He did.
“You already made your choice,” she said.
Mustafa slowly shook his head.
“No.”
Kunle raised an eyebrow.
“No?” he repeated.
“I’m not lying,” Mustafa said, stronger now. “I saw what you did.”
Silence tightened the room.
Kunle’s smile faded.
“Truth can be dangerous,” he said softly.
“Are you threatening him?” Zainab demanded.
“I’m advising him.”
Then he looked toward the hospital bed.
“My uncle will be handled by the family now.”
“No,” Zainab said.
Kunle paused.
“He stays under medical care,” she said. “Not under your control.”
A flicker of darkness crossed Kunle’s face.
“You’re overstepping.”
“I’m doing my job.”
Before Kunle could answer, a sound came from the bed.
Chief Oladipo’s fingers moved.
His eyes fluttered open.
Mustafa gasped.
“He’s awake.”
Zainab rushed to him.
“Mr. Bologan, can you hear me?”
Kunle stepped closer.
“Uncle, it’s me. You’re safe.”
But Chief Oladipo’s eyes found Kunle, and fear crossed his face.
“No,” he whispered.
Kunle stiffened.
“You’re confused.”
Chief Oladipo shook his head weakly.
“No.”
His trembling hand lifted and pointed.
At Kunle.
“They tried…” he whispered.
The room went completely still.
Those two words carried more weight than any scream.
A senior hospital administrator arrived with security.
“What is going on?”
“Attempted murder,” Zainab said.
The administrator stepped to Chief Oladipo.
“Sir, can you tell us what happened?”
Chief Oladipo struggled, then whispered again.
“He tried.”
The administrator turned pale.
“We need to involve the authorities.”
Kunle’s smile disappeared.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I’m afraid it is,” the administrator said.
He turned to a staff member.
“Call the police.”
Kunle looked at Mustafa, cold and silent, then walked out.
But the truth had been spoken.
And it could not be buried again.
By morning, the hospital had changed. Police officers moved through the halls. Staff whispered. Board members from Bologan Group arrived, faces tense with fear and calculation.
Mustafa sat quietly outside the emergency ward until an officer approached him.
“What’s your name?”
“Mustafa.”
“Can you tell me what you saw?”
Mustafa swallowed.
Then he told everything.
The rain. The digging. The grave. Kunle. The escape. The rescue.
His voice trembled, but he did not stop.
When he finished, the officer nodded.
“Thank you.”
Soon after, investigators confirmed the forest site. Fresh digging. Signs of struggle. Evidence.
Chief Oladipo survived the night.
Later, in a guarded hospital room, he woke fully enough to speak. The police, doctors, and board members gathered.
Madame Bisi Adebowale, vice chair of Bologan Group, stood near his bed.
“Sir,” she asked gently, “can you tell us what happened?”
Chief Oladipo’s voice was weak but clear.
“They tried to kill me.”
A ripple moved through the room.
Madame Bisi turned to Kunle, who had returned with lawyers and officers watching him closely.
“Do you have anything to say?”
Kunle remained calm.
“My uncle is recovering from trauma. His memory is unreliable.”
One officer stepped forward.
“We also have a witness.”
Mustafa felt Zainab’s hand on his shoulder.
“You don’t have to,” she whispered.
He shook his head.
