The email arrived at 6:13 a.m.
The subject line was simple:
URGENT: RE—SwissShell Financial Files Breach
From: [[email protected]]
Agnes opened it in bed, one hand still wrapped around Majek's arm.
She sat up instantly.
There it was—buried deep in the body of the message:
"We have received an encrypted data dump from a whistleblower identifying a potential offshore holding account opened in 2015 under SMG-Goriola Shell Enterprises, routed through Zurich and Cayman-linked satellites. The implication is significant. Media outlets have already been tipped. Full investigation recommended immediately."
Her blood turned cold.
That was the year her father and Mr. Akins Goriola expanded SMG operations overseas. She had no direct involvement—she was still in business school, barely a shadow in the company.
But now, her name was on every headline.
By 9:00 a.m. – SMG Headquarters
The building buzzed with unease.
Security was tightened. Legal advisors moved in and out of Agnes's office. PR teams huddled in tense war rooms.
Majek arrived just after nine, having read the article splashed across online platforms:
"SMG Conglomerate Tied to International Shell Companies: CEO Agnes Lewis Under Scrutiny."
—Lagos Tribune Business Desk
He found her pacing the floor in silence, her phone buzzing nonstop.
"I had nothing to do with those deals," she said before he could even speak. "It was my father's and Goriola's project. I wasn't even on the payroll."
"I know," he said gently.
"But the optics?" she whispered. "They don't care about the truth. Just the scandal."
Majek stepped toward her.
"You've weathered worse."
"But this isn't just about me anymore," she said. "This is about the company. Our workers. Our interns. The women in the Adebayo Initiative. What if everything I built burns because of something I didn't do?"
Majek cupped her face, firm but soft.
"Then we show them you're not running."
SMG Internal Inquiry – Emergency Session
Agnes sat before the Global Ethics Committee, a panel of internal and external compliance officials. Their faces were guarded. Skeptical.
One man spoke first. British accent, clipped.
"Ms. Lewis, do you deny knowledge of the 2015 shell account setup in Zurich?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "I wasn't an executive. I hadn't even graduated yet."
Another committee member leaned forward. "And yet, your name appears in at least three shareholder communications by Mr. Smith Lewis suggesting you would eventually inherit the Goriola stake."
"I didn't receive a dime from that fund. My legal team has already submitted personal bank audits."
A pause.
Then: "We will need access to your father's private correspondence."
Agnes blinked. "He's not well. Early onset Parkinson's."
"Then we will subpoena."
Back at Agnes's Apartment – That Evening
Agnes slumped into the sofa, exhaustion clinging to her like wet clothes.
Majek sat beside her, silent.
Finally, she broke.
"I don't know if I can win this one."
He looked at her. "Is winning even the point anymore?"
She turned to him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean… sometimes you don't need to fight for approval. You just need to stand for the truth, even if it doesn't save your name."
"And what if the truth burns us both?"
He took her hand.
"Then we walk through fire. Together."
The Next Day – Agnes's Personal Statement (Broadcast Live)
In a surprise move, Agnes held a press conference at the SMG auditorium. The hall was full. Cameras. Reporters. Board members. Investors.
She stepped onto the stage in a simple black blazer and trousers. No script.
Just truth.
"There are things you inherit without asking for. Power. Legacy. Secrets.
I did not open the Zurich account in question. I was not part of SMG's executive body when that transaction occurred. But I am part of its future.
And if that future is to mean anything, we must not bury the past—we must unearth it.
I've authorized a full independent audit. If my name is tied to wrongdoing, I will step down. Not because I am guilty. But because leadership without accountability is tyranny.
This is not about preserving an empire.
It's about earning a legacy."
The room went still.
And then—applause.
Not thunderous.
But real.
Meanwhile – Zurich
An aging banker, Martin Feuchtner, scrolled through his inbox.
One file stood out:
Subject: RE: SMG-Goriola 2015 / Signature Conflicts
It included copies of contract amendments—one marked in handwriting.
Initials: S.L. (Smith Lewis)
Second Initial: L.A.G. (Lami Akins Goriola)
No A.L.
No Agnes Lewis.
It was the proof.
He clicked "Forward."
Subject:
To Agnes Lewis – For Your Defense.
The Court of Public Opinion – One Week Later
The narrative began to shift.
First, The Guardian ran a follow-up:
"Evidence Clears Agnes Lewis from 2015 Zurich Account: Audit Suggests Smith Lewis and Late Akins Goriola Initiated Hidden Partnership."
Then:
"CEO's Transparency Wins Back Investor Confidence: SMG Shares Rebound 11%."
Finally, even her harshest critic, financial analyst Kolade Mebude, tweeted:
"Say what you want about Agnes Lewis, but this is the kind of leadership Nigeria needs. Accountability over pride. Facts over spin."
That Night – Rooftop Celebration
The top floor of SMG shimmered with soft jazz, champagne, and laughter.
It wasn't an official party. Just staff, friends, and loyal allies celebrating what felt like an exhale after months of holding breath.
Agnes stepped onto the balcony alone, looking out over Lagos.
Majek joined her minutes later.
"They believe again," she whispered.
"They never stopped," he said. "Some just needed a reminder."
She turned to him.
"Tell me the truth, Majek. If I had gone down… if everything had burned… would you still have stayed?"
He didn't blink.
"I don't love you because you're powerful."
"Then why?"
"Because when everything fell apart… you stayed kind."
Final Scene – Agnes's Office, One Week Later
The sun streamed through her office windows.
On her desk sat a framed photo—Agnes and Majek on the beach, barefoot, smiling.
She looked up as he entered, a small wrapped box in his hand.
"What's this?" she asked.
He handed it to her.
Inside: a glass sculpture.
Two hands. Holding a flame.
She read the inscription at the base:
"Not all fire burns. Some fire becomes home."
She looked at him. Eyes wet. Heart full.
"I love you, Majek."
He didn't hesitate.
"I always have."