos."
"I hired survival."
Five seconds.
Damian's hands curled at his sides.
"This family survives because I make decisions before emotions get in the way," Jude said. "You hesitate. You get attached. And now—"
"You think this is about Imani?"
Jude tilted his head.
"I think she's the variable you can't control."
Damian smiled then.
Cold.
Sharp.
"You're wrong."
"Am I?" Jude's voice softened—dangerously. "You're sleeping in separate rooms, barely speaking. Yet here you are, ready to burn twenty-three years of work because of what she saw on a screen."
Cross-cut – Underground Safe Room, Estate Sub-level
Two Nights Earlier – 11:49 PM
Dim red lighting bled across the walls.
Jude poured whiskey—two fingers exactly—into cut crystal.
Victor Adeyemi watched the amber liquid swirl.
"You said handle the girl's past," Victor said softly. "Not parade it in my ballroom."
Jude slid the glass across.
"Kian was getting greedy. You were supposed to scare him, not let him go live."
Victor's smile was thin.
Amused.
"I improved the plan. Public pressure forces decisions. You wanted Damian locked into this marriage. Now he is. Emotionally invested. Protective. The board will see a united front before the merger vote. No one bets against a family that can bury scandals in twenty-four hours."
Jude's jaw tightened—barely.
"The board doesn't need to see my son's finance humiliated."
Victor lifted the glass in mock toast.
Didn't drink.
"Yet here we are. And the merger is now guaranteed."
He set the glass down untouched.
"Next time, Jude… let me finish the job properly."
Jude didn't answer for five full seconds.
Then—
"Next time, I choose the target."
Victor's smile widened—just a fraction.
Back to the Study – 8:18 AM
Damian leaned forward.
Palms flat on the desk.
"Victor Adeyemi. Your fixer. Twenty years cleaning up your messes. You brought him in on my finance
Jude met his eyes.
"She's safe now."
Damian laughed—short, hollow.
"Safe. From you."
He straightened.
Turned for the door.
Jude's voice stopped him.
"Damian."
Five seconds.
"If you walk out of this alliance, the board pulls funding. The merger dies,you will lose your position as the executive CEO."
Damian didn't turn.
But his shoulders locked.
Because for the first time—
he didn't know if his father was bluffing.
Cross-cut – Ivy's Private Suite, East Wing
Same Time, 8:19 AM
Ivy stood at the window, phone to her ear, emerald robe slipping off one shoulder.
Victor's voice—velvet, intimate.
"Temi still thinks you're the patient one. She has no idea,"
Ivy traced a crack in the glass with one finger.
"She is useful. I will use her to make Imani feel smaller. When she finally breaks—"
"Damian will runs back to the woman who never embarrassed him," Victor finished.
Ivy's reflection smiled.
"I've waited eight years. Eight more days won't kill me. Just make sure the next drop hits right before the board meeting. I want him desperate. Not angry. Desperate."
Victor: "You're starting to sound like me."
She laughed—soft, private.
"I learned from the best."
She ended the call.
Expression shifted instantly.
No warmth.
Only precision.
She opened her hidden gallery.
Selected the latest photo Victor had sent—her
Then texting an unknown number:
It's up to you now.
Ivy forwarded it.
No caption.
Just the image.
To the same unknown number.
Cross-cut – Victoria Island – Exclusive Rooftop Bar
Saturday Evening, 7:44 PM
Neon bled across the Lagos skyline.
Low bass thrummed under conversation.
Andrea, Banni, and Gregory had Damian cornered at the high-top table.
Andrea leaned in first.
"You're in love with her. Just admit it."
Damian's glass paused halfway to his mouth.
"No."
Gregory snorted.
"Bro. You snapped at that guy at the charity dinner like he'd touched your sister. You watch her like she's about to disappear. You're not fooling anyone."
Banni swirled her drink.
"Andrea's right. You're protective. Possessive. And miserable. That's love, Damian. Ugly version, but still love."
Damian set the glass down.
Hard.
"I'm protecting an asset. That's it."
Andrea's eyes narrowed.
"She doesn't deserve your games."
Five seconds.
Damian looked at her—really looked.
"She's not a game."
The words slipped out before he could catch them.
Silence at the table.
Andrea softened—just a fraction.
"Then stop treating her like one."
Damian stared at the city lights.
Didn't answer.
Cross-cut – Unknown Location – Surveillance Room
Same Time
Multiple screens glowed.
Live feeds.
Anderson Estate hallways.
Jude's study door closing.
Imani walking alone down the east corridor—shoulders tight, head down.
The man in the black tuxedo leaned back in his chair.
Watched.
A faint smile curved his lips.
"They took the bait," he murmured.
He picked up his burner.
Typed one message.
To Ivy's private line:
Jude just threatened to cut the merger if Damian walks. Your window just opened.
Send.
Then another—to the same unknown thread that had received the ballroom photo:
They think the cage is closing. They have no idea it was never meant to hold only one person.
He hit send.
Leaned forward.
Zoomed in on the feed showing Imani.
She stopped in the hallway.
Looked directly at the camera—almost as if she felt it.
Her eyes narrowed.
Just for a second.
Then she kept walking.
The man's smile faded.
Replaced by something colder.
"Smart girl," he whispered.
Back to the Rooftop Bar – 8:02 PM
Damian's phone buzzed.
He glanced down.
Unknown number.
Live link.
He tapped it.
The feed opened.
Inside Jude's study—minutes ago.
Jude and Victor.
Audio faint but clear.
Victor: "Next time, I choose the target."
Jude: "Next time, I choose the target."
No.
The opposite.
Jude's voice—low, final.
"Next time, I choose the target."
But the camera angle shifted slightly.
Revealed a third figure in the doorway.
Half in shadow.
A shadow wearing a maid uniform
Listening.
Smiling.
The feed cut.
Damian's hand tightened around the phone.
Cracked the case.
Andrea saw his face.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
Stood.
Walked straight to the railing.
Looked down at the city.
Then back at his friends.
Voice low.
Raw.
"I think my father just sold my marriage to keep his empire."
A beat.
Gregory: "Then what are you going to do?"
Damian's eyes went flat.
He turned.
Headed for the exit.
Phone buzzed again.
New message.
Same unknown sender.
One photo.
Imani—alone in the east wing corridor.
Looking straight at the camera.
Caption:
She knows you're watching.
Question is… who else is?
Damian froze.
Because in the reflection of the hallway mirror behind Imani—
A figure.with a
maid uniform .
Standing just out of her sightline.
Smiling.
Not directly at the lens.
The invisible villain wasn't invisible anymore.
He was already inside.
And he was coming for all of them.