Chapter 19: Broken Patterns
The house hadn't changed.
Same beige walls, same faint smell of disinfectant and camphor oil, same carefully folded lace curtains hanging in the parlour window. But something was off. Tammy could feel it the moment her feet crossed the threshold. There was no warmth in her father's hug—if it could even be called that. More like a stiff tap on the back, the kind reserved for acquaintances at weddings. Her mother barely glanced up from the tray of peeled oranges she was cutting in the kitchen. She didn't say a word.
Tammy's heart thudded in her chest as she sat, crossing her legs tightly like she was back in secondary school being scolded for sneaking out of prep. She knew something was coming, and it wasn't going to be good.
Her father cleared his throat. "How is... married life?"
Tammy forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "It's fine. Quiet."
"Mmh." He adjusted his glasses and leaned forward. "I ran into your uncle at church last Sunday. He said Tayo came to visit them last week."
Her stomach dropped. "Oh."
"She mentioned… something interesting."
Tammy didn't blink. "What did she say?"
He tilted his head, studying her face like he was trying to catch her in a lie she hadn't even told yet. "She said this whole scandal wasn't as sudden as you made it seem. That you'd been… seeing someone else. Behind Kunle's back."
Tammy's blood turned to ice. Tayo was laying groundwork. She was rewriting the story, just enough to muddy the timeline—to make it seem like Tammy had been cheating all along.
"I wasn't," Tammy said softly, but the words felt useless. Flat.
Her father gave a noncommittal nod, but she caught the flicker in his eyes. Doubt.
And then—silence.
Not the cold silence of tension, but the thick, oppressive kind. Her mother still hadn't spoken. She didn't even meet her eyes. Just kept slicing the oranges, slow and deliberate, as if each fruit was a metaphor she was trying to work out.
"You know we raised you better than this," her father said finally.
"I know," Tammy whispered, her voice almost breaking.
But she didn't explain. Couldn't. The NDA was still in place. And even if it wasn't—who would believe her? That she'd been drugged? That Jeremy had too? That it was all orchestrated by her own sister and his business partner, two people who didn't even know they were working toward the same destruction? She just needed all the evidence to prove to her parents.
It would hurt them that their children were fighting against each other.
She got up quickly. "I just came to check on you."
"We're fine," he said. "But make sure your conscience is too."
She left before her legs could give out. Her hands trembled as she unlocked the gate, stepped into the sunlight, and breathed—deeply, harshly, like she'd been suffocating the entire time inside.
**
Back at the penthouse, Jeremy was in the office, his jaw tight as he clicked through a document on his screen. The golden light of late afternoon poured through the large windows, casting streaks on his desk, but his expression was as stormy as ever.
"Your parents?" he asked without looking up.
Tammy dropped her bag on the sofa, shrugging off her jacket. "Tayo's already spinning a new story."
He blinked. "What?"
"She told them I had a secret boyfriend. Before Kunle. Implying it was you."
Jeremy finally looked at her. "So they think we were…?"
"They think I'm a cheat. A liar. And my mum didn't even defend me. She just sliced oranges like I was a stranger."
Jeremy rubbed his forehead. "This is bad."
"No kidding."
There was a long pause. Then he pushed his laptop aside.
"Zion's working on an exit strategy."
Tammy's brows furrowed. "An exit?"
"In case we need to... untangle this without burning the whole place down," he said, his voice low. "If it becomes unbearable for you. Or if the public narrative shifts too far."
Tammy sat down. "An exit as in… annulment?"
Jeremy didn't say anything. That was answer enough.
She bit the inside of her cheek, blinking hard. "Of course. You'd want to protect your name."
His jaw clenched. "I'm trying to protect both of us. Besides the marriage would have ended sooner or later because of the contract."
"By planning your escape? You just want the marriage to end and not feel bad cause it would look like my fault!" She said as she stood up.
"No that's not what I wanted to do. It's called yhaving a backup plan." He stood up too,pacing. "You don't know how this world works, Tammy. If the wrong narrative sticks, your name won't just be ruined—it'll be erased. And mine? I'll be fighting board members and media wolves for the next ten years."
"I'm not asking you to fight for me."
"Good," he snapped. "Because that's not what this is."
Tammy flinched. The silence that followed was sharp, acidic. She turned her face away, blinking fast as something ugly coiled in her chest.
"Whatever," she muttered, rising.
He grabbed her wrist. "Tammy."
She paused.
"I'm not... running. I just don't want you to get destroyed in a war you didn't start. And I hope you're innocent in all of this."
She didn't look at him. "Let go."
He did.
She stormed to the bedroom. Locked the door. Sank to the floor.
And cried.
**
Hours later, long after the house fell into quiet again, Tammy sat with her back against the headboard. She reached for her tablet, heart still sore, fingers jittery.
She'd been staring at that damn laptop for days now, waiting for some divine crack to open it up. Thinking of how to crack it. She was a boss in hacking and all but she was too distracted to see how to do it right now. But maybe she was thinking too narrowly. Maybe the answer wasn't in brute force—but in tracing the digital breadcrumbs they left behind.
She pulled up her old encrypted drive—one she hadn't used in years. Tammy the Coder was back. The girl who built firewalls like forts. Who used to win underground password battles for sport.
She ran a diagnostic.
And that's when she saw it.
A ping.
One of her old emails—one she hadn't touched in nearly a year—had gone active.
At 3:47 AM last night.
Her pulse quickened. She tapped into it, tried to access from a mirror point, but the server rejected the handshake instantly.
Access Denied.
Then the screen glitched.
Too many attempts. Account locked.
Someone had tried to get in. Or already had.
And not just anyone. Whoever had accessed it, knew her patterns. Her coding. Her signatures. This wasn't a random hacker—it was someone who knew her work. Knew her style.
Tammy stared at the blinking cursor.
Her chest tightened.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.
And someone—maybe even someone she trusted—was already three steps ahead.
And she knew it was Tayo. Just there was someone else besides Tayo and Jere's business partner.