Chapter 40: Work Sabotage 2.0
Anderson Corporate Tower – Imani's Office
Monday Night, 11:47 PM
The floor was silent except for the low hum of the air-conditioner and the occasional click of Imani's mouse.
Her desk lamp cast a lonely pool of gold across the chaos—three monitors open, notebooks scattered, empty coffee cups forming a small fortress. The major client proposal for the Lagos Port Authority merger had to be perfect by 8 a.m. tomorrow. One hundred and twenty-seven pages of projections, risk matrices, and the exact language that would lock the board's vote.
She refreshed the shared drive for the third time.
The folder was empty.
Her stomach dropped.
She opened the backup folder.
Also empty.
Every version—gone.
Imani's fingers froze over the keyboard.
"Sarian?" she called down the darkened corridor. "Lola? Did either of you touch the Port file?"
No answer.
They just stare back at her
Sarian response
Aren't you the almighty fixer,
Clearly you aren't smart as we thought
If something is missing it obviously you forgot to save them
And why are you doing this,accusing us of touching your system!
The one boss Damian clearly told us not to mess with
We know your plan,you clearly want to get us sacked,
But guess what,Mrs finance
You are just a finance,not the wife yet and the better you understand the difference,then good for you
She stood, heart already climbing.
The glass door to the open-plan area slid open.
Sarian was at her desk, packing her bag slowly. Lola leaned against the filing cabinet, arms folded, smiling the way people smile when they know something you don't.
"Problem?" Lola asked sweetly.
Imani kept her voice even.
"Where is the proposal?"
Sarian didn't look up.
"Must have been a sync error."
Five seconds.
Imani stepped closer.
"Both backups are gone. The cloud history is wiped. That's not a sync error. That's deliberate."
Lola tilted her head.
"Accidents happen, Imani. Especially when someone's… distracted."
The word landed like a pin in fabric.
Imani felt the small pressure settle—manageable, but wrong. The kind of discomfort that makes your skin itch before you know why.
She exhaled.
"I'll fix it."
Sarian laughed softly.
"Tonight? Good luck."
They left.
Their heels echoed down the corridor like retreating footsteps in a horror film.
Cross-cut – Surveillance Sub-Level
Same Time
Victor Adeyemi sat in the dark, one leg crossed over the other, black onyx cufflinks catching the monitor glow.
He watched Imani's face on the main screen—tight jaw, determined eyes.
He pressed a single key.
The red countdown timer in the corner of every feed ticked forward.
00:11:09
A soft chuckle escaped him.
"Run, little girl," he murmured. "Fix what I already broke twice."
He leaned back, patient as ever.
The invisible hand never needed to be seen.
Back to Imani's Office
2:19 AM
The office smelled of cold coffee and panic.
Imani's eyes burned. She had rebuilt forty-three pages from memory and screenshots she'd taken weeks ago. Every formula double-checked. Every clause rewritten from the original email chain she'd forwarded to herself months earlier—thank God for paranoia.
Her shoulders ached. Her neck screamed.
But the file was almost whole again.
She saved.
Closed her eyes for one second.
Just one.
Her head dropped to the desk.
Cross-cut – Executive Elevator
2:31 AM
Damian rode up alone.
He hadn't planned to come.
But after the Sunday rice disaster, after the way her hand had felt on his jaw, after the stupid jealousy that still sat hot in his chest—he couldn't sleep.
He told himself it was duty.
He was lying.
The elevator doors opened on the PA floor.
Her office light was the only one still on.
He walked toward it slowly.
Stopped in the doorway.
Imani was asleep at her desk—face turned sideways on her folded arms, lashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks, one hand still loosely curled around the mouse.
She looked small.
Fragile in a way that made something inside his ribs crack open.
He stepped inside.
Took off his jacket—still warm from his body—and draped it gently over her shoulders.
The fabric settled like a promise he hadn't meant to make.
He stood there longer than he should have.
Watching the slow rise and fall of her breathing.
Thinking thoughts he had no right to think.
She stayed all night to save something I didn't even know was in danger.
She never asks for help.
And I keep treating her like a problem instead of…
He swallowed.
The word wouldn't form.
Not yet.
Five seconds.
He reached out—almost brushed a strand of hair from her face—then pulled back.
Turned to leave before she woke and saw the softness he couldn't afford to show.
Cross-cut – Surveillance Sub-Level
2:34 AM
Victor zoomed in.
Damian's hand hovering.
The jacket.
The way his shoulders dropped when he looked at her.
Victor's smile thinned.
"Emotional," he whispered. "Exactly what I need."
He typed a command.
The countdown jumped.
00:09:47
Then he sent one quiet message to an unsaved number:
He's falling. Accelerate the mother feed. Make it personal.
Back to Imani's Office
2:37 AM
Damian had just reached the elevator when Imani's phone—face-down on the desk—lit up.
She didn't wake.
But the screen was visible from the doorway.
Damian froze.
Live feed notification.
Hospital Room 407 – Real-time.
A single thumbnail.
Her mother's face—pale, thin, eyes closed—hooked to monitors.
Caption beneath:
She's been asking for you.
Tick tock.
Damian's blood turned to ice.
He stepped back toward the desk.
Reached for the phone.
But before his fingers touched it—
The feed went live.
Imani's mother's voice—weak, confused—came through the speaker.
"Imani… baby… where are you?"
Imani stirred.
Eyes fluttering open.
She saw Damian standing over her.
Saw her phone in his hand.
Saw the live hospital feed.
And the look on his face—pure, unguarded terror.
Her voice came out hoarse.
"Damian… what is that?"
He didn't answer.
Not immediately.
Five seconds stretched like wire.
Then—
His voice was low. Raw.
"Someone's in the room with your mother right now."
Imani sat up fast.
The jacket slid off her shoulders.
On the screen—
A shadow moved behind the hospital curtain.
A man's silhouette.
Black onyx cufflinks catching the overhead light for half a second.
Gone.
The feed cut to black.
But the message that replaced it stayed.
Fix the proposal.
Or she won't wake up tomorrow.
Imani's breath stopped.
Damian looked at her—really looked.
And for the first time, he made the decision out loud.
"I'm not leaving you alone tonight."