Olaedo's voice cracked again, reaching him through the noise, and he looked at her, searching for any trace of deceit, any flicker of guilt. "You all don't understand. I never sent those messages with any intention to hurt the family. Maduabuchi, he was someone I let go. I never intended for any of this to come back. Please, believe me—"
"Enough," Ifeoma hissed, her face set in an expression of pure fury, eyes glistening with a mixture of hurt and anger. The room hushed, waiting for Chibuzor's response, eyes darting between him and the woman who stood on the verge of breaking.
The silence grew heavy, pressing down on Chibuzor like a weight. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. What was he supposed to say? That he wanted to believe her? That part of him still hoped she was telling the truth, despite the evidence on display? The truth felt slippery, impossible to grasp. And it gnawed at him.
The murmur of voices rose again, a wave of doubt and speculation, but Chibuzor stayed silent, a storm brewing beneath his stony exterior, as the room waited for his next move.
Olaedo stepped forward, her heart pounding like a war drum as the eyes of the room fixed on her. The weight of judgment, of whispers and gasps, pressed down on her. She had fought so hard to be here, to prove herself worthy of this place, and now, with one unfounded accusation, it felt as if everything she had built was crumbling.
Her voice trembled but remained resolute as she spoke, the tremor only adding to the rawness of her words. "Yes, those messages are real, but they were sent months before I even met Chibuzor. I've had no contact with Maduabuchi since then!"
The silence that followed seemed to stretch into infinity, and then, a snide laugh sliced through it. The man standing on stage, Maduabuchi's best friend, smirked, eyes glinting with satisfaction as he pointed at her. "Convenient excuse, isn't it? But the truth is plain to see."
Olaedo's blood surged with indignation, the bitterness of betrayal mixing with her confusion. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her skin as she fought for composure. How had it come to this? How had a carefully laid plan to humiliate her been executed so effortlessly?
She straightened, lifting her chin with a strength that surprised even her. "Enough Adamu!" she snapped, her voice cracking like a whip across the room. The harshness of her tone sent a shiver through the crowd, making some step back in surprise. "You've twisted this narrative to humiliate me, but I will not let you tarnish my name without a fight!"
A murmur of approval rolled through some of the guests, the ones who were still willing to believe in her. A few servants exchanged glances, their earlier doubts clouded by the spark of defiance in Olaedo's eyes.
But others, like Ifeoma, shifted uncomfortably, the doubt planted in her mind taking root and growing with each passing second. The room was thick with tension, the kind that left everyone holding their breath, waiting for the next move.
Adamu's smile deepened, a triumphant glint in his eyes.
Chibuzor's silence was a storm in itself, louder and more painful than any accusation that had been hurled at Olaedo. His eyes, dark and unreadable, swept over the room, taking in every face, every whispered word.
The subtle shifts in the crowd, the gasps, the shifting of eyes, the hushed murmurs, felt like a suffocating blanket pressing down on Olaedo, forcing her to the brink of collapse.
Her fingers tightened into fists, nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to breathe, though it burned her chest. 'Why won't he say anything?' The question echoed in her mind, taunting and merciless.
'Does he believe this too?' The thought cut deeper than the accusations themselves, twisting the knife in her heart. The room seemed to blur, but she blinked away the tears threatening to spill.
The room, once filled with electric anticipation, fell into a heavy silence when Chibuzor finally stood. His movements were measured, almost deliberate, as he rose to his full height, the air around him crackling with suppressed power.
The murmur of the guests died down, every single eye fixed on him, awaiting his words. His gaze, sharp and cutting, swept across the room like a predator assessing its prey.
Chibuzor's voice, when it came, was as cold and sharp as steel, slicing through the tension and turning it into an almost tangible presence. "We will not discuss this any further in front of outsiders," he said, each word deliberate, a command that brooked no argument.
A sharp intake of breath sounded from the back of the room, and whispers broke out anew, this time tinged with awe and curiosity. The sheer weight of Chibuzor's authority left the guests stunned, their eyes flicking between him and the woman who stood at the center of the storm.
Some exchanged knowing glances, their expressions a mix of speculation and intrigue. It was rare for Chibuzor to speak with such conviction, and even rarer for him to assert his control so publicly. He usually kept silent, with the mindset that nothing was worth his expensive words.
Mr. Arinze stood next to Chibuzor, his face drawn tight with the strain of the situation. He glanced at his wife, who seemed to wear a triumphant, almost gloating expression, before clearing his throat and stepping forward. The room stilled again, the sharpness of the moment hanging in the air like a blade poised to strike.
"Enough," Mr. Arinze said, his voice deep and authoritative, but with an undertone of exhaustion. "This is a family matter."
Murmurs of discontent shifted through the crowd like a wave, but the weight of his words stilled them, the realization dawning that the Arinze family would not tolerate such public scrutiny.
Some of the older guests, who knew the family's reputation for handling their affairs with an iron hand, shifted uncomfortably.