Chapter Twenty-three: Wired Woman
Location; Ilupeju. Time: 2:30 pm.
The warehouse wasn't glamorous. In fact, it stank of rust and old secrets. But it was private, and it was safe. That was all Tammy needed. Rita's apartment has been discovered by the guys and she had to leave there too. She quickly escaped out the back and came here.
She kicked off her slippers, tied her braids into a messy bun, and pulled her laptop closer. Rita had helped her set up a makeshift workstation—a long plastic table, three fan-powered CPU towers she'd borrowed from Anjii's cousin, and one loyal internet modem blinking a stubborn red light. And a small table fan.
"Please," Tammy muttered, tapping the modem. It blinked green. "Thank you."
She rubbed her palms together and cracked her neck like she was about to fight a war—which she was. Just not with fists. She was surrounded by snacks and sweets along with drinks. The only thing she had been taking was sweets. And drinks. Anjii was going to blow when she finds out. She thought and smiled, remembering the problem at hand she frowned.
First, she needed to restore access to the hotel's surveillance system from the night everything spiraled. But the footage had been corrupted. Someone had tampered with it. Sloppy, but still effective. She gritted her teeth.
"I see you," she whispered, pulling up her recovery tools. Her fingers danced across the keyboard.
Code. Data packets. Fragments of video files. It all came flooding back to her like second nature.
The hacker in her came alive.
Hours passed. Rita had left her alone with snacks and drinks, knowing better than to interrupt Tammy when she was locked in. Music played faintly from her phone—Omah Lay's "Soso"—a weirdly appropriate vibe for the paranoia gripping her chest.
Finally, a pixelated video played on the screen.
A shadowy figure. A tray. A drink. A hand that didn't belong to any hotel staff.
Tammy paused the video. Zoomed in.
"Gotcha," she muttered.
It was blurry, but she could see the gold cufflink.
Not Jeremy.
Not her.
Someone had drugged the drinks.
She isolated the frame, ran it through enhancement software, and saved the clip. This was her first real clue.
A WhatsApp message buzzed her phone. Anjii: "Babe, pls eat. You've not moved in 6 hours. If I find out that you haven't had any solid food except for sweets and drinks I will kill you along with Rita. I'm bringing dinner so make sure you eat biscuits or something solid at least."
Tammy sighed, taking a bite of biscuit reluctantly. Her head ached, but she pushed on.
Then she noticed something strange. A hidden IP address buried inside the corrupted code—like someone had wanted to leave breadcrumbs for the right eyes to find.
It led her to an old private server. Password locked.
She grinned.
"Challenge accepted."
Meanwhile, Jeremy, Wale, Zion, and Tobi sat in his living room surrounded by digital noise. Zion tapped at his laptop furiously.
"She's bouncing signals," he muttered. "Girl's using onion routing, masking her IP every ten minutes."
Jeremy clenched his jaw. "So she's active."
"She's working on something. Something big. I just don't know what."
"You still think she's guilty?" Tobi asked, arms folded.
Wale shook his head slowly. "I honestly don't know anymore. She's not hiding like someone guilty. She's hiding like someone planning war."
Jeremy said nothing, but his eyes remained locked on the screen.
"But damn, this girl is good. I thought I was better at this than her. But she could school me. If it doesn't work out between the both of you, I'd like to marry her." Zion said flashing his breathtaking smile and staring at his laptop. Sensing a glare his way he looks up and sees Jeremy giving him a deadly glare. He along with the rest of the guys chuckles while he gets back to work.
Back at the warehouse, Tammy leaned back with a tired smile. The server had cracked open.
Dozens of audio files. Recordings. Chat logs. Voice changers.
Someone had built a blackmail bank.
She clicked on one labeled "NightOp.3am_audio."
Jeremy's voice.
"…This was never supposed to happen. If this leaks, we're finished. Kill everyone that has any idea about any of this. Bribe or silence if killing isn't possible."
Tammy's heart stopped. Jeremy kills people? No way he didn't seem like the type. Was she married to a heartless murderer?. No that can't be possible, she must have heard it wrong.
She listened again. Slower.
No, it wasn't Jeremy. It was his voice, yes—but not his tone.
It had been altered.
A deepfake.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "They're framing him too."
She started dragging files into her evidence folder. Her hands were trembling. This went deeper than her. This was calculated, layered sabotage.
She shut the laptop and stared at the ceiling.
"They wanted me ruined. And now they're coming for him too. Tayo and Tony along with whoever the last bastard was. She was going to find him at all costs."
A knock at the door broke her focus.
It was Rita.
"You look like you've been hit by a bus."
"I've been hit by truth." Tammy stood, wiping her sweaty forehead. "Get me a cold drink. I'm not done."
Rita blinked. "You're not going to rest?"
"Nope." She pulled the laptop closer again. "This is just phase one."
Somewhere across town, Jeremy stared out the window of his penthouse suite.
"Where are you, Tammy?" he whispered resting his head on the glass and remembering her laughter in the house. He couldn't even go there now. It was filled with her presence and he couldn't stand it. 'I must be crazy.' He thought.
'She might have planned all this and here I am falling for her harder each passing day.' He chuckled darkly. He knew that there was no way he'd have had her arrested even if she's guilty. The least he's do was to divorce her quietly. But why did she have to run?
Tammy's fingers flew over the keys.
She was closer than he thought.