บททั้งหมดของ The Marriage Clause : บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

The air in the study turned thick, the faint hum of Lagos’s night sounds swallowed by the weight of Tari’s gun pointed at Amara’s chest. Her pulse roared in her ears, but she forced herself to meet his gaze, searching for the charming, reckless brother Ezekiel had described. All she saw was a man cornered, his eyes flickering with something that wasn’t quite guilty but wasn’t quite resolved either. “Tari,” Ezekiel said, his voice low and steady, stepping slightly in front of Amara. His gun was still in his hand, but he kept it at his side, his posture deceptively calm. “Put it down. Whatever you’re doing, it’s not worth this. ”Tari’s grip tightened, his knuckles whitening. “You don’t get it, Zeke. You never did. This isn’t about worth—it’s about survival.”Amara clutched the ledger and photographed, her fingers digging into the leather as if it could anchor her. “Survival". she snapped, her voice cutting through the tension. “You’re pointing a gun at us over an offshore account?

Amara’s world tilted, the studio’s familiar walls blurring as she stared at the man who’d just spoken. Her father’s voice—gruff, weathered, but undeniably his—cut through the chaos like a blade. The ledger slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were locked on the hooded figure, searching for the face she hadn’t seen in five years.“Dad?” she whispered, her voice cracking. Her heart screamed it was impossible, but there he was—Ifeanyi Obi, alive, standing in her studio with a gun pointed at her. His eyes, once warm and full of laughter, were now shadowed, haunted, and cold.“Step back, Amara,” he said again, his tone leaving no room for argument. His gun didn’t waver, trained on her and Ezekiel, who stood frozen beside her, his hand twitching toward his own weapon.Chioma, still tied to the chair, let out a choked sob. “Amara, what’s going on?”Amara couldn’t answer. Her mind was a storm of disbelief and betrayal. She took a step

The studio was a swirl of chaos—police barking orders, Maya’s men being cuffed, and the acrid smell of burnt paper lingering from the destroyed ledger. Amara stood frozen, the USB drive in her hand feeling like a live grenade, the video on the officer’s phone replaying in her mind. The man in the shadows, his voice cold and precise, had known about the drive. He’d known about her. And he wanted her silenced.Ezekiel was at her side, his face grim as he spoke to the lead officer, his voice low and urgent. Chioma, now free, clung to Amara’s arm, her eyes wide with fear but blazing with loyalty. “Who was that guy in the video?” she whispered. “And what the hell is going on, Amara?”“I don’t know,” Amara admitted, her voice barely steady. “But I’m going to find out.”Her father, Ifeanyi, stood a few feet away, his hands cuffed behind him as an officer questioned him. His eyes met Amara’s, and the weight of his regret was almost tangible. She wanted to run to him, to demand answers, but th

Amara’s breath caught in her throat as Chioma stepped into the hallway, her gun steady, her eyes cold and unrecognizable. The woman who’d been her best friend, her confidante, her sister in every way but blood, now held a weapon pointed at Amara’s chest. The bathroom door was behind her, the laptop with the sent emails clutched in her arms, but escape felt impossible. The hotel room was a warzone—Ezekiel and Adeyemi grappling on the floor, Ifeanyi subduing the officer, and now this.“Chioma?” Amara’s voice was a whisper, laced with disbelief and hurt. “What are you doing?”Chioma’s face twisted, but not with regret—with something darker, something calculated. “Drop the laptop, Amara. Don’t make this harder.”Amara’s mind reeled. Chioma, who’d screamed with excitement over the marriage proposal, who’d held her through nights of grief over her father’s disappearance, who’d been her rock. This couldn’t be real. “You’re with him?” she asked, her voice breaking. “With Adeyemi?”Chioma’s li

The old studio reeked of stale paint and betrayal, the air thick with the ghosts of Amara’s past creations. Moonlight filtered through cracked windows, casting jagged shadows on the canvases stacked against the walls. Vincent Adeyemi stood before her, his gun a dark extension of his arm, his face twisted into a mask of triumph and madness. The folder with Nkechi’s will lay at her feet, where she’d dropped it in shock, the note from her mother fluttering like a warning she’d ignored.“You,” Amara breathed, her voice a mix of rage and disbelief. “You were behind it all. Not Victor.”Vincent’s laugh was low, echoing in the empty space. “My brother was always the face—charming, ruthless, but predictable. I was the brain. The one who built Obsidian Ventures from the shadows. Victor thought he controlled it, but I pulled the strings. And now, with Nkechi’s shares, I’ll control KaluTech too.”Amara’s shoulder throbbed from the earlier wound, but she forced herself to stand tall, her eyes sc