Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Marriage Clause : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

The message from Chioma burned in Amara's pocket like a live ember, its words a venomous whisper that refused to fade. Meet me at the waterfront. Midnight. Come alone—or the secret dies with me. She stared at the screen, her heart a war drum in her chest. Chioma, arrested just hours ago, now free? Escaped? Or released on some twisted bail orchestrated by remnants of the conspiracy? Amara's fingers trembled as she deleted the message, but the threat lingered, coiling around her thoughts like smoke.Ezekiel slept beside her, his arm draped protectively over her waist, his breathing steady in the dim light of the mansion's master bedroom. The events of the past days had forged something unbreakable between them—a bond tempered in fire, betrayal, and blood. But even now, with his warmth against her, Amara couldn't shake the doubt Vincent had planted. Another player. Someone closer than you think. Was Chioma the final piece, or a distraction from something worse?She slipped from the bed,

The message from Victor Adeyemi hung in the air like a noose, its implications tightening around Amara's throat with every passing hour. Well played. But legacies endure. - V.A. She stared at her phone screen in the dim light of the mansion's library, the words blurring as exhaustion clawed at her. It had been three days since Benson's arrest, three days of police interviews, board meetings, and a fragile peace that felt like glass ready to shatter. KaluTech's shares had stabilized, buoyed by Amara's inherited stake and Ezekiel's strategic maneuvers, but Victor's escape from prison cast a long shadow over their victory."How is this possible?" Amara asked, pacing the room. Ezekiel sat at the desk, his laptop open to a stream of security feeds and police reports. Ifeanyi lounged in an armchair, his face etched with the weariness of a man who'd spent years running, only to find the chase wasn't over."Corruption," Ezekiel said flatly, his fingers flying over the keys. "Victor's network

The engagement party was a whirlwind of champagne flutes and forced smiles, the Kalu mansion transformed into a glittering showcase of Lagos elite. Amara stood beside Ezekiel, her hand in his, the ring on her finger a symbol of their hard-won future. But the anonymous package had shattered the illusion of peace. The USB drive, now plugged into Ezekiel's secure laptop in a private study upstairs, played Victor's posthumous message on loop in her mind: "If you're hearing this, I've failed. But the real player awakens."The screen flickered to Mr. Adebayo's face, the silver-bearded board elder who'd always seemed a benign fixture—wise, steady, the voice of reason amid chaos. His cold smile in the video sent chills down Amara's spine. "Congratulations on unraveling the threads," he said in the recording, his voice smooth as aged palm wine. "But you've only cut the visible ones. The web spans continents. KaluTech's true value isn't in Nigeria—it's global. And now, it's mine."Ezekiel pause

The warehouse was a chaos of gunfire and smoke, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sharp sting of gunpowder. Amara crouched behind a stack of crates, her arm burning where the bullet had grazed her, the locket from Victor clutched in her hand. His crumpled form lay a few feet away, blood pooling beneath him, his eyes flickering but defiant. Ifeanyi stood at the edge of the fray, his gun blazing as he took down one of Adebayo’s men, but the gleam in his eyes—sharp, calculating—sent a shiver through Amara. Was he her savior, or the final twist in this labyrinth of betrayal?“Amara, move!” Ifeanyi shouted, his voice cutting through the din. He gestured toward the computer terminal in the corner, its screen glowing with the shutdown protocol for Adebayo’s cascade hack. “You can stop this!”She hesitated, her gaze darting between Ifeanyi and Victor. The man she’d called her father for years, who’d raised her, loved her, was now a question mark. His sudden appearance, his

The bunker’s air was thick with tension, the hum of servers a constant underscore to the pounding of Amara’s heart. The failsafe countdown blinked on the console—9:58, 9:57—the seconds ticking away like a death knell for the world above. Ngozi stood before her, a mirror image of Nkechi from the old photographs, but twisted, her features sharpened by years of secrets and ambition. Adebayo watched from beside her, his silver beard catching the fluorescent light, his expression one of paternal pride mixed with predatory hunger.Amara’s gun wavered in her hand, her finger hovering over the trigger. The revelation had cracked something inside her—the possibility that her mother had a twin, that Nkechi’s death had been a ruse, a swap to allow Ngozi to continue their dark work. But the coldness in Ngozi’s eyes, the lack of warmth in her voice—it didn’t match the woman Amara remembered, the one who’d painted with her, who’d whispered stories of hope and resilience.“You’re lying,” Amara said,