"It has been many days, Ali Wali," said Ali Wali as he pulled his hand away, before turning around to add, "Not right now. Wait a while and everything will become illuminated. There will be a clap of thunder, and the flash of lightning will expose the hypocrites hiding within the dark tall grass." Hon. Maɗatai simply offered a subtle smile, uttering, "May Allah witness it and bring us to that day." They all exchanged formal greetings, except for Daddy; between him and the others, there were only silent prayers as he stood up to leave the gathering. After offering his condolences, Hon. Maɗatai said, "May Allah grant Ashraf eternal mercy and limit his misfortunes to this." Sharfaɗi turned his gaze to Hon. Maɗatai, then looked at Eng. Ali Wali, and remarked, "Amen. Now, isn't it beautiful to witness politics being played without deep-seated malice? That way, there is greater peace of mind and mental tranquility. Whoever is destined to secure this political seat, the Almighty has already decreed it in writing; right now, everyone is merely groping around in the dark. You should unite, join hands, and let everyone run their respective campaigns. The ultimate joy is that you do not even belong to the same political party." Nodding his head in agreement, Hon. Maɗatai smiled. He inherently had no issues with Eng. Ali Wali; it was Wali's erratic outbursts that concerned him, and his current focus was entirely on the man who had remained silent. That particular silence, to him, represented a massive, looming threat. "Politics will never cause a Muslim like me to fight with another. We have witnessed yesterday, we see today, and we are certain we shall see a beautiful tomorrow. My absolute hope is to secure a slot to invest in your multi-national firm, if I am granted the opportunity. That alone would mean the world to me, Sharfaɗi." While listening to them, Daddy's phone rang. He quickly stood up, excusing himself to leave, while Eng. Ali Wali's eyes followed him out. In the dead of night, Fiyya woke up to an excruciating migraine localized on one side of her head. Unable to open her eyes, she slowly reached up and clasped her head in her hands. Despite her agonizing state, she did not forget to recite her awakening prayers, purely to reassure herself that she hadn't woken up inside a grave. "Take heart, Maama," was all Ummi could say, silently offering praises to Allah in her heart because the silence had lasted far too long. She tightly squeezed Fiyya's hand. "Ummi, my head hurts. I feel a piercing pain on one side of my head," Fiyya whimpered, her body physically trembling from the intensity of the pain. Ummi consoled her, "Maama, it will stop, Insha Allah. Let us call the doctor." "Ummi, where is Daddy?" "He just stepped out. Keep reciting your prayers; everything that has a beginning has an end. This headache will fade away one day. Open your eyes and look at me." She slowly pried her eyelids open, and seeing how bloodshot they were, Ummi exclaimed, "Subhanallah! Is this intense redness from the medication, or what is causing it?" "Ummi, the prolonged duration she spent lying down with that headache is exactly why her eyes are so bloodshot right now. Once Daddy walks in, Fiyya will feel much better. Rest your mind." At that exact moment, Daddy pushed the door open and walked in, with J and Dr. Hash following closely behind him. Seeing them instantly caused everything to flood back into Fiyya’s memory; she squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of intense panic washed over her. "Is it truly true that Ashraf is dead, Daddy? Is it true that Ashraf has been buried, that there is no more Ashraf, and that he is dead? As we speak, is the man I was supposed to marry on my wedding day currently lying inside a grave? Daddy, I am utterly ruined!" Daddy gently and reassuringly took hold of Fiyya’s hand and said: "No, you are not ruined at all. It is entirely possible that he has simply crossed his designated earthly boundary. Death is entirely in the hands of the Almighty; when the appointed time arrives, through whatever means, that soul must return to the One who created it. Maama, it is a reality that the man you were destined to marry has passed away. Rest your heart, pray for him, embrace absolute peace, and accept that he was neither your ultimate destiny nor the source of your greater blessings. The Almighty executes everything at His own decreed time, and no one can question His divine reasoning, for He is all-sufficient. Recite your prayers, Safiyyerh. Ashraf is no longer alive. Pray for him." Fiyya turned and locked her wide, tear-filled eyes onto Daddy. With immense difficulty, she managed to say, "Ashraf died and left me in absolute, terrifying suspense, Daddy. If only our marriage had been solemnized long before now! Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un, woe unto me, Safiyyerh!" "Suspense over what, Safiyyerh? You have witnessed so many monumental trials in your life; why should Ashraf's death break your stride? Will you not pray and grant your heart absolute closure? Besides, a denial from Allah is ultimately a hidden blessing. Just as it is known today that your marriage to Ashraf was not divinely decreed by Allah, His promise remains absolute truth—the marital tie of another man has already legally descended upon you, Maama." She fell silent, fully realizing that Daddy would never truly understand her, nor would he comprehend what she truly meant. She missed Ashraf deeply before they had even begun their life together; she intensely wished that the Almighty had taken her life instead and spared Ashraf, even if he had never married her. No doubt, through him, someone could have uncovered what lay hidden, but now death had snatched him away, leaving her stranded in a maze of profound anxiety without leaving behind a single clue for her to unravel anything. "Daddy, why did you arrange my marriage to Ashraf in the very first place?" Daddy looked at Fiyya with a deeply calming demeanor and replied, "Because he was entirely worthy and deserving, Maama. Silence these thoughts; it is merely the searing pain of grief making you utter these words, like a sudden downpour of rain. Pray." She nodded slowly, gently withdrawing her hand from his. With her eyes closed, she exhaled heavy sighs without uttering another word, turning over to lie down as Ashraf’s parting words continuously echoed in her mind. Within her soul, she continuously prayed for him. She had never known he was suffering from an ailment; he had never once disclosed to her that he was sick, Innalillahi. The doctor walked into the room, preparing to speak, but Daddy quickly shook his head, signaling him not to say anything critical aloud. The doctor fixed his gaze on Safiyyerh and said, "She will be discharged today, just as you requested since you don't want an overnight stay. I will administer an injection to her, but before that..." "Thank you, Doctor." Dr. Hash stood up and said, "Daddy, I must head to the hospital; I am on the night shift. Awais will drop me off. I am not feeling well." Ummi interjected, "You are not feeling well, yet you are heading out as if it's mandatory for you to pull an all-nighter? Can't an excuse be taken?" He offered a faint, polite smile and replied, "Ummi, it is impossible for me to accept wages and refuse to work; the Almighty would surely hold me accountable for that duty. Pray for me, I can manage it." She replied, "May Allah grant relief, grant you success, and protect you." "Amen, Ummi." The doctor administered the injection to Fiyya, and she plunged into a deep, heavy sleep. Ummi kept her gaze fixed on Daddy as she listened to him call Aliyu, instructing him to arrive and pick Fiyya up in twenty minutes, while Daddy would depart alongside Ummi. Up until this very moment, Aliyu was completely oblivious to the marriage arrangement, just as Fiyya had failed to take Daddy's previous statements seriously. He adjusted her bedding, stood up, and Ummi followed suit, gently stroking Safiyyerh’s head before they both exited the room. Until around 1:30 AM, Fiyya remained fast asleep, with a nurse checking in on her periodically. He stood there, both hands deeply buried in his pockets. He couldn't quite articulate what was racing through his mind, but his gaze was entirely locked onto her face, observing how even in her deep sleep, her brow remained furrowed as she let out heavy sighs. The door clicked open, and he quickly took a step back, completely masking his facial expression. The doctor looked at the Captain and remarked, "Only now? I genuinely assumed she would be spending the entire night here." Aliyu remained silent, pulling out his phone and tapping away on the screen. "Here are her statements; this will be utilized when the time comes..." "Call them and explain it to them," Aliyu muttered. He stood there contemplating how best to wake her up, as Daddy’s persistent calls were the sole reason he had even bothered to show up. He extended his foot and nudged the edge of the bed. The doctor remarked, "The injection administered to her is incredibly potent; your only option is to physically carry her." Aliyu let out a sharp, subtle hiss and snapped, "Fine, then you carry her." Seeing the deadpan, serious expression on Aliyu's face, the doctor approached Fiyya to lift her and carry her outside. Before he could even reach her, Captain intervened, sweeping her up along with her IV drip and her wrap. She jolted slightly, instinctively gripping onto him. If his ears weren't deceiving him, he thought he heard her mumble, "TAHHB." He placed her into the front passenger seat of his car, reclined the seat back, and drove off at a breakneck speed, looking like a man being actively pursued. He remained crouched, fixing his bloodshot, deeply sunken eyes—a clear indication of heavy intoxication—intently upon the man. His hand tightly gripped a razor blade, while right beside him stood his massive, towering dog, Tiger, who was his absolute favorite among all his trained hounds. He pressed the razor deep into the man’s thigh, slicing downward. Blood began to spurt out profusely, causing the man to let out blood-curdling screams and wails in the absolute pitch-black darkness of the night. The man cried out, "Why do you possess absolutely no mercy? Are you trying to slice my thigh clean in two?!" Despite his heavily intoxicated state, Moh's eyes flew wide open. In a voice that instantly conveyed he was a man of few words, carrying a low, gravelly resonance akin to the deep growl of a lion, he demanded: "Do you recognize me now?" The man nodded frantically, letting out ragged, desperate gasps that sounded like a death rattle. "I recognize you, I recognize you! By Allah, I recognize you!" "Good," Moh muttered. He plunged the razor even deeper. Blood sprayed out. Suddenly, a scorpion dropped and scurried directly into the man’s trousers. Moh remarked, "When my forced marital union—meaning my wedding—took place, and I arrived, you were the one spotted directly at the entrance of my residence. Is that correct?" He demanded, tossing yet another pitch-black, menacing scorpion directly into the man’s trousers. Darma and Goje held him pinned down, each crushing one of his hands underfoot. The man remained mute, which only served to enrage Moh even further. "When I am pushed to a headache, I descend into absolute madness, and you will not enjoy the outcome. I am ravenous. Speak!" Teetering on the brink of death and choking on his own breath, the man gasped, "I will speak, I will speak!" They finally released their grip, standing back to watch him. "Two distinct groups of people breached the area on the exact night she was brought here. The first group handed me a large sum of money, their faces completely masked. The second group arrived later and handed me even more money; their faces were also entirely masked, but they left behind a specific message to be delivered to you since that time. After your arrest, I had absolutely no idea who to deliver it to, so I wandered aimlessly before ultimately giving up. Much later, others arrived and demanded that I hand over that very message. I initially refused, but they lavished me with wealth, handing me a staggering sum of one million Naira. Given the crushing poverty and starvation we face in this land, and with a family dependent on me, I simply capitulated and handed it over to him." Darma interjected, "Look at you! You wretched inhabitants of this region will never find peace in this life, and you will barely taste the waters of paradise." Moh fixed his piercing, bloodshot eyes on the man, then stood up straight. He attempted to speak, but the words seemed to catch heavily in his throat. With great effort, he commanded, "Break him apart completely." Having said this, he turned on his heel and walked away. The man screamed after him, "Listen to me! I completely memorized exactly what was written on it—it consisted of just three distinct letters: A.M.A. Then, there was a completely separate name that followed it, resembling the name of a hospital or a specific neighborhood. The moment it crosses my memory, I will come and reveal it to you! But for the love of God, do not harm me; have mercy on me, I am a newlywed man!" "As for me, I didn't even get to spend a single night in my bride's room, despite all the immense struggles I endured. Uhmmm," Moh muttered, falling completely silent as the fading, agonizing echo of his late wife's voice resonated clearly in his ears. He abruptly stood up and walked forward. Goje remarked, "I will be checking in on you periodically, because you are now an asset locked inside Moh's treasury." They quickly rushed to catch up with him, seeing that he had already walked a significant distance ahead. "Master of the Wilderness, so you actually know the white man's language? I distinctly heard you say 'Good.'" "Do I look like someone who is completely ignorant of English, driving, or how to operate a mobile phone?" They stared at him intently. Darma remarked, "You are a deeply complex vessel, by Allah, continuously battling your own internal demons. Let us drop this matter entirely. What is the plan regarding the wilderness?" Moh looked as though he would remain silent, but then muttered, "I want absolutely nothing to do with any woman. I am entirely capable of killing her, just as I killed the other one." Darma burst into a loud roar of laughter, shaking his head dynamically. "Forget that! By Allah, she is incredibly scrawny and fragile. Yet, they don't even call her 'Boss'; they claim she is the 'Manja' (Manager)." Goje interjected, "Your problem is that you are an absolute blockhead; you are a deeply uncultured fellow. It is pronounced 'Manager,' you utter drunkard! You keep saying 'Manja' as if she's palm oil (Manja)." Darma completely ignored Goje and turned to Moh, saying, "In all honesty, that girl's waist could easily snap right in half during the process of pulling her out. Master of the Wilderness, is it possible that you haven't even laid eyes on her yet?" Moh remained completely silent, listening to their chatter. Darma continued, "It is a matter of profound gratitude. I am speaking to you—haven't you seen her? She is as delicate as a young dove." "Who exactly?" "The 'Manja' girl." "If you utter the word 'Manja' in this vicinity ever again, I will make you see your own blood look like palm oil, you absolute nuisance of a boy." Mutallab (Moh) kept his eyes half-closed, his mind wandering through entirely different calculations. The specific letters the informant had revealed were spinning relentlessly inside his head: A.M.A. He couldn't quite decipher what each individual letter signified. He bit down hard on his lip, his chest heaving as a deep, aching soreness enveloped his entire body. He opened his eyes and looked up at the night sky, watching how the heavy storm clouds raced across the atmosphere, colliding and dispersing. In a barely audible whisper, he muttered: "Her eyes look exactly like Tiger's." The following morning around 12:00 PM, Safiyyerh was upstairs in her bedroom, watching Kinal, who was pacing around with absolute distress—an act that under any other circumstance would have made Safiyyerh burst into laughter. Kinal wiped away her tears, twisting her face into a deeply pained expression, and said in a subdued tone, "Look at what they did to my face! All I did was ask a simple question, assuming they would give me a direct answer, but it turns out they are absolute thugs. I didn't go to them with any malicious intent whatsoever, by Allah! I just wanted them to provide an answer so I could be on my way." "Well, there is your answer right there." "Maama, a woman's face is her entire beauty! Now, if mine is permanently ruined, who on earth would ever marry me looking like this? They came dangerously close to slicing my mouth open. To make matters worse, I have an enormous amount of work pending downstairs—I am even scheduled to compose a campaign song for Hon. Maɗatai." Safiyyerh remained quiet, deeply lost in thought; her mind was entirely consumed with finding a way to secretly escape from the house, but there was absolutely no way out. Kinal snapped, "I am sitting here pouring my heart out, yet you are completely tuned out. Your persistent coldness is genuinely draining me. I came here specifically to distract you from your profound grief over losing Ashraf, exactly as Ummi requested. Despite the intense pain racking my mouth, I am sitting here rambling, while you are completely ignoring me, for God's sake!" "If you cannot marry a normal suitor, then simply go ahead and marry a thug instead." Kinal let out a sharp hiss and retorted, "And I actually can! What is stopping me?" "You? Marrying a thug?" Fiyya demanded, locking her eyes onto Kinal as she waited for an answer. Kinal declared, "It's a deal! I swear an absolute oath to you, as long as I have breath in my body, by Allah, I will marry one of those very thugs. Are they really going to treat a renowned singer like me in this manner? Hmph." Fiyya closed her eyes and took a deep, heavy breath. Deep within her soul, her heart began to thump violently. She remarked: "You would most likely suit them perfectly anyway; thugs actually know how to love fiercely." "And how on earth would you know they know how to love?" Fiyya simply shrugged her shoulders without offering any verbal response. She let out a long, heavy sigh, looked directly at Kinal, and said, "Kinal, Ashraf is gone. The man I was destined to marry has left me, Kinal. I am drowning in a sea of absolute despair. If this were the old Safiyyerh, I would never openly admit to being in distress. I genuinely feel as though it would be better if death took me instead." Kinal nodded sympathetically. "Fiyya, just because something is over doesn't mean your life is over. Have patience; let us accept divine destiny and pray for Ashraf, please. Do not allow this grief to completely consume you, because whenever you break down mentally, it is as if you possess a erratic spirit over your head. Our destiny will ultimately turn out beautiful; after all, we are backed by the constant prayers of our parents." She spent a considerable amount of time comforting Fiyya until evening arrived, before finally departing for home, silently resolving that she absolutely had to return to the hideout of those underground thugs. With immense physical effort later that night, Fiyya made her way downstairs after performing her night (Isha) prayers. She was clad in a full-length, flowing hijab. Her face looked relatively composed—neither betraying absolute weakness nor revealing any lightness—though her hollowed eyes clearly indicated the profound weight of anxiety pressing down on her soul. She walked directly toward the spot where J and his crew were gathered, stepping right into the midst of the men, and sat down gracefully. She murmured, "Good evening to you all." Awais raised his head, looked at her, and asked, "Welcome, Manager. How are you coping with the loss?" She rolled her eyes slightly, bit her lip, and replied: "Alhamdulillah, thank you." Daddy, who was watching her with a gaze filled with deep, paternal sympathy, commanded, "Stand up from that spot, Safiyyerh." "Daddy, why?" "Just stand up and move away, I said." Dejectedly, she stood up and quietly made her way back upstairs. His eyes followed her departing figure. Ummi turned to him and softly inquired, "When exactly do you intend to inform her about the marriage arrangement?" Daddy replied, "Only after her international visa process is fully finalized. I am well aware that her previous visa has already expired. Safiyyerh is an incredibly stubborn girl; the moment I mention the visa, she will lock her eyes onto mine and unleash a torrent of English arguments. Her sheer cleverness genuinely terrifies me. Furthermore, right now, I feel completely comfortable with Aliyu as her husband. Even though they are constantly at each other's throats, he is the one man who will never tolerate her defiance. My only hope is that she doesn't end up living in his house like a literal prisoner; she will definitely think twice before pulling any stunts with him." "Do you truly believe she will willingly consent to this marriage?" He stood up, preparing to head upstairs, and said, "Insha Allah." He had merely stopped by the living room to sit down briefly upon returning from his prayers. Throughout this conversation, J remained entirely mute, offering neither a yes nor a no. An immense web of hidden undercurrents was actively operating beneath the surface—all tied directly to the swirling questions: Who truly is Safiyyerh, and who exactly is Aliyu? Ummi observed how Aliyu walked into the room, completely ignoring everyone present as though he hadn't seen a single soul. She remarked, "Aliyu, where on earth have you been since morning?" He opened his eyes briefly but remained silent. She continued, "And have you eaten anything at all? Though, I suppose one shouldn't bother asking a soldier if he has eaten; if your stomach were to be opened up, it would be entirely filled with wild leaves anyway." He simply stared at Ummi, maintaining his absolute silence. "Will you be departing tomorrow morning?" "No, tonight, Ummi," he muttered, stepping directly into his private quarters located within the men's wing of the compound. Upstairs in her room, Fiyya wept bitterly, her tears flowing as though her very soul were being ripped apart. She quickly powered on her laptop and discovered a new email message in her inbox, sent exactly twenty-five minutes after her final phone conversation with Ashraf before his passing. The explicit message he had transmitted caused her eyes to widen in sheer shock:
Safiyyerh, Daddy just came by and left just now. Whatever the case may be, ensure that you never grant anyone the opportunity to seize control of the FS WORLD INVESTMENT COMPANY, Fiyya. Five highly dangerous individuals are the true hidden stakeholders of this conglomerate. Even I do not know their true identities. If it were within my power right now, I would reveal absolutely everything to you to ease your burden. Begin your investigation by uncovering the true meaning behind the letters 'FS'—that is the ultimate key to the investigation. Don't cry when you miss me. I love you.
Safiyyerh was thoroughly shell-shocked. Her mind raced over why on earth Ashraf would explicitly mention Daddy's name at that critical moment. What massive storm was preparing to break out over their lives? Her head throbbed violently. The painful reality of losing Ashraf truly hit her now, and she could feel her heartbeat accelerating, effectively doubling her resolve to complete the mission Ashraf had left behind. She lay down, closing her eyes in sheer exhaustion. Suddenly, the sharp chime of a phone notification caused her to snap her eyes open. She slowly pulled the device closer, reading a brief text message packed with cryptic, underlying meaning:
"A crime piled upon yet another crime again? However, a crime is a towering hill, Safiyyerh, and you are merely standing in someone else's shadow. Exert every effort to ensure you are not pushed into the blazing fire."
Terrified and pushed to the brink of panic, she gasped aloud, "I am completely ruined, woe unto me, Safiyyerh!" It was deep into the night, around 2:40 AM. His vehicle was parked quietly on the shoulder of the road in the absolute pitch-black darkness. He wore a face mask that completely concealed his features. Intense fear and anxiety gripped his heart as he slowly rolled down the car window. No onlooker could ever deduce who was sitting inside. Suddenly, the passenger door flew open, and a figure slid into the vehicle, snapping, "A meeting in the dead of night? I absolutely loathe being summoned while I am in the middle of executing an active operation. What is the issue?" The informant pulled out a photograph and handed it over. It depicted an exceptionally fair-skinned, beautiful young boy with wide, striking eyes, his face twisted into a playful pout as he extended his tiny hand as if requesting a toy. The child was clad in a stylish set of black children's clothing. "I see it. Whose photograph is this? Who is this boy?" "He is Safiyyerh’s biological son," the informant uttered. He closed his eyes heavily, leaning his head back against the car seat as his chest heaved, absolute terror and anxiety completely filling his soul. "What! Safiyyerh has a child?!" "Yes. If you look at Safiyyerh and look at this boy, the resemblance is an absolute carbon copy. I have absolutely no idea if she is even aware of the child's whereabouts or current status. Ensure that Safiyyerh’s exact location is accurately uncovered for me." Five full days had elapsed since Ashraf's burial, yet Daddy had still not broken the news of the mandatory marriage to Fiyya; similarly, Aliyu remained entirely in the dark. Fiyya continued her routine of leaving the house early every morning for her professional duties and never returning until late. Late one evening, around the dusk twilight (Maghrib), she was driving back home, feeling completely drained and exhausted. Suddenly, she realized with absolute certainty that she was being actively pursued. She rapidly accelerated, shifting the car into higher gears. She grabbed her mobile phone and dialed J’s number, but the call went completely unanswered. In a panic, she dialed Daddy’s number, but it indicated it was switched off. She systematically dialed every single number belonging to the household staff and security, but she couldn't reach a single soul. She glanced at her rearview mirror and confirmed that the suspicious vehicle was still tracking her relentlessly, flanked by two menacing motorcycles. She couldn't decipher the faces of the occupants, but a single look told her everything she needed to know—they were hardened underground thugs. Whether they were after her car or her life, she was in extreme peril. The two motorcycles rapidly caught up to her vehicle; one of the riders reached out and smashed his fist violently against her car window. She swerved hard to the shoulder, pressing the accelerator to its absolute limit, while they trailed her closely. At that moment, the sheer terror proved too much to bear; her vision began to blur rapidly, and she could feel the steering wheel actively slipping from her grip. Trembling violently as she fought to maintain control of the vehicle, she frantically scrolled through her contacts, settling on a number she wasn't even certain was active. By sheer luck, the line connected. She dialed repeatedly; it wasn't until the sixth attempt that the line was finally answered. Gasping for breath and completely hysterical, she screamed into the receiver: "Yaya, I am completely ruined! Captain, some men are after me!" An absolute, dead silence greeted her from the other end. Finally, his cold voice cut through: "Who are you?" "Yaya, it is Safiyyerh! Some vicious thugs are actively pursuing me on a completely deserted road! Captain, there are so many of them—some are on motorcycles, and others are in a car! I have dialed every single number at home, but no one is picking up! My migraine is tearing my head apart, I can barely see the road, and I am losing total control of the car!" Through the receiver, Captain let out a sharp, dismissive hiss and coldly replied: "How is that my concern?" "Captain, they are literally going to murder me! Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un!" "May Allah have mercy on your soul then," he replied flatly. "What do you mean, 'May Allah have mercy on my soul'?! Captain, I am literally telling you that I am being hunted and about to be assassinated, and you are casually telling me 'May Allah have mercy on your soul'?! I called you purely because I had absolutely no one else left to turn to! Please, help me!" Through the line, Captain let out a sharp hiss and barked: "Listen to me, girl—how on earth is your life my responsibility? If they murder you, who cares about your life? I will simply call Daddy so he can arrange to pick up your corpse, okay?" He abruptly slammed the phone down, terminating the call. An intense, burning sensation of agonizing pain and profound betrayal washed over Safiyyerh’s entire soul. She didn't even know what dark, monstrous category to place Aliyu into. Tears cascaded freely down her cheeks, and she instantly regretted ever lowering herself to call him, bitterly blaming herself for the mistake. Through her rearview mirror, she watched the pursuing vehicle and the motorcycles close the final gap. Squeezing her eyes shut, she cried out aloud to the empty car: "O Allah! O All-Merciful! Look upon Safiyyerh and send down Your divine intervention... Daddy!" She screamed Daddy’s name in absolute terror as her hands completely slipped off the steering wheel. She lost total consciousness, knowing absolutely nothing of what transpired after that moment. He stood perfectly still, having just stepped out of his vehicle. He looked down at her fragile form lying completely flat on the hard asphalt. Blood was oozing steadily from the side of her head. He turned his gaze to the heavily armed security operatives surrounding the perimeter and demanded, "Is she okay? Is she still breathing?" "She is alive, Sir. It is a severe concussive impact from the crash, but by Allah's grace, the vehicle ground to a halt on its own. We weren't able to apprehend a single one of the assailants; they slipped away. As for the girl, we have absolutely no idea who she is. We are about to search her belongings for an identity card so we can contact her parents to inform them, or immediately rush her to a hospital." The operative spoke with absolute deference, his head bowed respectfully. The man who had inquired whether Fiyya was still alive took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. He checked his luxury wristwatch but remained completely silent. The operative added, "Sir, what about your high-profile meeting? I highly suggest you proceed to it immediately; we can handle..."
Part 2: Narrative & Subplot Breakdown
This fast-paced, high-stakes chapter advances multiple parallel storylines across politics, corporate espionage, underground criminality, and a dark, forced romance.
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ THE DEATH OF ASHRAF │
│ (Catalyst for Corporate Espionage) │
└───────────────────┬────────────────────┘
│
┌────────────────────────────┴────────────────────────────┐
▼ ▼
┌─────────────────────────────────┐ ┌─────────────────────────────────┐
│ SAFIYYERH'S ARC │ │ MUTALLAB (MOH) ARC │
├─────────────────────────────────┤ ├─────────────────────────────────┤
│ • Forced marriage to Aliyu. │ │ • Torturing the camp informant. │
│ • Inherits "FS Investment" mystery.│ │ • Discovers the cipher: "A.M.A."│
│ • Assassination attempt / Crash.│ │ • Hunted by corporate forces. │
└─────────────────────────────────┘ └─────────────────────────────────┘
1. The Corporate & Political Nexus (The "FS Investment" Cipher)
The chapter opens with an intense political exchange between Hon. Maɗatai, Eng. Ali Wali, and Sharfaɗi at a mourning gathering for Ashraf. This sequence establishes that:
The political stakes are lethal: The race for a highly contested seat is masked by fake political civility. Hon. Maɗatai views Ali Wali’s unpredictable public outbursts as a smoke screen for a much deeper threat.
The FS World Investment Mystery: Before his sudden death, Ashraf manages to send a highly classified email to Fiyya. He warns her that five highly dangerous, anonymous global power-brokers own this investment firm. He explicitly names her father (Daddy) as a key player involved in this dangerous circle. The ultimate key to surviving this corporate warfare lies in decoding the acronym "FS".
2. The Forced Military Marriage
Despite Safiyyerh’s absolute devastation over the death of her fiancé, Daddy moves forward with a cold, protective strategy:
The Unwanted Union: Daddy has secretly finalized a forced marriage between Safiyyerh and Captain Aliyu. He is keeping it hidden from Fiyya until her international visa is renewed, fearing her sharp intellect and command of English will allow her to legally dismantle his plans.
Aliyu’s Cold Persona: Captain Aliyu exhibits an intensely detached, almost sociopathic military discipline. When forced by Daddy to pick up an incapacitated, heavily medicated Fiyya from the hospital, he treats her with absolute disdain—even nudging the hospital bed with his foot rather than touching her gently.
3. Mutallab (Moh) & The Underground Extraction
In a dark contrast to the elite living rooms, Mutallab (Moh) is operating in the brutal criminal underworld:
The Midnight Interrogation: Heavily intoxicated and accompanied by his massive attack dog, Tiger, and his henchmen (Darma and Goje), Moh uses brutal torture methods (razor blades and wild scorpions) to interrogate a camp informant.
The Stolen Message: The informant reveals that on the night Safiyyerh was brought to the camp, two separate masked factions paid him off. A highly classified message meant for Moh was stolen and bought for one million Naira.
The "A.M.A." Clue: The only clue left is a three-letter cipher—**A.M.A.**—linked to a specific hospital or hidden neighborhood. Moh also experiences a striking moment of recognition when he looks into the sky and realizes that Safiyyerh’s eyes look exactly like his tracking hound, Tiger.
4. The Targeted Ambush & Aliyu's Betrayal
The climax of the chapter brings Safiyyerh’s storyline into direct, violent collision with the corporate conspirators:
The Highway Chase: While driving home during the Maghrib twilight, Fiyya is systematically boxed in by a targeted tactical hit squad composed of a trailing car and two motorcycles.
The Psychological Breaking Point: Stranded on a deserted road with a blinding migraine, Fiyya makes a desperate call to Captain Aliyu for emergency extraction. Aliyu delivers a shocking display of cold indifference, telling her, "May Allah have mercy on your soul then... I will simply call Daddy so he can arrange to pick up your corpse."
The Critical Cliffhanger: Distracted by betrayal and terror, Fiyya crashes her vehicle and loses consciousness on the asphalt. The chapter closes with an anonymous, elite figure stepping out of a luxury vehicle to confirm if she is still breathing, leaving her fate hanging completely in the balance.
JARABABBEN NAMIJI BOOK 2 COMPELET
Part 1:
"It has been many days, Ali Wali," said Ali Wali as he pulled his hand away, before turning around to add, "Not right now. Wait a while and everything will become illuminated. There will be a clap of thunder, and the flash of lightning will expose the hypocrites hiding within the dark tall grass." Hon. Maɗatai simply offered a subtle smile, uttering, "May Allah witness it and bring us to that day." They all exchanged formal greetings, except for Daddy; between him and the others, there were only silent prayers as he stood up to leave the gathering. After offering his condolences, Hon. Maɗatai said, "May Allah grant Ashraf eternal mercy and limit his misfortunes to this." Sharfaɗi turned his gaze to Hon. Maɗatai, then looked at Eng. Ali Wali, and remarked, "Amen. Now, isn't it beautiful to witness politics being played without deep-seated malice? That way, there is greater peace of mind and mental tranquility. Whoever is destined to secure this political seat, the Almighty has already decreed it in writing; right now, everyone is merely groping around in the dark. You should unite, join hands, and let everyone run their respective campaigns. The ultimate joy is that you do not even belong to the same political party."
Nodding his head in agreement, Hon. Maɗatai smiled. He inherently had no issues with Eng. Ali Wali; it was Wali's erratic outbursts that concerned him, and his current focus was entirely on the man who had remained silent. That particular silence, to him, represented a massive, looming threat. "Politics will never cause a Muslim like me to fight with another. We have witnessed yesterday, we see today, and we are certain we shall see a beautiful tomorrow. My absolute hope is to secure a slot to invest in your multi-national firm, if I am granted the opportunity. That alone would mean the world to me, Sharfaɗi." While listening to them, Daddy's phone rang. He quickly stood up, excusing himself to leave, while Eng. Ali Wali's eyes followed him out.
In the dead of night, Fiyya woke up to an excruciating migraine localized on one side of her head. Unable to open her eyes, she slowly reached up and clasped her head in her hands. Despite her agonizing state, she did not forget to recite her awakening prayers, purely to reassure herself that she hadn't woken up inside a grave. "Take heart, Maama," was all Ummi could say, silently offering praises to Allah in her heart because the silence had lasted far too long. She tightly squeezed Fiyya's hand.
"Ummi, my head hurts. I feel a piercing pain on one side of my head," Fiyya whimpered, her body physically trembling from the intensity of the pain. Ummi consoled her, "Maama, it will stop, Insha Allah. Let us call the doctor."
"Ummi, where is Daddy?"
"He just stepped out. Keep reciting your prayers; everything that has a beginning has an end. This headache will fade away one day. Open your eyes and look at me." She slowly pried her eyelids open, and seeing how bloodshot they were, Ummi exclaimed, "Subhanallah! Is this intense redness from the medication, or what is causing it?"
"Ummi, the prolonged duration she spent lying down with that headache is exactly why her eyes are so bloodshot right now. Once Daddy walks in, Fiyya will feel much better. Rest your mind." At that exact moment, Daddy pushed the door open and walked in, with J and Dr. Hash following closely behind him. Seeing them instantly caused everything to flood back into Fiyya’s memory; she squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of intense panic washed over her. "Is it truly true that Ashraf is dead, Daddy? Is it true that Ashraf has been buried, that there is no more Ashraf, and that he is dead? As we speak, is the man I was supposed to marry on my wedding day currently lying inside a grave? Daddy, I am utterly ruined!" Daddy gently and reassuringly took hold of Fiyya’s hand and said:
"No, you are not ruined at all. It is entirely possible that he has simply crossed his designated earthly boundary. Death is entirely in the hands of the Almighty; when the appointed time arrives, through whatever means, that soul must return to the One who created it. Maama, it is a reality that the man you were destined to marry has passed away. Rest your heart, pray for him, embrace absolute peace, and accept that he was neither your ultimate destiny nor the source of your greater blessings. The Almighty executes everything at His own decreed time, and no one can question His divine reasoning, for He is all-sufficient. Recite your prayers, Safiyyerh. Ashraf is no longer alive. Pray for him." Fiyya turned and locked her wide, tear-filled eyes onto Daddy. With immense difficulty, she managed to say, "Ashraf died and left me in absolute, terrifying suspense, Daddy. If only our marriage had been solemnized long before now! Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un, woe unto me, Safiyyerh!"
"Suspense over what, Safiyyerh? You have witnessed so many monumental trials in your life; why should Ashraf's death break your stride? Will you not pray and grant your heart absolute closure? Besides, a denial from Allah is ultimately a hidden blessing. Just as it is known today that your marriage to Ashraf was not divinely decreed by Allah, His promise remains absolute truth—the marital tie of another man has already legally descended upon you, Maama." She fell silent, fully realizing that Daddy would never truly understand her, nor would he comprehend what she truly meant. She missed Ashraf deeply before they had even begun their life together; she intensely wished that the Almighty had taken her life instead and spared Ashraf, even if he had never married her. No doubt, through him, someone could have uncovered what lay hidden, but now death had snatched him away, leaving her stranded in a maze of profound anxiety without leaving behind a single clue for her to unravel anything.
"Daddy, why did you arrange my marriage to Ashraf in the very first place?" Daddy looked at Fiyya with a deeply calming demeanor and replied, "Because he was entirely worthy and deserving, Maama. Silence these thoughts; it is merely the searing pain of grief making you utter these words, like a sudden downpour of rain. Pray." She nodded slowly, gently withdrawing her hand from his. With her eyes closed, she exhaled heavy sighs without uttering another word, turning over to lie down as Ashraf’s parting words continuously echoed in her mind. Within her soul, she continuously prayed for him. She had never known he was suffering from an ailment; he had never once disclosed to her that he was sick, Innalillahi.
The doctor walked into the room, preparing to speak, but Daddy quickly shook his head, signaling him not to say anything critical aloud. The doctor fixed his gaze on Safiyyerh and said, "She will be discharged today, just as you requested since you don't want an overnight stay. I will administer an injection to her, but before that..."
"Thank you, Doctor."
Dr. Hash stood up and said, "Daddy, I must head to the hospital; I am on the night shift. Awais will drop me off. I am not feeling well." Ummi interjected, "You are not feeling well, yet you are heading out as if it's mandatory for you to pull an all-nighter? Can't an excuse be taken?" He offered a faint, polite smile and replied, "Ummi, it is impossible for me to accept wages and refuse to work; the Almighty would surely hold me accountable for that duty. Pray for me, I can manage it." She replied, "May Allah grant relief, grant you success, and protect you."
"Amen, Ummi."
The doctor administered the injection to Fiyya, and she plunged into a deep, heavy sleep. Ummi kept her gaze fixed on Daddy as she listened to him call Aliyu, instructing him to arrive and pick Fiyya up in twenty minutes, while Daddy would depart alongside Ummi. Up until this very moment, Aliyu was completely oblivious to the marriage arrangement, just as Fiyya had failed to take Daddy's previous statements seriously. He adjusted her bedding, stood up, and Ummi followed suit, gently stroking Safiyyerh’s head before they both exited the room. Until around 1:30 AM, Fiyya remained fast asleep, with a nurse checking in on her periodically. He stood there, both hands deeply buried in his pockets. He couldn't quite articulate what was racing through his mind, but his gaze was entirely locked onto her face, observing how even in her deep sleep, her brow remained furrowed as she let out heavy sighs. The door clicked open, and he quickly took a step back, completely masking his facial expression.
The doctor looked at the Captain and remarked, "Only now? I genuinely assumed she would be spending the entire night here." Aliyu remained silent, pulling out his phone and tapping away on the screen. "Here are her statements; this will be utilized when the time comes..." "Call them and explain it to them," Aliyu muttered. He stood there contemplating how best to wake her up, as Daddy’s persistent calls were the sole reason he had even bothered to show up. He extended his foot and nudged the edge of the bed. The doctor remarked, "The injection administered to her is incredibly potent; your only option is to physically carry her." Aliyu let out a sharp, subtle hiss and snapped, "Fine, then you carry her." Seeing the deadpan, serious expression on Aliyu's face, the doctor approached Fiyya to lift her and carry her outside. Before he could even reach her, Captain intervened, sweeping her up along with her IV drip and her wrap. She jolted slightly, instinctively gripping onto him. If his ears weren't deceiving him, he thought he heard her mumble, "TAHHB." He placed her into the front passenger seat of his car, reclined the seat back, and drove off at a breakneck speed, looking like a man being actively pursued.
He remained crouched, fixing his bloodshot, deeply sunken eyes—a clear indication of heavy intoxication—intently upon the man. His hand tightly gripped a razor blade, while right beside him stood his massive, towering dog, Tiger, who was his absolute favorite among all his trained hounds. He pressed the razor deep into the man’s thigh, slicing downward. Blood began to spurt out profusely, causing the man to let out blood-curdling screams and wails in the absolute pitch-black darkness of the night.
The man cried out, "Why do you possess absolutely no mercy? Are you trying to slice my thigh clean in two?!"
Despite his heavily intoxicated state, Moh's eyes flew wide open. In a voice that instantly conveyed he was a man of few words, carrying a low, gravelly resonance akin to the deep growl of a lion, he demanded:
"Do you recognize me now?" The man nodded frantically, letting out ragged, desperate gasps that sounded like a death rattle. "I recognize you, I recognize you! By Allah, I recognize you!"
"Good," Moh muttered. He plunged the razor even deeper. Blood sprayed out. Suddenly, a scorpion dropped and scurried directly into the man’s trousers. Moh remarked, "When my forced marital union—meaning my wedding—took place, and I arrived, you were the one spotted directly at the entrance of my residence. Is that correct?" He demanded, tossing yet another pitch-black, menacing scorpion directly into the man’s trousers. Darma and Goje held him pinned down, each crushing one of his hands underfoot. The man remained mute, which only served to enrage Moh even further.
"When I am pushed to a headache, I descend into absolute madness, and you will not enjoy the outcome. I am ravenous. Speak!" Teetering on the brink of death and choking on his own breath, the man gasped, "I will speak, I will speak!" They finally released their grip, standing back to watch him.
"Two distinct groups of people breached the area on the exact night she was brought here. The first group handed me a large sum of money, their faces completely masked. The second group arrived later and handed me even more money; their faces were also entirely masked, but they left behind a specific message to be delivered to you since that time. After your arrest, I had absolutely no idea who to deliver it to, so I wandered aimlessly before ultimately giving up. Much later, others arrived and demanded that I hand over that very message. I initially refused, but they lavished me with wealth, handing me a staggering sum of one million Naira. Given the crushing poverty and starvation we face in this land, and with a family dependent on me, I simply capitulated and handed it over to him."
Darma interjected, "Look at you! You wretched inhabitants of this region will never find peace in this life, and you will barely taste the waters of paradise." Moh fixed his piercing, bloodshot eyes on the man, then stood up straight. He attempted to speak, but the words seemed to catch heavily in his throat. With great effort, he commanded, "Break him apart completely." Having said this, he turned on his heel and walked away.
The man screamed after him, "Listen to me! I completely memorized exactly what was written on it—it consisted of just three distinct letters: A.M.A. Then, there was a completely separate name that followed it, resembling the name of a hospital or a specific neighborhood. The moment it crosses my memory, I will come and reveal it to you! But for the love of God, do not harm me; have mercy on me, I am a newlywed man!"
"As for me, I didn't even get to spend a single night in my bride's room, despite all the immense struggles I endured. Uhmmm," Moh muttered, falling completely silent as the fading, agonizing echo of his late wife's voice resonated clearly in his ears. He abruptly stood up and walked forward. Goje remarked, "I will be checking in on you periodically, because you are now an asset locked inside Moh's treasury."
They quickly rushed to catch up with him, seeing that he had already walked a significant distance ahead. "Master of the Wilderness, so you actually know the white man's language? I distinctly heard you say 'Good.'"
"Do I look like someone who is completely ignorant of English, driving, or how to operate a mobile phone?" They stared at him intently. Darma remarked, "You are a deeply complex vessel, by Allah, continuously battling your own internal demons. Let us drop this matter entirely. What is the plan regarding the wilderness?" Moh looked as though he would remain silent, but then muttered, "I want absolutely nothing to do with any woman. I am entirely capable of killing her, just as I killed the other one."
Darma burst into a loud roar of laughter, shaking his head dynamically. "Forget that! By Allah, she is incredibly scrawny and fragile. Yet, they don't even call her 'Boss'; they claim she is the 'Manja' (Manager)." Goje interjected, "Your problem is that you are an absolute blockhead; you are a deeply uncultured fellow. It is pronounced 'Manager,' you utter drunkard! You keep saying 'Manja' as if she's palm oil (Manja)." Darma completely ignored Goje and turned to Moh, saying, "In all honesty, that girl's waist could easily snap right in half during the process of pulling her out. Master of the Wilderness, is it possible that you haven't even laid eyes on her yet?" Moh remained completely silent, listening to their chatter. Darma continued, "It is a matter of profound gratitude. I am speaking to you—haven't you seen her? She is as delicate as a young dove."
"Who exactly?"
"The 'Manja' girl."
"If you utter the word 'Manja' in this vicinity ever again, I will make you see your own blood look like palm oil, you absolute nuisance of a boy." Mutallab (Moh) kept his eyes half-closed, his mind wandering through entirely different calculations. The specific letters the informant had revealed were spinning relentlessly inside his head: A.M.A. He couldn't quite decipher what each individual letter signified. He bit down hard on his lip, his chest heaving as a deep, aching soreness enveloped his entire body. He opened his eyes and looked up at the night sky, watching how the heavy storm clouds raced across the atmosphere, colliding and dispersing. In a barely audible whisper, he muttered:
"Her eyes look exactly like Tiger's."
The following morning around 12:00 PM, Safiyyerh was upstairs in her bedroom, watching Kinal, who was pacing around with absolute distress—an act that under any other circumstance would have made Safiyyerh burst into laughter. Kinal wiped away her tears, twisting her face into a deeply pained expression, and said in a subdued tone, "Look at what they did to my face! All I did was ask a simple question, assuming they would give me a direct answer, but it turns out they are absolute thugs. I didn't go to them with any malicious intent whatsoever, by Allah! I just wanted them to provide an answer so I could be on my way."
"Well, there is your answer right there."
"Maama, a woman's face is her entire beauty! Now, if mine is permanently ruined, who on earth would ever marry me looking like this? They came dangerously close to slicing my mouth open. To make matters worse, I have an enormous amount of work pending downstairs—I am even scheduled to compose a campaign song for Hon. Maɗatai." Safiyyerh remained quiet, deeply lost in thought; her mind was entirely consumed with finding a way to secretly escape from the house, but there was absolutely no way out. Kinal snapped, "I am sitting here pouring my heart out, yet you are completely tuned out. Your persistent coldness is genuinely draining me. I came here specifically to distract you from your profound grief over losing Ashraf, exactly as Ummi requested. Despite the intense pain racking my mouth, I am sitting here rambling, while you are completely ignoring me, for God's sake!"
"If you cannot marry a normal suitor, then simply go ahead and marry a thug instead." Kinal let out a sharp hiss and retorted, "And I actually can! What is stopping me?"
"You? Marrying a thug?" Fiyya demanded, locking her eyes onto Kinal as she waited for an answer. Kinal declared, "It's a deal! I swear an absolute oath to you, as long as I have breath in my body, by Allah, I will marry one of those very thugs. Are they really going to treat a renowned singer like me in this manner? Hmph." Fiyya closed her eyes and took a deep, heavy breath. Deep within her soul, her heart began to thump violently. She remarked:
"You would most likely suit them perfectly anyway; thugs actually know how to love fiercely."
"And how on earth would you know they know how to love?" Fiyya simply shrugged her shoulders without offering any verbal response. She let out a long, heavy sigh, looked directly at Kinal, and said, "Kinal, Ashraf is gone. The man I was destined to marry has left me, Kinal. I am drowning in a sea of absolute despair. If this were the old Safiyyerh, I would never openly admit to being in distress. I genuinely feel as though it would be better if death took me instead." Kinal nodded sympathetically. "Fiyya, just because something is over doesn't mean your life is over. Have patience; let us accept divine destiny and pray for Ashraf, please. Do not allow this grief to completely consume you, because whenever you break down mentally, it is as if you possess a erratic spirit over your head. Our destiny will ultimately turn out beautiful; after all, we are backed by the constant prayers of our parents." She spent a considerable amount of time comforting Fiyya until evening arrived, before finally departing for home, silently resolving that she absolutely had to return to the hideout of those underground thugs.
With immense physical effort later that night, Fiyya made her way downstairs after performing her night (Isha) prayers. She was clad in a full-length, flowing hijab. Her face looked relatively composed—neither betraying absolute weakness nor revealing any lightness—though her hollowed eyes clearly indicated the profound weight of anxiety pressing down on her soul. She walked directly toward the spot where J and his crew were gathered, stepping right into the midst of the men, and sat down gracefully. She murmured, "Good evening to you all." Awais raised his head, looked at her, and asked, "Welcome, Manager. How are you coping with the loss?" She rolled her eyes slightly, bit her lip, and replied:
"Alhamdulillah, thank you." Daddy, who was watching her with a gaze filled with deep, paternal sympathy, commanded, "Stand up from that spot, Safiyyerh."
"Daddy, why?"
"Just stand up and move away, I said."
Dejectedly, she stood up and quietly made her way back upstairs. His eyes followed her departing figure. Ummi turned to him and softly inquired, "When exactly do you intend to inform her about the marriage arrangement?" Daddy replied, "Only after her international visa process is fully finalized. I am well aware that her previous visa has already expired. Safiyyerh is an incredibly stubborn girl; the moment I mention the visa, she will lock her eyes onto mine and unleash a torrent of English arguments. Her sheer cleverness genuinely terrifies me. Furthermore, right now, I feel completely comfortable with Aliyu as her husband. Even though they are constantly at each other's throats, he is the one man who will never tolerate her defiance. My only hope is that she doesn't end up living in his house like a literal prisoner; she will definitely think twice before pulling any stunts with him."
"Do you truly believe she will willingly consent to this marriage?" He stood up, preparing to head upstairs, and said, "Insha Allah." He had merely stopped by the living room to sit down briefly upon returning from his prayers. Throughout this conversation, J remained entirely mute, offering neither a yes nor a no. An immense web of hidden undercurrents was actively operating beneath the surface—all tied directly to the swirling questions: Who truly is Safiyyerh, and who exactly is Aliyu?
Ummi observed how Aliyu walked into the room, completely ignoring everyone present as though he hadn't seen a single soul. She remarked, "Aliyu, where on earth have you been since morning?" He opened his eyes briefly but remained silent. She continued, "And have you eaten anything at all? Though, I suppose one shouldn't bother asking a soldier if he has eaten; if your stomach were to be opened up, it would be entirely filled with wild leaves anyway." He simply stared at Ummi, maintaining his absolute silence.
"Will you be departing tomorrow morning?"
"No, tonight, Ummi," he muttered, stepping directly into his private quarters located within the men's wing of the compound.
Upstairs in her room, Fiyya wept bitterly, her tears flowing as though her very soul were being ripped apart. She quickly powered on her laptop and discovered a new email message in her inbox, sent exactly twenty-five minutes after her final phone conversation with Ashraf before his passing. The explicit message he had transmitted caused her eyes to widen in sheer shock:
Safiyyerh was thoroughly shell-shocked. Her mind raced over why on earth Ashraf would explicitly mention Daddy's name at that critical moment. What massive storm was preparing to break out over their lives? Her head throbbed violently. The painful reality of losing Ashraf truly hit her now, and she could feel her heartbeat accelerating, effectively doubling her resolve to complete the mission Ashraf had left behind. She lay down, closing her eyes in sheer exhaustion. Suddenly, the sharp chime of a phone notification caused her to snap her eyes open. She slowly pulled the device closer, reading a brief text message packed with cryptic, underlying meaning:
Terrified and pushed to the brink of panic, she gasped aloud, "I am completely ruined, woe unto me, Safiyyerh!"
It was deep into the night, around 2:40 AM. His vehicle was parked quietly on the shoulder of the road in the absolute pitch-black darkness. He wore a face mask that completely concealed his features. Intense fear and anxiety gripped his heart as he slowly rolled down the car window. No onlooker could ever deduce who was sitting inside. Suddenly, the passenger door flew open, and a figure slid into the vehicle, snapping, "A meeting in the dead of night? I absolutely loathe being summoned while I am in the middle of executing an active operation. What is the issue?"
The informant pulled out a photograph and handed it over. It depicted an exceptionally fair-skinned, beautiful young boy with wide, striking eyes, his face twisted into a playful pout as he extended his tiny hand as if requesting a toy. The child was clad in a stylish set of black children's clothing. "I see it. Whose photograph is this? Who is this boy?"
"He is Safiyyerh’s biological son," the informant uttered. He closed his eyes heavily, leaning his head back against the car seat as his chest heaved, absolute terror and anxiety completely filling his soul. "What! Safiyyerh has a child?!"
"Yes. If you look at Safiyyerh and look at this boy, the resemblance is an absolute carbon copy. I have absolutely no idea if she is even aware of the child's whereabouts or current status. Ensure that Safiyyerh’s exact location is accurately uncovered for me."
Five full days had elapsed since Ashraf's burial, yet Daddy had still not broken the news of the mandatory marriage to Fiyya; similarly, Aliyu remained entirely in the dark. Fiyya continued her routine of leaving the house early every morning for her professional duties and never returning until late. Late one evening, around the dusk twilight (Maghrib), she was driving back home, feeling completely drained and exhausted. Suddenly, she realized with absolute certainty that she was being actively pursued. She rapidly accelerated, shifting the car into higher gears. She grabbed her mobile phone and dialed J’s number, but the call went completely unanswered. In a panic, she dialed Daddy’s number, but it indicated it was switched off. She systematically dialed every single number belonging to the household staff and security, but she couldn't reach a single soul.
She glanced at her rearview mirror and confirmed that the suspicious vehicle was still tracking her relentlessly, flanked by two menacing motorcycles. She couldn't decipher the faces of the occupants, but a single look told her everything she needed to know—they were hardened underground thugs. Whether they were after her car or her life, she was in extreme peril. The two motorcycles rapidly caught up to her vehicle; one of the riders reached out and smashed his fist violently against her car window. She swerved hard to the shoulder, pressing the accelerator to its absolute limit, while they trailed her closely. At that moment, the sheer terror proved too much to bear; her vision began to blur rapidly, and she could feel the steering wheel actively slipping from her grip. Trembling violently as she fought to maintain control of the vehicle, she frantically scrolled through her contacts, settling on a number she wasn't even certain was active. By sheer luck, the line connected. She dialed repeatedly; it wasn't until the sixth attempt that the line was finally answered. Gasping for breath and completely hysterical, she screamed into the receiver:
"Yaya, I am completely ruined! Captain, some men are after me!"
An absolute, dead silence greeted her from the other end. Finally, his cold voice cut through: "Who are you?"
"Yaya, it is Safiyyerh! Some vicious thugs are actively pursuing me on a completely deserted road! Captain, there are so many of them—some are on motorcycles, and others are in a car! I have dialed every single number at home, but no one is picking up! My migraine is tearing my head apart, I can barely see the road, and I am losing total control of the car!" Through the receiver, Captain let out a sharp, dismissive hiss and coldly replied:
"How is that my concern?"
"Captain, they are literally going to murder me! Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un!"
"May Allah have mercy on your soul then," he replied flatly.
"What do you mean, 'May Allah have mercy on my soul'?! Captain, I am literally telling you that I am being hunted and about to be assassinated, and you are casually telling me 'May Allah have mercy on your soul'?! I called you purely because I had absolutely no one else left to turn to! Please, help me!" Through the line, Captain let out a sharp hiss and barked:
"Listen to me, girl—how on earth is your life my responsibility? If they murder you, who cares about your life? I will simply call Daddy so he can arrange to pick up your corpse, okay?" He abruptly slammed the phone down, terminating the call.
An intense, burning sensation of agonizing pain and profound betrayal washed over Safiyyerh’s entire soul. She didn't even know what dark, monstrous category to place Aliyu into. Tears cascaded freely down her cheeks, and she instantly regretted ever lowering herself to call him, bitterly blaming herself for the mistake. Through her rearview mirror, she watched the pursuing vehicle and the motorcycles close the final gap. Squeezing her eyes shut, she cried out aloud to the empty car: "O Allah! O All-Merciful! Look upon Safiyyerh and send down Your divine intervention... Daddy!"
She screamed Daddy’s name in absolute terror as her hands completely slipped off the steering wheel. She lost total consciousness, knowing absolutely nothing of what transpired after that moment.
He stood perfectly still, having just stepped out of his vehicle. He looked down at her fragile form lying completely flat on the hard asphalt. Blood was oozing steadily from the side of her head. He turned his gaze to the heavily armed security operatives surrounding the perimeter and demanded, "Is she okay? Is she still breathing?"
"She is alive, Sir. It is a severe concussive impact from the crash, but by Allah's grace, the vehicle ground to a halt on its own. We weren't able to apprehend a single one of the assailants; they slipped away. As for the girl, we have absolutely no idea who she is. We are about to search her belongings for an identity card so we can contact her parents to inform them, or immediately rush her to a hospital." The operative spoke with absolute deference, his head bowed respectfully. The man who had inquired whether Fiyya was still alive took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. He checked his luxury wristwatch but remained completely silent. The operative added, "Sir, what about your high-profile meeting? I highly suggest you proceed to it immediately; we can handle..."
Part 2: Narrative & Subplot Breakdown
This fast-paced, high-stakes chapter advances multiple parallel storylines across politics, corporate espionage, underground criminality, and a dark, forced romance.
1. The Corporate & Political Nexus (The "FS Investment" Cipher)
The chapter opens with an intense political exchange between Hon. Maɗatai, Eng. Ali Wali, and Sharfaɗi at a mourning gathering for Ashraf. This sequence establishes that:
The FS World Investment Mystery: Before his sudden death, Ashraf manages to send a highly classified email to Fiyya. He warns her that five highly dangerous, anonymous global power-brokers own this investment firm. He explicitly names her father (Daddy) as a key player involved in this dangerous circle. The ultimate key to surviving this corporate warfare lies in decoding the acronym "FS".
2. The Forced Military Marriage
Despite Safiyyerh’s absolute devastation over the death of her fiancé, Daddy moves forward with a cold, protective strategy:
Aliyu’s Cold Persona: Captain Aliyu exhibits an intensely detached, almost sociopathic military discipline. When forced by Daddy to pick up an incapacitated, heavily medicated Fiyya from the hospital, he treats her with absolute disdain—even nudging the hospital bed with his foot rather than touching her gently.
3. Mutallab (Moh) & The Underground Extraction
In a dark contrast to the elite living rooms, Mutallab (Moh) is operating in the brutal criminal underworld:
The "A.M.A." Clue: The only clue left is a three-letter cipher—**A.M.A.**—linked to a specific hospital or hidden neighborhood. Moh also experiences a striking moment of recognition when he looks into the sky and realizes that Safiyyerh’s eyes look exactly like his tracking hound, Tiger.
4. The Targeted Ambush & Aliyu's Betrayal
The climax of the chapter brings Safiyyerh’s storyline into direct, violent collision with the corporate conspirators: