The Dice #42

“Since when did you start poking your nose into my business dealings?”
“Mom, this is not some business game, merger, acquisition, or cold profit projection. We are talking about human lives—wives, mothers, sisters, and aunties… not cows. Though these days, it feels like cows get more sympathy than missing women.”

“Tade, I do not have all morning to listen to your political speech on the failed state and how you and I sit on opposite sides of the fence, yet you benefit from the returns of my business and connections.”

Tade ran his hands through his low afro in frustration.
“I want Dunni rescued tonight. I’m unsure what the rescue team hired by her office is doing. We were told to back off, that they had it covered, but it’s been three days, and I’m going out of my mind.”

Their conversation was halted by a ruckus at the door, with the receptionist attempting to stop a man from entering.
“I’m so sorry, ma. He walked straight in after I asked if he had an appointment.”

Molade gazed at her receptionist in disgust. She’d deal with her later. She didn’t get to where she was by entertaining people who couldn’t do their jobs regardless of the obstacles.
“How can I help you?” she asked coolly, addressing the man like they had never met.

Tade stared at the man, trying to place the face—then it hit him. The man from the restaurant who acted strangely when he mentioned his mom. He watched his mother’s indifferent demeanour.

“To what do I owe the honour of your time and presence? Last, I remember, you wanted nothing to do with me.”
She was never going to tell him about the children. That ship had sailed when he threw her out of his office a few weeks ago.

“Dr Larry,” Tade stood up to greet him. “Fancy meeting you here. I didn’t know you knew my mother. I was just about to leave.” Turning to his mom and putting his hands together in a pleading gesture, “Do something for me.”

Molade nodded, grateful that Tade took the cue to leave. She had no intention of letting him know that the father they all believed was dead was, in fact, very much alive—especially since that father had wanted nothing to do with her. If they had survived all these years without him, they certainly didn’t need him now.

As soon as the door closed behind Tade, Molade asked sharply, “To what do I owe this visit? Last time we met, you wanted nothing to do with me.” She had no idea why he was there, but she wanted him gone faster than he barged in. She could only imagine the stress her receptionist was under. She’d have to have a serious conversation with her. Her time was up—she’d be transferred to another department. Such carelessness couldn’t be condoned, even if it wasn’t entirely her fault.

“I would’ve liked the young man to stay. This concerns him,” Lanre said.

Molade’s head snapped up from her screen. “Why would you want to talk to him?”

“Molade, I don’t have time for games. Why is Tade bearing my middle name and surname?”

Against her earlier decision not to tell him, she saw there was no point in pretending anymore. He’d figured it out.
“Because he is your son,” she said calmly, almost daring him to react.

Lanre sat down, stunned into silence. A thousand thoughts ran through his head. His heart raced. He had suspected it but didn’t want to believe it.

“He has a sister,” Molade added.

Lanre stared at her like she was mad. A sister? Was she trying to pin another child on him?

“Tade has a twin sister,” she clarified, reading the question in his eyes.

They hadn’t been together for over thirty years, but Molade knew Lanre like she knew herself—the slight twitch of his mouth when he was sceptical, the double blink in his left eye when he was processing information, the way his right brow arched when he finally understood. He had aged—salt-and-pepper hair and beard—but he was still the same handsome man she once loved. One day, he was gone—vanished. Her father later told her he was dead. Something in her died that day, too. It was the children who kept her sane while she threw herself into the family business to numb the grief.

“If you’re in doubt, do a DNA test.”

“Have you told them I’m alive, now that you know?”

“No. The way you threw me out of your office, I figured there was no point. They’ve survived without you till now. They can continue without you.”

The words cut deep. In one second, he was a father—not to one, but two grown children. Possibly even a grandfather. It was a lot.

“Did you ever try to visit my grave after they told you I was dead?”

“No,” Molade said quietly, realizing how foolish she’d been to trust her father blindly. He never accepted Lanre, the son of a cocoa farmer, into their elitist world.

Lanre had only come to confirm his suspicions, suspicions sparked when he saw Tade weeks ago. Two children, in their mid-thirties, whom he knew nothing about. But he couldn’t blame her entirely—he walked away. That she was told he was dead was his fault, too. He’d made no effort to contact her. She was dead to him then. But in cutting her off, he had lost so much more.

“When are you going to tell them? I’d like to meet them. Do you have a photo of the girl?”

Molade passed him her phone. The woman in the photo was stunning—a feminine version of the boy. He’d never have guessed they were his. While he trusted Molade wouldn’t lie about something so serious, he’d still do a DNA test. He couldn’t afford to pour his heart into a lie, not after losing so much time.

“These kids weren’t hidden. They’ve been on magazine covers, blogs—you name it. I’m surprised you never saw anything.”

“You were dead to me, Molade. I didn’t want to hear or see anything about the Thomas family. I stayed away—spent most of my time abroad, doing aid work. My work became my life.”

What he didn’t say was that work was his way of numbing the pain of losing her.

Molade winced. He must really hate her. And she couldn’t blame him. Her family had treated him horribly.

“When will you tell them?” Lanre asked again. “There’s no point delaying. I’ve already lost enough time.”

“Tade is going through hell right now. His fiancée was kidnapped.”

“Is that the girl who was with him when I saw him?”

“I suppose. Her name is Dunni. You delivered her.”

Lanre’s brows furrowed. “How’s that?”

“I saw her birth certificate. That’s how I found out you were alive.”

“Is that what happens now? People submit documents to marry into your family?”

“Not exactly,” she said, trying to deflect. “But we do our checks. You never know who’s coming in for love or for what they can get.”

“You learned from the best—your dad,” Lanre said dryly. Molade glared at him.

“That my father was wrong about you doesn’t mean there aren’t wolves out there.”

“This Dunni girl—what’s the situation?” Lanre asked, concern creeping into his voice.

Molade briefed him, leaving out her personal business involvement and the planned operation.

“We’ll have to wait until it’s over,” Lanre said, standing and handing her his card. “You can reach me on either number. I’ll be out of the country for the next few weeks, but let me know when it’s safe, and I’ll come back.”

Molade got up to walk him out, but Lanre waved her off.
“Don’t worry. And please, show that lady some mercy. There was nothing she could’ve done to stop me. I know how this works—and you’ve probably already decided to fire her. But for the sake of what we once shared, keep her. Sometimes, you win loyalty that way.”

Molade stood frozen. Who was Lanre to walk back into her life and start telling her how to run a business she’d built and sustained for over thirty years without him? The audacity.
But deep down, part of her smiled—because, somehow, he still cared.