Chapter 21 – Let Them Play
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
After parting ways with Marcus, Smith walked the rest of the way to his apartment in Ladin in silence, the afternoon light stretching long across the pavement. His phone stayed in his hand, thumb hovering over the screen even after he had closed the message. The words refused to fade: "If you ever decide to play against the rules, more dominoes will fall. This was just a warning."
He read it again in the dim staircase, then once more inside his small living room, door locked behind him.
The same unknown number. The same cold tone. Whoever had sent it knew exactly how to hit him and his family... knew the scholarship suspension would matter, knew it would feel personal.
The thought settled like ice under his ribs. This wasn't random guesswork. Someone was watching, timing every move.
He dropped onto the edge of his sofa and stared at the blank wall. Should I tell someone? he thought. But all the answers weren't satisfactory. Tell his family? They would demand details he didn't have. Tell Jenny? She would worry, and he had no answers. Ignore it? The idea felt naïve now. He slipped the phone into his pocket, the weight settling in.
Outside, the streets around Ladin had grown louder. Traffic noise and vendors shouting were muted by the protest that had started on campus, now spilling beyond the university gates and matching along the main avenue below his building. Smith stepped onto his balcony and looked down at the road. Groups of students—fifty, maybe sixty already—moved in restless waves, voices rising in overlapping chants.
Someone had dragged out a makeshift banner: red paint on white cloth that read "SCHOLARSHIP OR CORRUPTION?"
He could hear fragments carried on the wind.
"This is corruption, plain and simple."
"They're stealing scholarship money while we scrape by."
"Why suspend everything without warning? No notice, no appeal... nothing!"
A news van with a satellite dish on top had pulled up at the intersection. A reporter in a crisp blue shirt was already speaking into a camera, gesturing toward the growing crowd. Phones flashed everywhere, stories uploading faster than the administration could respond. The air crackled with something bigger than frustration now... something political. Smith watched for a long minute, noticing some vendors closing early to avoid getting caught in the crossfire, jaw tight, before stepping back inside.
A knock sounded at his door.
Jenny stood in the hallway, two takeaway coffees in hand and a careful smile on her face.
"Hey. Saw you heading this way. Figured you might need caffeine and a break from... all of that." She nodded toward the noise outside.
Smith let her in. The normalcy of her voice felt almost jarring.
"Thanks," he said, taking the cup.
"You hear about the suspension?"
"Everyone has." She perched on the arm of his couch. "My feed is full of it. People are saying the board caved to pressure from somewhere high up." She studied him. "Has your family said anything? They're usually the first to know about funding stuff, right?"
Smith shrugged, the motion too stiff. "Not yet."
Jenny tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "You've been different lately, Smith. Quieter and more distant. Like something is disturbing you and you're debating whether to tell someone or not. Everything alright?"
He forced a half-smile. "Campus is just... intense right now."
She didn't push, but the look she gave him lingered. It was the same look he had given Marcus earlier. The mirror of it unsettled him more than he expected.
Across campus, Marcus stood half-hidden by a cluster of jacaranda trees, arms folded, watching the same crowd that had now begun to spill out toward the gates. Students shouted in tight circles. A girl near the front wiped angry tears while her friend filmed her on a phone. The protest was spreading beyond the university walls now, voices echoing off brick and then fading into the city streets.
Marcus's jaw worked silently. He had given the voice the timing, the access, the document... everything asked. This was supposed to be clean. Expose rot, shift the power. Not this. Not kids losing their only way to stay in school.
He exhaled through his nose, the sound shaky even to his own ears. Remember why you did it, Marcus. There is no backing out now, he thought. The consequences had slipped the leash. He had no way to call them back, only ensuring that his goal was achieved by the end of this chaos.
Later, alone again in his apartment, Smith paced the narrow strip of floor between bed and desk. The image of Marcus in the hallway kept replaying... shoulders tight, eyes scanning every face, smile that never reached his eyes. Since when did Marcus behave like someone doubting every face in the crowd? The question refused to leave. Smith stopped by the window, staring out at the distant protest lights now moving along the avenue below. The doubt he had felt earlier was no longer a seed. It had roots now.
His phone rang.
The screen showed "Dad – Home."
Smith answered on the second ring.
"Smith." His father's voice was clipped, the tone he used for board meetings. "We're calling a private family meeting tonight. Come home. Now. This scholarship situation is moving faster than we expected." Before Smith could reply, the line went dead.
He grabbed his keys and called Hawthorne before leaving the apartment.
At the Wesson family residence, the long mahogany table was set for dinner, but no one was eating. Smith slipped into his usual chair at the far end just as the television flared to life. His father, Theodore, sat at the head, tie loosened, scrolling through his tablet. His mother stood by the sideboard, arms crossed. Two uncles and an aunt filled the remaining chairs, faces grim under the chandelier light. Alexandria, Smith's older sister, sat directly to Theodore's right, Isabel next to her, fingers drumming the table.
The large television was tuned to Nairobi News Network, NNN for short. The anchor's voice filled the room:
"Breaking news. Tonight... Wesson University officials have confirmed the launch of a full financial investigation following the abrupt suspension of all merit and need-based scholarships. Sources inside the administration describe the move as 'unprecedented' and are calling for immediate transparency. Protests continue on campus as students demand answers."
A red banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen: UNIVERSITY FINANCIAL INVESTIGATION BEGINS.
Theodore set his tablet down hard. "This is no longer contained. The consequences are escalating faster than we planned."
Alexandria leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Father, we can't sit here and watch. The anger is boiling over out there. We should act... now. Shift their fury somewhere useful. Once the mass focus is redirected, the investigation can be stopped. We have those incriminating files on our rivals from the Johnson family: the endowment leaks, the donor bribes, the offshore accounts. Leak them tonight. Let the mob tear into our enemies instead of circling. We will be hitting two birds with one stone, we can even take over Mombasa if they fall. One push and the investigation goes off-course."
She turned to the rest of the table. "We've waited long enough. The board is panicking. This is our moment to move."
Theodore raised a hand, calm but final. "Not yet, Alexandria. Let them play a little longer. The protests, the reporters, the noise... let it build. Chaos is useful while it stays unfocused. We pull the trigger too soon and we lose the advantage."
A heavy silence settled. Then one of the uncles cleared his throat. "The suspension is already hurting the business. Our construction contracts for the new engineering wing were tied to the old funding model. Donors are pulling back, and the board is stalling payments. If this drags another week, we lose the Nairobi real-estate partnership we've been lining up for six months."
Another aunt nodded. "And the education-tech investments. The university was supposed to be our client for the new learning rollout. Parents are calling, threatening to cancel. Public pressure like this... it makes our partners nervous."
Theodore's gaze swept the table, noting how tight and tense the family seemed. His gaze landed briefly on Smith before moving on. "The effects are temporary. We built the leverage for exactly this kind of pressure. The investigation will stall once the right documents surface... at the right time. Until then, we watch. We wait. And we keep our mouths shut."
No one argued. The only sound was the low hum of the news continuing to roll, the red banner still crawling across the screen.
Smith sat motionless at the far end of the table, the warning message burning in his pocket and the conversation echoing in his ears. Signing the document now felt like a restrictive chain rather than the freedom he hoped for.