The morning before the wedding, the mansion was too quiet. Jeremy was dressed in his navy blue suit, ready for work when his mother pressed the button on her motorized wheelchair and said, “My son, sit.” He squatted beside her, holding her hands like he always did. Then, Madame Sarah’s voice shook. “Jeremy, you cannot marry Anita.

” His heart stopped. The air felt heavy. “Mama, what are you saying?” She unlocked her phone, pressed play, and a woman’s voice filled the room. It was Anita, just 48 hours to our wedding. Calm down, Anita said on the recording. All the plans are in place. I don’t love him one bit.

 After the wedding, once I have access to his company’s account, I will wipe out everything. I’ve also perfected plans to use his company to defraud a foreign investor of $1 million. Then I’ll vanish and he’ll be behind bars. Let’s see how his overprotective mother will save him. Jeremy’s hands went cold. His eyes widened. His mouth opened, but no words came out. “Where? Where did you get this?” he whispered.

 Madame Sarah’s lips trembled, but her gaze was steady. “I was there last night in the hallway.” She thought I was in my room. The recording ended. There was a long silence. Then the doorbell rang. 24 hours earlier. The house had been bright with wedding plans. Workers were moving around with fabric samples.

 Photographers were measuring light in the living room. A decorator stood under the chandelier, checking the angles of white flowers against the marble floor. The whole place looked like a dream set for a TV show. In the middle of it all, sat Madame Sarah, 75, small and strong, in her wheelchair. She wore a neat green anchor with a matching head tie, the color of hope.

 She watched everything like a captain watches the sea. She had promised long ago after her husband Lucas died and little Jeremy was only seven that she would never remarry. She would give all of herself to her son. She did. Every meal saved. Every pair of shoes worn until the souls thinned. Every prayer whispered at night. No shortcuts.

 No second chances with strangers. So when Jeremy, now a billionaire CEO, brought home Anita. Beautiful, confident, with a smile that could open doors, Mama watched with sharp eyes. She was polite. She was warm, but she watched. Anita moved through the house like a queen who had just found her palace. She greeted everybody. She blessed the cooks. She laughed at jokes that were not funny.

 She called, “Madame Sarah,” “Mama,” in a sweet voice, but sometimes when she thought no one was looking, her smile fell off her face like a mask. It was a small thing, a quick thing, but Mama saw it. That evening, the decorators left. The photographers packed up. The marble floor shone like water. In the kitchen, the lights were soft and the smell of jolof rice floated in the air. Anita’s phone buzzed on the table.

 She looked down the corridor toward Madame Sarah’s room and picked the call. What Anita did not know was that Mama was not sleeping. She had rolled quietly into the hallway to drink warm water. She paused when she heard Anita speak. Just 48 hours to our wedding. Calm down. The words spilled out fast, sharp like a knife.

 Mama froze. Every hair on her arm stood up. She did not breathe. She pressed the record button on her phone. Anita’s voice kept going about wiping accounts, about the foreign investor, about disappearing and letting Jeremy take the fall. When the call ended, Anita put the phone down and hummed as if nothing had happened. She poured juice. She checked her nails.

 She smiled at a mirror that showed only her. Mama’s fingers shook as she rolled backward. She pressed the wheelchair button gently, returned to her room, and closed the door. Then she cried quietly. The way strong people cry when nobody is watching. She remembered Lucas.

 She remembered Jeremy’s tiny hands holding her dress on the first day of school. She remembered selling her gold ring to pay a hospital bill. She remembered hunger. She remembered prayers that felt like whispers in a storm. She pressed the phone to her chest. “God, not this,” she said. She wiped her eyes and made a plan. Morning came with a thin gray light. The mansion woke up slowly. The chef arranged breakfast. A driver polished the car outside.

 Jeremy came downstairs in his navy blue suit, smiling. Mama, how are you this morning? She didn’t return the smile. My son, sit. He did. He held her hands like always big, warm hands that had signed million-doll contracts, but never forgot to hold his mother’s fingers gently. Mama, what is it? Remember our struggles? she said, her voice soft but firm. Remember how we climbed one step at a time.

 Your success is not luck. It is pain that learned to stand. I swore to protect you. Jeremy’s smile faded. Mama. She told him everything. The hallway, the call, the words, the recording. She pressed play. He listened. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, breathtight. Anita, he breathed. He stood up, paced, sat again.

 No, it can’t be. He reached for the phone himself, pressed play again and again, as if the sound would change. It did not. He looked at his mother. She looked back, tears shining, but her voice steady. “What do you want to do?” Jeremy wiped his face with the back of his hand. The boy in him wanted to hide. The man in him stood up tall.

 He took a long breath, picked up his phone, and called the Johnson’s Anita’s parents. Good morning, sir. Good morning, Ma. I’m sorry, but the wedding is cancelled. There was a shocked gasp on the other end. Questions, anger, pleading. Jeremy did not raise his voice. It’s not a decision I made lightly. I will explain soon.

 He ended the call and leaned his forehead against his mother’s. Thank you, mama. Then the doorbell rang. He walked to the door and opened it. It was Anita, smiling, glowing, holding a small box with a ribbon. Baby, a little surprise, she sang. For our big day, Jeremy didn’t step aside. He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

 The mask was perfect again, eyes bright, cheeks soft, lips sweet. “Mama is inside?” she asked, peeking past him. “Jeremy didn’t answer. In the living room, the marble floor shone. The expensive sofas sat like quiet witnesses. The chandelier threw diamonds of light on the walls. Madame Sarah in her green anchor and headtie waited in her wheelchair, hands folded, face calm like a judge. Anita stepped in anyway, perfume floating behind her.

 Mama, good morning, she sang. I brought a gift for you. Thank you, Mama said. Sit. Anita Saturday. Jeremy stayed standing, arms folded, eyes hard. The room felt colder. Anita looked from mother to son. Her smile flickered. Is everything okay? Mama turned the wheelchair slightly, so she faced Anita directly. Her eyes were gentle, but they did not move away.

Yesterday evening, she began. You were in the kitchen. Anita’s smile returned too wide. Yes, I made tea. You made a call, Mama said. Anita’s lashes fluttered. A call? Oh, yes. My cousin called to congratulate me. Mama lifted her phone, tapped the screen, and placed it on the glass table.

 The play icon waited like a red eye, Jeremy spoke for the first time. Pressing play will change everything. Anita swallowed. What is this? A chance, Jeremy said, his voice low. To tell the truth before the truth tells itself. For the first time, Anita’s face cracked. A small line appeared between her brows. Her fingers tightened around the ribboned box.

 The house felt like it was holding its breath. Then Jeremy’s other phone buzzed. He glanced down. The caller ID flashed. Barristister Jude. Anita’s eyes darted to the screen, then back to the small red play icon on the table. Mama’s thumb hovered over it. Don’t, Anita said softly. The doorbell rang again louder this time.

 Who is that? Jeremy asked, not moving. No one answered. The bell rang a third time, echoing through the marble and glass. Jeremy looked at his mother. Mama nodded. He took a step toward the door. Anita stood up fast. Jeremy, please. I can explain. He reached for the handle. The bell stopped. Silence flooded the room like water filling a bowl. Jeremy pulled the door open and froze.

 Jeremy’s hand trembled slightly as he pulled the door wide open. Outside stood two men in dark suits. Their faces were sharp. Official. Behind them was a black SUV parked by the gate, engine still humming. Good morning, sir. The taller one said, flashing an ID card. Federal Investigation Unit. We need to speak with Miss Anita Johnson.

 Now, Jeremy’s heart dropped into his stomach. He stepped back, eyes darting to Anita, who froze like a deer caught in headlights. Her perfect smile collapsed. Me? She stammered. What’s this about? The second man, shorter and sterner, flipped open a file.

 We have reason to believe you’ve been involved in a planned fraud scheme involving a foreign investor’s funds. We received a tip along with evidence. His eyes flicked toward Jeremy’s mother, sitting calmly in her wheelchair in the living room. Anita’s lips parted, but no sound came out. The box she held slipped from her hands and landed on the marble floor with a hollow thud.

 Inside, something rattled like broken glass. Jeremy stepped aside, torn between shock and fury. His mother’s face remained unreadable, but her hands pressed firmly against the arms of her wheelchair, steadying herself. Officers, please. Anita’s voice cracked as she turned to Jeremy. Baby, tell them.

 This is all a mistake. I love you. I was set up. Jeremy’s jaw clenched. Do you? He asked, his voice low, sharp, and dangerous. Do you really love me? The officers moved forward, one pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Miss Anita Johnson, you are under arrest.

 You will have the right to speak in court, but for now, you’re coming with us. She tried to run toward Jeremy, but he stepped back, refusing her touch.” The taller officer grabbed her by the wrist, clamping the cold steel cuff around her arm. “Jeremy, please.” Anita cried, her mascara smudging as tears finally rolled down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean it. It was just talk. I was angry.

 You can’t let them take me.” Jeremy’s hands bowled into fists. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Instead, he whispered, “Talk? You called ruining my life talk?” Madame Sarah finally spoke, her voice calm but firm.

 “If you meant no harm, why did you say it when you thought no one was listening?” Anita’s gaze darted between mother and son, wild, desperate. “Because, because.” Her words caught in her throat. The officers pulled her toward the door. As she struggled, her phone slipped from her pocket and skidded across the marble floor. Jeremy bent down and picked it up. On the screen, a message flashed. Don’t worry.

After the wedding, we move. The money is ours. Jeremy’s chest tightened. He turned the phone toward Anita. Who is Jay? Her silence was deafening. The officers dragged her out, her cries echoing through the hallway. The SUV door slammed shut. Within seconds, the vehicle roared away, leaving behind an empty driveway and a silence so heavy it felt like stone. Jeremy shut the front door slowly, his hand still gripping Anita’s phone.

 He walked back to the living room, eyes burning with unshed tears. His mother reached out her hand. He knelt beside her, burying his face against her lap. “Mama.” His voice cracked. If you hadn’t heard that call, if you hadn’t recorded it, Madame Sarah stroked his hair gently. That is why God kept me alive this long, my son, to protect you. But before Jeremy could answer, his phone rang again.

 This time it wasn’t Anita’s parents or the decorators. It was Barrista Nicholas, his lawyer. Jeremy picked up, voice still shaking. Nicholas, Jeremy, listen carefully. The lawyer’s voice came urgent through the line. I just received news. Anita’s family has filed a lawsuit against you already claiming you abandoned the wedding, humiliated their daughter, and caused emotional trauma.

They’re demanding $1 million in damages. We have to prepare. Jeremy froze. His mother’s hand tightened over his. The battle had just begun. The news spread faster than wildfire. By the next morning, every Nigerian blog, newspaper, and social media platform was flooded with headlines. Billionaire cancels wedding at the last minute. Anita Johnson sues CEO.

 Jeremy for $1 million in damages. Was love a scam? The truth behind the broken engagement. Journalists camped outside Jeremy’s mansion in Ecoy. Cameras flashed each time he stepped out. Microphones were shoved into his face with questions that stabbed like needles. Mr. Jeremy, is it true you dumped Anita because your mother didn’t approve? Sir, is it true Anita was plotting fraud against your company? Is Madame Sarah behind this decision? Does she control your life? Jeremy never answered.

 He walked past them, face tight, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, his mother’s wheelchair rolling beside him as bodyguards cleared the way. Inside the mansion, the air was heavy. Madame Sarah sat by the window, her wrinkled hands folded in her lap.

 Jeremy paced the floor, phone glued to his ear, listening to his lawyer, Barrista Nicholas. They’ve filed in Lagos Federal High Court. Nicholas said, “Anita’s lawyer, Barrista Jude, is arguing for emotional trauma, public humiliation, and breach of trust. They want $1 million as damages.” Jeremy stopped pacing. “And if we don’t pay, they’ll drag you through the mud in court, my friend.

 and they already have the public sympathy. Everyone loves a jilted bride story. They’ll paint you as arrogant, cold, and disrespectful. We need to fight this with facts, not emotion. Jeremy’s jaw clenched. We have facts. Mama recorded her conversation. Anita is not a victim. She’s a predator. Nicholas’s voice lowered.

 Then prepare to prove it in court. Because this won’t be private. It’ll be a national scandal. The day of the hearing came. Lagos Federal High Court was swarming with people, reporters, photographers, curious onlookers. The air buzzed with whispers. Inside the courtroom, the wooden benches were packed.

 On one side sat Anita, dressed in a white lace gown, face pale but powdered, eyes red from crocodile tears. Beside her, her parents, the Johnson’s, sat stiffly. Her father, Mr. Johnson, an upright man with tired eyes, looked like he had aged 10 years in a week. Her mother held her hand tightly, avoiding Jeremy’s gaze. On the other side, sat Jeremy, sharp in a black tailored suit, his lawyer Nicholas, flipping through files.

 Beside him in the front row, Madame Sarah sat in her wheelchair, her green head tie shining like a crown, her eyes steady and unshaken. She did not look at Anita. She stared straight at the judge’s bench. At exactly 10, the court clerk’s voice boomed. All rise for his lordship. Justice Pius Okata.

 Everyone stood as the middle-aged judge entered, adjusting his glasses, his face unreadable. He took his seat, tapped his gavvel, and the trial began. Barrister Jude, Anita’s lawyer, rose first. He was tall, eloquent, and fiery, his words flowing like a preacher’s sermon. My lord, he began, we stand here today because a young woman was disgraced in front of the whole nation.

 Anita Johnson, a bride to be, was abandoned just a day to her wedding. Her dreams were shattered. Her family was humiliated and her reputation was dragged through the mud all because Jeremy, the billionaire CEO, listened to baseless suspicions and unproven claims. He turned dramatically to Anita, who dabbed her eyes with a white handkerchief. Murmurss of sympathy rippled through the crowd.

 This is not just a broken engagement, my lord. This is emotional trauma. This is public ridicule. This is psychological torture. My client deserves justice. And we demand $1 million in damages to restore her dignity and compensate her for the humiliation she suffered. The courtroom buzzed. Journalists scribbled.

 Cameras clicked. Anita sniffed loudly, milking the moment. Jeremy’s fists clenched under the table. His mother reached over and gently patted his arm, steadying him. Then it was Nicholas’s turn. He stood calmly, his voice deep and deliberate. My lord, my learned colleague has spoken passionately, but passion is not truth.

 We are not here to play on emotions. We are here for justice, and justice must rest on facts. F. He paused, letting the silence build. The truth is this. Anita Johnson never loved my client. She sought to marry him only to gain access to his company’s accounts. She planned to steal his fortune, defraud foreign investors, and vanish, leaving him behind bars. “That is not love. That is fraud.

” Gasps erupted. Anita’s mother shook her head violently, whispering, “No, no, not my daughter.” Jude leaped to his feet. “Objection, my lord. These are baseless accusations meant to defame my client.” Nicholas raised a hand. “Baseless? Then let us hear from Anita herself. He turned, picked up a phone, and pressed play. The courtroom fell silent as Anita’s voice filled the air.

 Just 48 hours to our wedding. Calm down. All the plans are in place. I don’t love him one bit. After the wedding, once I have access to his company’s account, I will wipe out everything. I have also perfected all plans to use his company to defraud a foreign investor of $1 million.

 Then I will vanish and he will be behind bars. Let’s see how his overprotective mother will save him. The words echoed like gunshots in the room. Anita’s face drained of color. She shook her head wildly. No, that’s not me. That’s not me. Nicholas stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos.

 My lord, this recording was captured by Madame Sarah, who was present that evening. And to further validate it, we have obtained call logs from the service provider. The evidence is clear. This is not a fabricated story. This is her voice, her plan, her words, and wait is ignored. He handed over stamped documents. The judge adjusted his glasses, scanning the papers carefully. The courtroom exploded into whispers.

Reporters scribbled furiously. Even Mr. Johnson buried his face in his palms, his shoulders shaking. The judge slammed his gavvel. Order. Order. In court. When the noise settled, he turned to Anita. His voice was calm but sharp. Miss Johnson, do you deny this is your voice. Anita stuttered. I I was I was angry.

 It was a joke. Just a joke. The judge’s eyes narrowed. A joke about fraud, about destroying a man’s life. Her silence was answer enough. Justice Okata leaned back in his chair. This court cannot reward deception. The evidence speaks for itself. The case brought by the plaintiff is dismissed. Jeremy’s actions to cancel the wedding were justified.

 Furthermore, any further legal action from the Johnson family will be treated as contempt. Gasps erupted again. Anita’s mother broke into tears. Mr. Johnson stood, walked slowly to Jeremy, and shook his hand with trembling fingers. I am sorry, son. I never knew. Jeremy nodded, tears pricking his eyes.

 Anita, humiliated, covered her face and rushed out of the courtroom, chased by a swarm of journalists. Questions flew. “Anita, was it all a scam? Who is Jay in your messages? Why did you target Jeremy?” She pushed through them, running as fast as her heels would allow. Inside, Jeremy knelt beside his mother, hugging her tightly. Tears finally escaped his eyes. “Mama, you saved me again.

” She smiled weakly, her hand brushing his cheek. That’s what mothers do. The judge stood and left. The crowd began to disperse, buzzing with the scandal of the century. Jeremy and his mother left through a back exit away from cameras. But as they stepped into the waiting car, Jeremy’s phone buzzed again.

 A new message appeared from an unknown number. This is not over. She wasn’t working alone. Jeremy’s blood ran cold. He looked at his mother, who frowned deeply. The war was just beginning. The message blinked on Jeremy’s phone like a curse. This is not over. She wasn’t working alone. Jeremy’s stomach nodded.

 He showed it to his mother in the backseat of the black SUV as the driver pulled away from the court premises. Madame Sarah’s eyes narrowed. My son, this means the girl was just a puppet. Someone else was pulling the strings. Jeremy clenched his jaw, his mind spinning. Jay, he whispered. The message on her phone said, “The money is ours. Jay, who is Jay?” Silence filled the car.

 Outside, Lagos buzzed with traffic, vendors shouted by the roadside, and journalists voices echoed faintly behind them. But inside, it felt like the world had slowed to a crawl. That evening, back in the mansion, Jeremy called an emergency meeting with barrista Nicholas, his closest friend and chief operating officer, Kelvin, and his head of security, Musa. They gathered in the study.

 The lights dim, the marble floor shining under the glow of the chandelier. Nicholas laid out the court documents on the table. We won today, but if someone else is behind this, they will strike again. Jeremy, whoever Jay is, they wanted to use Anita as a weapon. You’re a billionaire CEO. That makes you a target. Olds. Kelvin nodded grimly. We’ve been negotiating with foreign investors lately.

 If someone hacks into our system or stages fraud through your company, it could ruin everything. Musa leaned forward, his face serious. Boss, we need to trace Anita’s phone records. Find out who J Island. With permission, I can get my men to dig deep. Jeremy nodded. Do it. Whatever it costs. I want to know who Jay Island. But Madame Sarah spoke up from her wheelchair.

 Her voice, though gentle, cut through the tension like a blade. Jeremy, remember, wolves do not always come from the forest. Sometimes they come from inside the fold. Don’t just look outside your company. Look inside. The words sent a chill through the room. The next day, Musa’s team traced Anita’s calls and texts. Hours of work boiled down to one shocking discovery.

 The number labeled J was registered to a man named Julius Bameidel. Jeremy froze when he saw the name. Kelvin frowned. Wait, Julius. Isn’t that the new head of finance you hired last year? Yes, Jeremy muttered, his fists tightening. A Harvard graduate. Smart, polished, recommended by big players in the oil industry. I trusted him. Nicholas adjusted his glasses. It makes sense now.

 Anita couldn’t have executed such a complex plan alone. She needed someone on the inside. Someone with access to financial records. Julius had that access. Jeremy slammed his hand on the table. And I brought him in myself. Madam Sarah rolled closer, her voice calm but firm. My son, betrayal often comes dressed in loyalty. Don’t blame yourself.

 Now that you know the snake, cut off its head before it strikes again. Is not wiz. Jeremy nodded. We confront him tomorrow. The following morning, Jeremy walked into his company’s headquarters in Victoria Island with his mother by his side. The office was buzzing as always, secretaries moving files, employees typing away, phones ringing.

 But beneath the usual hum, whispers floated. Everyone had seen the news. Everyone knew about the canceled wedding. Inside the boardroom, Julius was already seated, sharp in a gray suit, his expressions smooth and unreadable. He stood up, offering Jeremy a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Boss, congratulations on winning in court.

That Anita girl, I always suspected she wasn’t genuine. Jeremy stared at him, his silence heavy. Then he threw Anita’s phone onto the glass table. The screen lit up with the incriminating message. The money is ours, Jay. Julius’s mask cracked for just a fraction of a second. His eyes widened, his lips parted.

 But then, almost immediately, he forced a laugh. Boss, this is a setup. You think I wrote that? Someone’s framing me. Jeremy leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous. Don’t lie to me. We traced the number. It’s yours. You plotted with Anita to destroy me. You wanted my company. The room fell silent.

 Madame Sarah’s gaze locked on Julius, sharp and unblinking. Finally, Julius dropped the pretense. His smile turned cold. He leaned back in his chair, adjusting his cufflings slowly. So, what if it’s true? Do you think you built all this alone? You were lucky, Jeremy. Lucky to have foreign investors trust you.

 Lucky to be born with connections. Men like me, men with brains deserve to be at the top. Anita was just the beginning. Jeremy’s chest burned with anger. You call betrayal brains? Julius smirked. I call it survival. Before Jeremy could reply, Madame Sarah spoke, her voice steady. And where has survival without honor ever ended? Julius. Men like you climb fast but fall harder.

 Remember this day because your fall has begun. Julius’s smirk faltered. Jeremy stood, pointing at him. You’re fired. Effective immediately. Security will escort you out. And don’t think this ends here. I’ll make sure the law deals with you. As Moose’s men stepped forward, Julius suddenly shouted, “You’ll regret this, Jeremy.

 You think your mother can protect you forever? The game is bigger than you. You’ll fall, and when you do, no one will catch you.” His words echoed through the boardroom as he was dragged out, his voice breaking into curses. Jeremy sank back into his chair, his heart pounding. His mother rolled closer, resting her hand on his shoulder.

 “You did well, my son, but don’t relax yet. A snake rarely travels alone. If Julius was bold enough to show his hand, then others may already be hiding in the shadows. Jeremy nodded slowly. Then we’ll smoke them out one by one. That night, Jeremy couldn’t sleep. He stood on the balcony of his mansion.

 The city lights stretching endlessly before him. The weight of betrayal pressed on his chest. Anita, Julius, who else was waiting in the dark. His phone buzzed again. A new message appeared from an unknown number. Cut off Julius all you want, but the real game has just started. Tomorrow you’ll see. Jeremy’s heart skipped.

 He turned and through the glass door, he saw his mother in her wheelchair, watching him with quiet concern. He walked inside, knelt beside her, and whispered, “Mama, what if they come for me again? What if they destroy everything we built?” Madame Sarah cuped his face in her wrinkled hands. Her voice was soft but unshakable. Jeremy, listen to me. Your father, Lucas, built this family on honesty. I raised you on sacrifice.

 Everything you are is not luck. It is destiny. The storms may rage, but destiny cannot be stolen. You will fight. You will win. And I will be here praying until my last breath. Jeremy hugged her tightly, tears stinging his eyes. But as he held her, his phone buzzed again. This time it wasn’t a message. It was a video file. He clicked it open and what he saw made his blood run cold.

 It was Julius smiling into the camera, sitting in a dimly lit room. I told you, Jeremy, Julius said in the video. The game is bigger than Anita, bigger than me. Tomorrow, your company will lose everything. Watch closely. The countdown has begun. The video ended with a timer flashing on the screen. 24 0 0 0. Jeremy’s hands shook as he looked at his mother. Mama, he whispered, voice breaking.

 They’re planning something big, and for the first time, Madame Sarah’s calm face faltered. The numbers on the screen glowed like fire. 24 0 0. Jeremy’s hands trembled as the timer ticked down. Mama, they’re planning something big. If this timer reaches zero, my company could be destroyed. Madame Sarah’s eyes darkened with worry.

 She had weathered storms before poverty, widowhood, sacrifice. But this was different. This was war against shadows. “My son,” she whispered. “Whatever this is, we must face it head on. But you will not fight alone.” Jeremy nodded, determination flooding his chest. He dialed Kelvin, his COO, and Musa, his head of security. Within an hour, they were in the mansion study.

 Papers scattered, laptops open, the room lit by the glow of screens. Musa slammed his fist on the table. Boss, if this is cyber related, they could be trying to breach your company’s financial system. We need IT security on this now, Kelvin added. And if Julius is behind this, he won’t act alone. He’ll have allies inside.

 We must scan every transaction, every system, every employee movement. Jeremy looked at Nicholas, his lawyer, who had rushed in straight from his chambers. And legally, Nicholas exhaled. If they plant false evidence and tie it to you, you could be framed for fraud. This isn’t just about your company. It’s about your freedom.

 The room fell silent. Jeremy stared at the ticking timer again. 23 hours left. The next morning, Lagos was alive with chatter. News outlets screamed new headlines. Jeremy’s company under threat. Former finance head Julius Bmadell on the run. Anonymous sources claim billionaire CEO involved in fraud.

 Jeremy stood by the window, his phone buzzing non-stop. Investors called, partners called, friends called. Everyone wanted answers. The whispers of betrayal grew louder by the hour. At noon, Musa stormed into the study with a report. Boss, we found something.

 Julius planted a program in the company’s servers, a worm designed to transfer $1 million to an offshore account by midnight tonight. And guess whose name he coded it under? Jeremy’s blood froze. Mine. Kelvin cursed under his breath. So when the money moves, it looks like you stole it. Nicholas removed his glasses, rubbing his forehead. Jeremy, this is bigger than fraud. If that transfer happens, the EFCC and international investigators will come for you. You’ll be behind bars before sunrise.

 Madame Sarah gripped the armrests of her wheelchair, her face pale but fierce. Then stop it. You must fight for what we built. Don’t let them take it away. Jeremy nodded. His voice was calm, but inside fear and fury clashed. We’re stopping this tonight. By evening, Jeremy and his team camped in the office server room. The place buzzed with humming machines and blinking lights.

 IT experts worked frantically, typing lines of code, sweating as the timer ticked closer to zero. 20 minutes left, one whispered. Boss, Musa said, pointing at the screen. The worm is hidden deep. Every time we shut one door, it opens another. It’s sophisticated like someone knew exactly how our systems run. Jeremy’s fists clenched. Julius, it had to be him.

 But something felt off. Why was the code too familiar? Why did it feel personal? Wait, Jeremy muttered, stepping closer to the screen. Run the access logs. The technician pulled them up. Names scrolled across the screen. Employees, admins, contractors. Then one name stopped Jeremy’s heart. Jeremy’s eyes widened.

 He turned slowly to his COO, the man who had been by his side since the company’s humble beginnings. Kelvin. Kelvin froze. Everyone turned. Musa stepped forward, hand hovering near his holster. “Boss, do you want me to?” Kelvin’s mask cracked. He dropped his pen, his face pale. “Jeremy, listen. Answer me.” Jeremy roared, his voice echoing in the server room. “Why is your name in the logs?” Kelvin swallowed hard.

 “Because because I put Julius there. I introduced him. I opened the door, but it wasn’t supposed to go this far. I thought it was just a side deal, a way to skim off investors. I didn’t know Anita would get involved or that Julius would try to destroy everything. Jeremy’s world tilted. His closest ally, his brother in business. The man he trusted most.

 “You betrayed me,” Jeremy whispered, pain cutting deeper than anger. Kelvin’s voice cracked. “I was drowning, Jeremy. Debts, blackmail.” Julius promised to fix it. I thought I could control it, but now now it’s bigger than me. The timer blinked zero 15 0. Jeremy shook his head slowly, tears stinging his eyes. All those nights, mama, and I prayed for this company. All the sacrifices.

 And you, Madam Sarah’s voice cut through the air, sharp as a knife. My son, anger won’t save us now. Stop the transfer first. Mourn the betrayal later. Jeremy nodded, wiping his face. You’re right, Musa. Secure Kelvin. Don’t let him move an inch. It team. Kill that worm now.

 The room became a battlefield of fingers on keyboards. Codes flashing across screens. Alarms blaring. Sweat dripped from foreheads as seconds bled away. 5 minutes left. Someone muttered. Jeremy hovered behind the lead technician. Status. We’ve isolated the worm, sir, but the kill switch is locked with a password. Jeremy’s veins pounded.

 Password by who? The technician’s voice shook. Kelvin, his clearance. All eyes turned to Kelvin, restrained in the corner. Jeremy walked to him, eyes blazing. The password now. Kelvin shook his head slowly. Even if I give it to you, Julius will come back stronger. You’ll never win this war. Jeremy grabbed him by the collar. The password. Kelvin’s lips trembled.

 He finally whispered. Luca 75. Jeremy froze. his father’s name, his father’s birth year. The realization sank like a stone. Kelvin hadn’t just betrayed him. He had mocked his father’s memory. Type it. Jeremy growled. The technician entered it. The system beeped. The worm froze. The transfer halted. The timer stopped at 0 0 7. The room erupted in cheers.

But Jeremy didn’t cheer. He sank into a chair, trembling. It was over. for now. The following day, Julius was arrested in a hideout in Abuja. Kelvin was handed to the authorities. The conspiracy made headlines across Nigeria. Jeremy was hailed as the man who fought betrayal and won.

 But for Jeremy, victory felt heavy. He had lost people he once trusted. He had seen how greed could rot hearts. Yet through it all, one constant remained, his mother. Months later at a national summit in Abuja, Jeremy met Isabella, a gentle and brilliant accountant. Their connection was instant. For the first time since Anita, Jeremy felt peace. When he introduced Isabella to Madame Sarah, his mother smiled, her eyes shining with tears.

This one, Jeremy, this is the right one. Don’t waste time. And Jeremy didn’t. Two months later, he and Isabella married in a beautiful Lagos ceremony. Madame Sarah sat proudly in her wheelchair at the front row, watching her son take vows with the woman who would stand by him, not betray him.

 Tears rolled down her cheeks, but they were tears of joy. One year later, Isabella gave birth to a baby girl. They named her Sarah after the woman who had given Jeremy everything. As Madame Sarah carried her granddaughter in the garden, the sun warm on her wrinkled face, she whispered, “This was all I prayed for.

 My son safe, my son loved, and a new Sarah to carry on. Jeremy knelt beside her, hugging them both. Mama, you saved me twice. Once when I was a boy, and again, just a day to my wedding. She smiled, her eyes soft, and I would do it a thousand times more. 10 years later, little Sarah grew into a bright young girl.

 Every evening she sat by Mama’s side in the mansion garden, listening to folktales of tortoise and rabbit, of kindness and betrayal. But one morning when Sarah was 11, she ran to greet Mama and found her still, her hands folded on her lap, her head tilted gently. Madame Sarah had slipped away in her sleep, her duty done. The mansion wept that day.

Jeremy buried his mother with honor, knowing her legacy would live on forever. As he stood by her grave holding Isabella’s hand and little Sarah’s, he whispered into the wind, “Mama, you saved me until the very end, and I will never forget.

” The wind rustled through the trees, carrying peace, and though Madame Sarah was gone, her voice remained echoing in Jeremy’s heart forever. What is your view about this story? Where are you watching from? If you enjoyed this story, comment, share, and subscribe to our channel for more interesting stories.