The folder lands on the metal table with a flat, deliberate slap. I am Nyambura Mkhize — junior attorney, five years at Okeke & Associates, the kind of lawyer who arrives early and leaves last. And right now I am sitting in a Lagos police station on Lagos Island, watching two detectives watch me like they've already made up their minds. "Ms. Mkhize." The older one, Detective Adaora Bello — thick-set, reading glasses pushed up her nose — slides the top document toward me. "Your signature. Your name. Six property transactions totaling forty-eight million naira." I look at the page. My name is there. The signature looks almost like mine — the looping N, the way the K trails low. Almost. But not quite. I pick up the second document. The third. I'm not panicking yet. I'm reading, because that is what I do. I read. Then I see the date stamps. Every single transaction is dated a Tuesday. Six Tuesdays spread over eight months. I know exactly where I was on every Tuesday for the past year — standing in Courtroom Four of the Lagos High Court, representing Okeke & Associates clients. My name is in the court records. My face is on the CCTV. I set the folder down carefully. "These dates are all Tuesdays," I say. "I was in court. Check the court rolls." Detective Bello writes something. The younger one — thin, watchful, hasn't given his name — just stares. I reach for my phone and call Kwesi Okeke. My mentor. The founding partner who hired me straight out of law school, who called me his best investment, who told me last Thursday that I had a real future at the firm. It rings. And rings. He does not pick up. I call again. Same result. "Ms. Mkhize." Bello removes her glasses. "We have forty-eight hours before we file charges. I suggest you find representation." The word *charges* sits in my chest like swallowed glass. I look back down at the folder, flipping to the last page of each document the way a lawyer does — checking who authorized, who countersigned, whose firm letterhead runs along the top. Okeke & Associates. And at the bottom of every single fake page, in the clean authorizing signature block, is the name Kwesi Okeke. He signed off on all of it. He signed off on all of it, and then he let his phone ring.