My soul was weak.

But my legs still carried me up the stairs, I needed to think.

I sat down.

For a moment… everything felt heavy.

Then a voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

Amanda.

“Reti, I find you attractive and I think… no, I know… I’m sure I want you. I need you. I love you.”

Ah.

I blinked.

“You’ve been ignoring me, not giving me attention. I know you’re playing hard to get so I can fall harder which you’ve achieved. Just one date and you’ll want me.”

Omo.

Go girl. 

But… is this the right time for love confession with this level of corporate crisis?

I quietly moved up the stairs and hid behind the wall.

Don’t worry.

Trust your girl.

I must hear this gist. I will not be the last to know.

Reti adjusted his sleeves, the kind of movement that says, I know my worth.

He glanced at his watch.

And that watch?

Shining like it has its own electricity bill.

His skin? Glowing. His cologne?

Mint. Clean. Dangerous.

Ah. Focus Bolatito. This is not the time to admire a suspect.

He finally spoke.

Cold. Calm. Intentional.

“Who are you? Do you work here?”

Amanda opened her mouth to answer. 

He slipped his hands into his pockets.

“It was a rhetorical question. Do you know what that means? You don’t need to answer.”

Omo…

Danger.

He stepped closer.

“This is my first time seeing you. That already tells me how insignificant you are here.”

Ah.

Even me that I’m hiding, I felt that one.

“And now you’ve come to one of my quiet spaces to confess… whatever this is.”

He paused.

“Let me make it clear. I don’t see you as a woman. I don’t see you as a friend.”

Silence.

“You are nothing. And you will remain nothing.”

He walked away. He didn’t look back. Didn’t blink. Nothing.

Omo.

That “no” is not just no. That one is final answer.

I’m not Amanda, but I felt the pain.

This man? Heart of stone.

I stood up slowly.

Time to leave.

But somehow…

My legs carried me straight to the Finance Department.

Before I could stop myself. 

I was standing in front of Thomas’s office.

His presence alone?

Intimidation.

Heavy.

Controlled.

Like someone that knows more than he should.

I stepped in. And that’s when I noticed it.

The office.

Omo…

Polished wood desk that looked like it came straight from abroad.

Glass walls so clean you could see your future inside.

A faint scent of oud and expensive cologne mixing in the air.

Even the AC felt rich.

And their suits?

Tailored. Structured. Expensive.

These people are not just working…

they are working well. 

At this point I’m asking myself, is being tall, fine, and well-built part of the job requirement?

Because what is this consistency?? 

Then his voice cut through my thoughts.

“Why are you in my office? Observing… or do you want to talk?”

Authoritative. Sharp. Ah.

Bolatito, you entered this one yourself. Speak.

My mouth refused to move.

God abeg.

When I’m not supposed to talk, I’ll talk.

Now that I need to talk, nothing. I wept in my mind.

Now I understand why Jesus wept. 

Daughter of Zion, talk.

Nothing.

He stood up slowly…

Then turned his phone towards me.

“Since you’ve suddenly become mute, I think you have more pressing issues to handle.”

I looked at the screen.

My heart dropped.

The blogger had posted again.

“An anonymous source has revealed the identity of the person behind the money laundering. Confirmation in progress. Name dropping soon.”

Omo.

This is no longer rumor.

This is countdown.

“You can leave my office,” Thomas said calmly.

My legs didn’t wait for instructions.

They carried me out immediately.

And all I could think was. 

Please, God…

Let that name not be mine.