Two months had passed since Eniola left the country, and Aduni had begun to question her own thoughts.
At first, it felt like a simple escape a temporary arrangement, one that was best for everyone involved. But now, with the silence that stretched between her and her brother's household, she couldn't help but wonder. Did Gbenga really want them to leave? Was this all part of his plan to rid himself of his family without anyone questioning it?
She didn't have time to dwell on it.
The knock on her door came suddenly, startling her. The moment she opened it, her heart sank. Two uniformed police officers stood there, their faces unreadable. Behind them, a somber-faced officer held a file in his hand.
"Are you Aduni Oguntoyinbo ?" the officer asked, his voice firm.
"Yes," she answered, narrowing her eyes. "What's this about?"
"We need to ask you some questions. It's in connection with the disappearance of Eniola Oguntoyinbo and her children. You were the last person to see them."
Aduni's pulse quickened. The statement hit her like a punch, but she quickly masked her surprise with indifference.
"I've already told the police everything I know," she replied, her voice steady. "Eniola came to visit me a few weeks ago, and after that, she left on her own accord. That's it. I'm not sure what else you expect from me."
The officer hesitated for a moment, as if considering how best to approach her. Then he spoke again. "There are allegations that you might have played a role in their disappearance. Your brother seems to believe you were involved."
Aduni's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Oh? Gbenga has said a lot of things, hasn't he?" she said, her tone light. "But I assure you, I did nothing. I'm not responsible for his wife and kids leaving."
As expected, the police didn't press her further.
They just seemed tired, exhausted by the constant back-and-forth that was now part of their daily routine. Aduni wasn't worried; she had everything covered. She reached for her phone and immediately dialed her lawyer.
"You've got everything I sent you, right?" she asked, as the lawyer answered.
"Of course," he replied. "I'm ready to defend you if anything goes south."
"I'll tell them the truth," Aduni said calmly, her voice level, "but I'm also prepared for whatever they might throw at me. I've been through worse."
The police stood there in silence as Aduni set the phone down and addressed them once more. "I did admit that Eniola visited me weeks ago. After that, she left on her own. I didn't stop her. She was free to leave."
Gbenga's voice echoed in her head, enraged and accusatory. She knew exactly how this conversation would go.
"How could they just disappear like that?" Gbenga's voice rang out from a distance, loud and hostile. "You must have done something to them. How do they just vanish? It's not normal."
Aduni knew better than to take his accusations seriously. The police might not care enough to do an in-depth investigation, and frankly, that worked to her advantage. The Nigerian police force had a habit of getting lazy when the case wasn't high-profile enough, and she counted on that.
"Well," she said, trying to keep the situation from escalating, "Eniola called me once from an unknown number. I wasn't able to tell Gbenga who it was, though. He was rude and insulting over the phone, so I didn't bother to share it. You might want to check the number, though. It could lead to something useful."
The police officer raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number, placing it on speaker. The phone rang for a few seconds before the voice of Eniola filled the room.
"Hello?" Eniola's voice was shaky, but it was unmistakable. "This is Eniola Oguntoyinbo, I had to leave, and I don't know how to explain it... but I had no choice. My husband, Gbenga, is a wicked man. He's a polygamist, and he's brutal. He caused the miscarriage of my male twins. I couldn't stay there any longer. I had to leave for my own safety."
The officers exchanged surprised looks, the gravity of the situation settling in. Eniola's voice trembled as she continued. "I was traumatized. And then I found out he was married to another woman, secretly, in Akure. I couldn't stay. It would have been suicidal. I used the money I had saved up to leave the country. I just wanted a better life for myself and my kids."
Aduni felt a strange satisfaction in hearing Eniola's confession. The weight of the truth hung heavily in the air, and for the first time, Gbenga was silent. The truth, as much as it stung, was now out there.
"I was planning to charge him for emotional and physical abuse, but I had to leave before I could do that," Eniola finished. "I just hope my kids have a better life."
The officer hung up the phone, his expression hardening. "That's a serious accusation, and we'll be investigating this further."
Eniola's words left Gbenga stunned and ashamed, but he quickly regained his composure, his anger now shifting focus. "It's all your fault, Aduni," he snapped, his voice venomous. "You blackmailed me for three million naira! You tricked me into giving it to you, and now you're making me look like a criminal!"
Aduni smiled, her face impassive. "You're right, Gbenga. I did ask for money. But only because you were making my sister-in-law's life a living hell. I'm not sorry about that. You deserve to be exposed."
The police, finally fed up with Gbenga's outbursts, stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Enough," one officer said, his voice stern. "You're not going to get custody of the kids. If you try again, we'll have more to say about it. And as for you… well, you've got your own problems now."
They struck him across the head with their baton, a harsh reminder that they had had enough of his theatrics. Gbenga winced, but his anger didn't subside. He looked at Aduni with burning hatred in his eyes, his fists clenched in fury.
The scene unfolded like a well-rehearsed play, and Aduni couldn't help but feel a dark satisfaction. It wasn't over but it was a victory nonetheless. Gbenga had been exposed. His life, once built on lies and manipulation, was crumbling before him.
A few days later, Abel and Tade arrived at her office. Abel was the first to speak, his voice slightly hesitant. "Aduni, I wanted to apologize for the dinner. The whole thing was a mess, and I should have handled it differently."
Aduni raised an eyebrow, her sarcasm cutting through the air. "Oh, no problem, Abel. It was a wonderful evening. You know, if you ever need wedding planning advice, I'd be more than happy to help you. I have a lot of experience in the field."
Tade shot her a sideways glance, but Abel didn't seem to pick up on the sarcasm. He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the conversation was too much for him.
"Aduni," he said, his tone serious now, "I've been thinking a lot. I wasn't honest with myself before. The truth is, I don't see a future with Suzan. I never did. I've been waiting for you."
Aduni froze, her breath catching in her throat. Tade's eyes flickered between them, clearly just as stunned as she was.
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.
Aduni's face remained unreadable, her expression a mask of calm.
"Well," she said finally, the words sharp and pointed, "It's nice to know I've been the backup plan all along. Really, Abel. That's so charming. And Tade, you're still playing the nice guy in the background, huh? I'm sure the two of you make a perfect team."
The sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable, and Tade looked away uncomfortably. Abel's face reddened, clearly flustered.
Aduni leaned back in her chair, her gaze cold. "You know what, Abel? You can have your happy ending with Suzan. But don't expect me to pick up the pieces when it all falls apart. I've seen enough drama for a lifetime."
Tade looked at her, unsure of how to respond. The words lingered in the air like a thick fog.
Aduni couldn't help but laugh again a bitter, hollow laugh that seemed to echo in the room.
And for a moment, it felt like the world had finally caught up with her.