I didn't stop running until I reached the edge of the estate's gardens, the heavy leather of my father's journal pressed against my heart. My breath came in ragged gasps, the cool Anambra night air stinging my lungs. I looked back at the mansion—the lights in the library were still blazing, a silent battlefield where Alexander was fighting to protect me.
"Please, Alexander," I whispered to the shadows. "Don't let them break you."
I ducked behind a large stone fountain, the sound of splashing water masking my movements. I opened the journal to a random page, my flashlight phone reflecting off the intricate diagrams of the human nervous system. My father had written a note in the margin: 'The pulse is the song of the soul. If you can hear the song, you can heal the singer.'
He had known the "Ancient Pulse" was more than just medicine; it was a way to restore balance. And now, a billionaire board of directors wanted to turn that "song" into a weaponized product for profit.
A rustle in the bushes made me jump. I pulled a small surgical scalpel from my hidden pocket—a habit from my days in the clinic.
"It's me," a voice whispered.
Alexander stepped out from the darkness, his suit jacket gone and his sleeves rolled up. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were bright with a strange sort of triumph.
"Did they find anything?" I asked, stepping toward him.
"Nothing but my father's old tax records and some boring legal briefs," he said, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I told them I moved the sensitive files to a vault in Lagos yesterday. Catherine was furious, but she couldn't prove I was lying."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "You risked everything for these journals. Why? You said the contract was just about the merger."
Alexander walked closer until we were only inches apart. He reached out and touched the cover of the journal in my hands. "The merger is just money, Chidinma. But what's in these pages... what you can do... that's life. My father died because he couldn't find the truth. I won't let you die for it too."
The way he said my name sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cold. The "Contract Marriage" was crumbling, replaced by something much heavier and more dangerous: genuine trust.
"We can't stay here," I said, looking at the drive in my hand. "If they couldn't find the physical journals, they'll start a digital manhunt. They'll track the IP address of the login I used."
"I know," Alexander said, his expression turning serious again. "That's why we're leaving for the city tonight. We have a safe house near Onitsha. No one knows about it—not even Catherine."
As we walked toward the hidden garage, I realized that Chapter 57 was the end of my life as a 'Hidden Husband.' From now on, I was a partner in a revolution.