The next day, following the leak, the new compound location buzzed with unrest. The team had barely finished getting settled when the new video set the network ablaze. News sources now use the term "controversial" to describe Mira. Some called her an accessory to immoral tests before she blew the whistle. Others said it was fake news; deepfakes meant to shatter the Veilbreakers from within. But for Laila, the video was an open wound. She sat by herself in the provisional command center, looking at the frozen image on the tablet; her mother's face, exhausted, but unyielding. She had not spoken to anyone since the video appeared. Not even Cassian. Not even Kemi. It was Tobi who came over in the end. "Kaima checked the metadata. It's genuine. The clip isn't forged." Laila didn't glance at him. "I know." He hesitated. "That doesn't mean she wasn't trying to stop it." "I know that too." She stood, her shoulders squared. "Prepare the livestream." Tobi blinked. "You're speaking today?" "Yes," she said. "No edits. No script." "That's risky." "It's necessary." The feed went live at 9:00 AM sharp. Laila stood before a beige background. Low and firm, her voice. "You've seen the video. The majority of you have been deceived. The majority of you are uncertain. Some of you are wondering whether our fight is based on something false." She paused. "The truth is: it's based on something broken. And broken things aren't always beautiful when truth arrives." She held up Chapter Five's locket; Mira's. "My mom tried to expose a system that thrived on silence. She wasn't perfect. Neither are any of us. But if you think this movement falls apart because she was once in the system, then you've got everything wrong." She allowed the silence to hang, weighing the weight of what she had said. "This isn't about a perfect symbol. It's about a soiled reality. And if Mira Okoye, with her own imperfections, needed to burn that system from the inside out, then I prefer to view what she initiated through." The response was immediate. Thousands tuned in. Some angry. Some rallied. And some are newly conscious of the movement. Donations poured in once again. A trending hashtag: #TruthIsLayered. Cassian approached her later. He said nothing, only placed a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you," he said. She nodded once. "We are not here to be popular. We are here to be heard." But outside the compound, things were shifting. Obasi's men had not disappeared. They had adapted. Yemisi tracked encrypted conversations indicating a counter-strategy; a digital flood meant to overwrite the Veilbreakers' message with noise, misinformation, and distractions. "A hundred bot accounts already posted counter-narratives. Some are mimicking your voice, your tone," she explained. Kaima added, "They've even hired influencers to discredit you. Fake exposés. Manufactured 'witnesses.'" Cassian stepped forward. "We'll strike back." "No," said Laila. "We stand up instead." He frowned. "What are you saying?" "We don't fight noise with noise. We testify for the ones who are still hiding. Real survivors. Real names." She fixed Kemi with a glare. "Line up ten accounts. From different parts of the country. All real. All ready to speak." Kemi agreed. "Give me until dusk." By evening, the new series debuted. These accounts came this time from elderly victims. Survivors of the early years, those silenced years before Mira even started her work. One was an old woman who went quietly on camera. "I disappeared for two years when I was sixteen. My parents were told that I had died from malaria. But I was taken. Exploited. Then I came home." She rolled up her sleeve; scars ran along her arms. "I tell this story not because I need sympathy. But because someone has to tell it." By midnight, the mood had shifted again. Obasi's machines couldn't match human voices. And then something amazing happened. An anonymous new file appeared. Video of Mira confronting the very same doctor from the initial video; this time with timestamps and audio. "You said these tests were sanctioned. That the children were volunteers," she said to him. "They were," the man lied. "Stop the program," she demanded. He chuckled. "We both know you won't. Your name's already on this." Mira stood up, struggling to breathe. "I'll make sure it isn't." She stormed out. And the recording ended. Kaima breathed softly, "That video exonerates her." "It humanizes her," Cassian inserted. Laila took a deep breath. "Then we use it." Chapter Ten ends with Laila releasing the final footage of Mira: raw, naked, determined. And below it, she writes: ' This is who she was. Not perfect. But brave enough to unlearn. Brave enough to resist. Behind the ivory veil of her legacy, there was truth.'"
