Chapter 6
The sharp, terrifying sound of shattering glass echoed through the dining room, cutting off whatever response David was about to utter. Shards of crystal and windowpane rained down over the plates of fried plantains and spiced beef, glittering ominously in the amber light of the chandelier. Mama shrieked, throwing her hands over her purple gele as she ducked beneath the mahogany table. Marcus Vance immediately reacted with practiced professional coolness, stepping back into the shadows of the hallway and pulling out a secure satellite phone.
"Stay down!" Marcus ordered sharply, his eyes darting toward the broken front windows.
Outside on the dark suburban street, angry voices swelled into a chaotic roar. Someone shouted David’s name, followed by heavy thuds against the front door as fists and heavy objects slammed into the reinforced wood. The illusion of safety and bourgeois respectability that the Adebayo family had carefully cultivated for over a decade was being violently beaten to pieces in real time.
David scrambled backward, his black button-down shirt torn slightly at the shoulder as he tripped over a dining chair. He crawled toward the window, peering cautiously through the jagged frame into the dimly lit front yard. What he saw made the blood run cold in his veins. A crowd of at least a dozen people had gathered on the lawn, holding flickering flashlights and crude protest signs that read DEBTOR and LIAR.
"Who are they?" David whispered, terror choking his voice. "How do they know where I live?"
Maya did not duck or hide. She stood upright near the archway, her gold silk dress shimmering as she calmly watched the chaos unfold outside. Her posture remained completely unbothered, as if a brick coming through her window was nothing more than an inconvenient weather shift. She looked down at David cowering on the floor, her expression devoid of any sympathy.
"They are the local investors, David," Maya said evenly, her voice carrying easily over the distant shouts. "The small-business owners, the teachers, the retirees from your mother’s church whom you convinced to put their life savings into your phantom real estate syndicate. Did you really think you could embezzle four million dollars and expect people to just quietly write it off as a bad market trend?"
Mama froze beneath the table, her face draining of all color as she stared up through the table legs at her son. Her lips parted in horror.
"Embezzlement?" Mama choked out, her voice shaking violently. "David... tell me she is lying. Tell me you didn't touch church funds. Tell me you didn't steal from the elders who prayed for your success!"
David refused to meet his mother’s eyes. He pressed his back against the baseboard heater, trembling like a trapped animal. The web of deceit he had spun had finally collapsed inward, crushing him under its immense weight.
Marcus Vance stepped forward from the hallway shadows, holding his phone out toward Maya.
"Mrs. Adebayo," Marcus said quietly, ignoring the commotion outside. "The transfer protocols are complete. The primary accounts are unfrozen. But there is a condition attached to the release of the principal capital."
May you like
Maya turned her head, raising an eyebrow. "What condition?"
Marcus didn't answer with words. Instead, the front door—unable to withstand the continuous battering outside—finally splintered off its hinges and crashed inward with a deafening bang.
