Chapter Fourteen: Kingdoms and Kingslayers

The storm hadn't passed.

In fact, it had only just begun.

Three days after Kenan's capture, Obinna's name trended globally for all the wrong reasons.

Leaked screenshots from Kenan's backup servers spread like wildfire—obscure wire transfers, cryptic receipts, and correspondence with faceless offshore entities that dated back to 2019.

Headlines exploded across digital and televised media:

"Echelon CEO Linked to Rigged Nigerian Elections?"

"Billionaire's Secret Political Web Exposed"

"Obinna Nwosu: Innovator or Kingmaker?"

Echelon's stock value dropped 12% overnight.

Partnerships began "reassessing commitments."

And worst of all, government officials sent word.

There would be an investigation.

Amaka stood in Echelon Tower's legal boardroom, surrounded by advisors, lawyers, and press reps. She wore black—sharp, clean lines, hair pulled back in a knot that did nothing to soften the defiance in her eyes.

"…we have two options," the lead attorney said, flipping through a thick packet of damage control strategies. "We either deny everything, blame Kenan for data manipulation, and tie it to his cybercrime record…"

"Or?" she asked.

"Or," he said, lowering his voice, "we distance Obinna from the company immediately. Let the board suspend him. Let you take interim control. The public sees a female leader stepping in to clean up corruption. The stock will stabilize."

Amaka laughed once—short, bitter.

"Throw the man under the bus to save the machine?"

The lawyer didn't blink. "That's what machines are for."

She looked out the window. Below, protesters were already forming. Some held signs that read TECH NOT TRICKS, others AMAKA FOR CEO.

She turned to the room.

"Give me an hour," she said.

In the hospital room, Obinna sat up against a mountain of pillows, pale but alert. His bandaged shoulder made him look less like a king, more like a man who had fought dragons and come back barely breathing.

Amaka entered quietly.

"I heard," he said. "The board wants my head."

"They want your head packaged," she replied. "As proof that Echelon's blood is still clean."

Obinna looked away. "Do it."

She flinched. "What?"

"Take over. Distance yourself from me. You've earned your place there. You built half this empire already. Don't let them burn you with me."

"No," she said sharply. "I won't."

His jaw tightened. "Amaka—"

"You listen to me," she said, voice trembling. "You made mistakes. I won't deny that. But these documents—those transfers—they weren't yours. Kenan forged them. Or worse, used your identity. And I'm going to prove it."

Obinna looked at her like she was the only steady thing in a crumbling world.

"You'd risk everything for me?"

She took his hand.

"I already did. And I'd do it again."

He smiled faintly. "Then let's clean the blood off the crown."

That evening, Amaka returned to Echelon and called an emergency press conference.

She stood alone behind the podium in a royal blue suit.

Flanked by screens displaying security footage, Kenan's confession clips, and traced email headers proving forgery, she spoke to the nation.

"I stand here today not just as a woman or a leader—but as someone who knows what it means to be targeted for refusing to play the game the way men like Kenan demand."

She paused.

"My name is Amaka Ifeoma. I am not a puppet. I am not a cover-up. I am the storm they didn't predict."

A pause.

"And Obinna Nwosu is not the villain. He is the victim of a calculated political framing designed to destabilize our company, our innovation, and the very idea that power can be earned without corruption."

The press exploded.

By midnight, her speech had gone viral.

#IStandWithAmaka trended in six countries.

But behind the scenes, things were not so clean.

Kunle entered her office shortly after the broadcast. His face was drawn.

"We have a problem," he said.

Amaka looked up from her desk. "What now?"

"There's someone in the political class who wants this to go away. Quietly. Which means they want Obinna to go away too."

She stood, chilled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Kunle said grimly, "they're offering a deal. Obinna steps down from Echelon permanently, leaves the country for a while—maybe years—and all investigations vanish. No arrest. No trial. But no return."

Her throat closed.

"And if he refuses?"

"Then they bury him. With or without proof."

Amaka's mind spun.

Obinna out of Echelon?

Obinna out of her life?

The door opened.

Obinna stood there, dressed for the first time since the incident. Simple linen shirt. Slacks. Not a trace of the CEO polish he usually wore.

"I heard," he said quietly.

Amaka turned to him, voice cracking. "You can't take this deal."

He stepped forward.

"And if I don't… they destroy you, too."

"I don't care."

"You should."

He cupped her face.

"I won't be the reason they silence you."

"And I won't let them erase you," she whispered.

Silence filled the space between their breaths.

Then Obinna stepped back.

"If I'm going to disappear," he said slowly, "then you're going to need something stronger than truth."

"What?"

"Proof. From the inside."

He slid a flash drive onto the table.

"What is this?"

"The real Zenetek records. The ones even Kenan never found. They show who really betrayed who. Who profited. Who sold what."

Amaka's hands trembled as she picked it up.

"This changes everything," she whispered.

"Yes," he said. "But it changes you, too."

That night, while Lagos slept, Amaka made a call to a journalist she once refused to trust.

Then she sat by the window of the penthouse, holding the flash drive like it was a detonator.

Because it was.

If she released it, she could clear Obinna.

But it would expose powerful politicians tied to the early tech sector scandal. People who would come for her next.

She could be next.

She could lose everything.

She closed her eyes.

And clicked Send.