QUIET PROMISE- Ep 19

Episode 19- Tammy’s Ex

Jul 14, 2026

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The curtains in Tammy’s apartment were only half-drawn, letting in a sharp, silver slice of the Lagos sun that cut across the cool parlor. She sat at her small dining table, an untouched cup of green tea steaming faintly next to her tablet, her mind already running through her schedule for the week.

She picked up her phone, scrolled through her contacts until she found Femi’s name, and hit the dial button. It rang twice before Femi’s voice came through, clear, sharp, and completely awake, though the distant, rhythmic hum of Lagos traffic suggested he was already on the move.

“Hey, Tam Tam! I was about to call you,” Femi said.

“I’m already on my way to the address you texted me on WhatsApp.”

Tammy smiled, leaning back in her chair.

“Good morning, Femi. Alright. I was just calling to make sure you didn’t forget the meeting with Setto today.”

“Forget? Please,” Femi scoffed lightly, a quiet chuckle coming through the line.

“I already looked through the document you sent over. I have been able to restructure a few things in the tax layout. The central bank won’t even find a single loose thread to pull when I’m done presenting.”

“Perfect. He’s expecting you, I trust you to do well.” Tammy said, a genuine note of pride in her voice.

The moment she hung up, she immediately dialed Setto’s line.

Over in the pristine penthouse suite of the Bello company, Setto’s phone vibrated against the desk. He picked it up, his rugged features softening the instant he saw the caller ID. He swiped across the screen and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hi, babyyy,” Setto murmured, his voice dropping into that low, unhurried register he reserved strictly for her.

Across the desk, curled up in one of his visitors’ leather chairs with her legs tucked under her, Koda let out a loud, deeply irritated hiss.

She rolled her eyes so hard she practically stared at the ceiling, her silver bangles clattering sharply against the armrest as she shifted her weight.

Setto didn’t break his stride on the phone, but his eyes snapped toward his sister, pinning her with a hard, warning look. Koda didn’t care.

She simply stared back at him, her chin tilted up in pure defiance. She had never liked Tammy— never liked how easily the woman had walked into Setto’s carefully guarded life and rewritten his routines.

“Femi is on his way,” Tammy said on the other end. “He should be at the office before 10:00 AM.”

“That’s great,” Setto replied, keeping his steady gaze fixed on Koda, who was now deliberately tracing an invisible, aggressive pattern on her dress to ignore him.

“I’ll be expecting him. Did you get the perfume I sent over to your place yesterday?”

A soft laugh came from Tammy’s end.

“I did. I’m actually wearing it right now. I love it, darling.”

“That’s good,” Setto said softly, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

“How are you feeling today? Did you sleep well?”

“I slept beautifully. Let me not distract you from your work. Take care of yourself and don’t stress too much, okay?”

“Alright, princess. Speak to you later.” Setto dropped the phone back onto the desk and let out a long, slow breath.

He leaned back in his chair, his hands flat on the desk as he looked at his younger sister.

“Koda, what is your problem this morning?” Setto asked, his tone completely flat.

“You’ve been sitting there throwing tantrums like a child. Why exactly are you here?”

Koda dropped her feet to the floor, sitting up straight and adjusting the strap of her outfit.

“It’s barely 9:00 AM and you’re already doing ‘hi baby’ on a Monday morning. It’s exhausting, bro. But that’s not why I’m here.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the wood.

“I’m here because I need you to call Tunde. I need him for my gallery.”

Setto frowned, leaning his head back slightly.

“Tunde? Tunde is in London. What does he have to do with your gallery?”

“His uncle is the chairman of the board for the national museum complex,” Koda said, her voice rising.

“My contemporary African exhibition is next month. The administrative staff at the museum are playing games with my booking. They are telling me the secondary hall is undergoing ‘unscheduled maintenance,’ which is just code for ‘we want a bribe.’ If I don’t get that space, half of my large-scale canvas pieces won’t even fit in the building.”

“So write an official petition to the board,” Setto said smoothly, picking up his pen with practiced efficiency.

“You have a registered gallery, Koda. Follow the due process.”

“Due process takes six months in this country and you know it!” Koda snapped, throwing her hands up, her jewelry clinking furiously.

“Why must everything be a lecture with you? You businessmen spend the whole day leveraging connections over lunches and golf games, but the moment I ask you to use your network to help me, it becomes a crime. It’s just one phone call, Setto. Just tell Tunde to ask his uncle to clear the bureaucratic nonsense.”

Setto watched her for a long moment, his expression completely unreadable.

“It’s not about the phone call, Koda. It’s about you learning how to navigate these institutions without expecting a family intervention every time you hit a wall.”

“I am hitting a wall because of corruption, not because of a lack of talent,” Koda muttered, sinking back into the deep leather chair, her lips puckered into a hard pout.

“If it was Tammy asking you to help her out, you would have gotten up from that chair yourself.”

Setto’s jaw tightened instantly. “Leave Tammy out of this.”

His phone vibrated on the desk. He looked at it, stood up and pulled his suit straight.

“Koda, I have to quickly drop down to the fourth floor to sign off on a clearance manifest before the managers leave. When I get back, we’ll talk about Tunde.”

“Okay,” she muttered, adjusting her silver bangles as he walked out, the oak door clicking shut behind him.

The silence of the penthouse office rushed back in, punctuated only by the low hum of the air conditioning. Koda slumped back against the leather sofa, staring at her nails, still irritated by the whole morning.

A few minutes later, the door handle turned.

Koda expected Setto, but instead, Linda, the secretary, stepped into the room, followed closely by Femi.

He was impeccably put together in his navy-blue suit, a laptop bag held under his arm.

The subtle, rich scent of his cologne— something sharp, woody, and expensive, flooded the sterile office air before he even spoke.

As they crossed the threshold, Femi’s eyes instantly caught Koda on the sofa.

“Good morning, Koda,” he said, offering a warm, easy smile.

Koda didn’t even turn her neck. She looked straight ahead at the wall, lifting her chin slightly, snubbing him completely.

Linda looked around, realizing Setto hadn’t returned yet.

“Mr. Bello stepped down for a quick manifestation review, Mr. Femi,” Linda said politely, gesturing toward the seating area.

“He asks that you please take a seat. He will be up in less than five minutes.”

“No problem at all, Linda. Thank you,” Femi replied.

Linda nodded and withdrew, closing the door behind her.

The moment the latch clicked shut, the silence in the room stretched tense.

Femi strolled over, entirely unbothered by the frost radiating from her side of the room, and took the chair directly across from the coffee table. He settled in, placing his laptop bag neatly on the floor.

“You didn’t respond to my greeting earlier. I guess you didn’t hear me. Good morning, Koda.” Femi repeated.

“Is it a must for me to answer you?” Koda snapped suddenly, turning her head to glare at him.

Her voice carried that unmistakable underlying Northern accent beneath her vowels that Femi found a bit captivating.

She was crossing her arms tightly, trying desperately to mask the sudden, irregular flutter blooming in her chest.

Femi burst into a soft, quiet chuckle, leaning his elbow on the armrest and resting his chin on his knuckles.

He found her dramatic theatrics completely endearing.

“A must? Not at all. But it is polite. Last time I checked, a simple good morning doesn’t cost anything.”

“Well, my morning was going perfectly well until you walked in,” she muttered, turning her nose up.

Against her own will, however, her eyes kept slipping sideways, tracking his profile.

She found her gaze lingering on the ridiculously sharp, clean line of his jawline. His skin was smooth, carrying that healthy, luminous glow of someone who lived entirely in temperate weather and filtered rooms, completely untouched by the harsh Lagos sun. It was infuriating how attractive he was, and it made her angrier.

“You’ve been remarkably hostile to me since the first day we met, Koda,” Femi said, his voice dropping into a calmer, softer register that seemed to vibrate in the quiet space.

His eyes scanned her features, the elegant, pointed line of her nose, and the small, sharply defined lips that emphasized her Fulani heritage so beautifully.

“Why is that? Did I do something to offend you?”

Koda shifted uncomfortably, her bangles jingling aggressively. She wanted to poke at him, to find a way to push him back out of her space.

“I am just wondering how your girlfriend even condones this incredibly smug, snobbish attitude of yours. She must have the patience of a saint.”

Femi’s smile widened, a playfulness entering his eyes.

“Smug and snobbish? That’s ironic, considering you have been coming at me since we met. But if you’re trying to find out if there’s a girlfriend somewhere, you can rest your mind. I’m actually single.”

Koda’s cheeks flared with a sudden, hot wave of blood.

She hissed loudly, looking away toward the windows to hide the sudden flutter in her throat.

“Find out? For what? What is my business with your relationship status? Please, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Then why ask?” Femi replied smoothly.

Koda turned back to him, her eyes flashing with a disdainful look, even though a deep, unexplained curiosity was clawing at her.

“I asked because I want to know exactly why you’re always hanging around. You’re Tammy’s ex, aren’t you? I just find it hilarious and completely suspicious that you’re here working with my brother.”

Femi shook his head slowly, his expression softening into genuine amusement.

“Tammy’s ex? So that’s what you think.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, bringing himself closer into her space.

“For your information, we never dated. We are just friends.”

He studied her face, watching the way her small lips parted slightly as she processed the information.

“But it’s interesting how much trouble you took to think about my past.”

“I did not think about your past!” Koda muttered, her voice rising in defense as she felt her breath cutting remarkably short.

His proximity was doing something terrible to her senses. The woody, rich notes of his perfume felt like a physical weight in her chest, making it hard to think.

“Hmmmm,” Femi murmured, his eyes locking onto hers with a quiet weight.

“I really do wonder why such a beautiful woman has such a bad mouth.”

Koda’s head snapped back around, her heart hammering violently against her ribs.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he whispered.

Femi didn’t back down.

The bickering completely died away, replaced by a thick, heavy silence that hung between them.

For a long, suspended moment, neither of them moved. Koda found herself completely trapped, lost in the steady warmth of his gaze, her breath catching entirely in her throat.

The door swung open with a sudden bang.

The spell shattered instantly. Both of them recoiled, Femi shifting back into his chair while Koda snapped her head away, her chest heaving as she tried to force her breathing back to normal.

Setto walked back into the office, a set of signed documents in his hand.

He stopped mid-stride, his eyes darting between the two of them. Femi was clearing his throat, adjusting his suit jacket, while Koda was breathing remarkably hard, her face flushed a deep crimson.

“Koda?” Setto frowned, his tone flat.

“What is wrong with you? Are you fine?”

Koda stood up abruptly, letting out a loud, defensive hiss that vibrated through the room.

“Nothing is wrong with me, Setto! Just do your meeting!”

She marched past Femi without looking at him, practically throwing herself onto the far sofa near the window, her back turned to them completely.

Setto stared at her for a moment longer, shook his head at her dramatic behavior, and walked back to his desk.

“Hello, Mr. Bello. Thank you for inviting me over,” Femi said, his voice instantly transitioning back to a smooth, professional register as he stretched out his hand.

Setto extended his hand across the desk.

“Mr. Femi. Good to see you. Please have a seat. Glad the traffic didn’t hold you back on the bridge.”

“It was tight, but we managed,” Femi said, shaking Setto’s hand with a firm grip. He took the leather chair across from the desk, opening his laptop.

“Great. So what do you have for me?” Setto demanded.

Femi pulled up a trade chart and turned the screen toward Setto.

“Mr. Bello, the current plan your previous consultants gave you for the South African transit is a tax trap. They suggested routing the money directly into your local accounts as an investment. If you do that, the government will flag it under capital flight regulations, and you’ll be hit with a fifteen percent withholding tax immediately.”

Setto leaned forward, his eyes locking onto the screen.

“A fifteen percent hit destroys our margin. What’s the alternative?”

“We utilize your Mauritian holding company,” Femi explained simply, keeping the professional talk clear and direct.

“The Mauritius company buys the heavy-duty trucks directly from the manufacturer. Your local firm here then leases the fleet from Mauritius. You pay a nominal lease fee, which counts as an operational expense.”

Setto’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“That shifts the cash flow from an investment influx to an operational expense.”

“Exactly,” Femi nodded.

“An operational expense cuts your local tax exposure down to less than four percent. It keeps the capital movement entirely within international compliance, meaning the Central Bank cannot touch it, and the South African reserve bank will clear it without a single query.”

Setto spent the next few minutes reviewing the numbers, throwing a couple of minor questions about currency fluctuations at Femi, but Femi countered each one effortlessly.

“Clean,” Setto finally said, leaning back in his chair with a deep sense of satisfaction.

“This is exactly what I needed before the 5:00 PM board meeting.”

“Glad to help,” Femi said, closing his laptop and standing up.

He buttoned his suit jacket with a quick flick of his wrist.

“I have to rush now, Mr. Bello. I have another client meeting over at Victoria Island soon.”

“No problem. I’ll call you soon with the final decision from the directors,” Setto said, rising to accompany him to the door.

Femi stepped out into the reception lobby, purposefully not casting a single glance back at the corner of the room.

The door clicked shut, leaving the office completely quiet once more. Setto stood by the doorway, while a sharp hiss broke the silence from the far sofa.

Setto turned around. Koda was standing up, her arms crossed tightly.

“Big bro, I don’t understand you at all. Why on earth are you working with that boy? He is Tammy’s ex, also he is arrogant and has too much attitude.”

Setto walked back to his desk and sat down, a small, amused expression appearing on his face.

“The ‘boy’ just saved this company millions in tax exposure in less than half an hour. And he is not Tammy’s ex, Koda. They are just friends. I have a right to work with whoever I want.”

Koda rolled her eyes dramatically, tossing her head back with a loud scoff.

“Whatever! I just don’t like him.”

Setto leaned back, a low smile breaking through his features.

“Koda... is there actually anyone in this world that you ever like? Apart from your paintbrushes?”

Koda froze, a small, reluctant smile cracking through her frown as she let out a short laugh.

“I actually like you, dad, mom and all our siblings.”

“You see, you need help.” Setto laughed.

Koda turned her head back toward the glass window, completely ignoring her brother’s teasing.

Her mind was racing, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake it. Femi’s symmetrical face, the sharp, irritatingly perfect line of his jaw, and that intoxicating, woody scent of his perfume were completely stuck in her head.

Even though he had walked out minutes ago, the air around her still felt heavy with his presence.

She vigorously shook her head, pressing her fingers against her temples in frustration.

Gosh, I seriously think I have issues with my head, she thought to herself, furious at her own reflection in the glass. I need to get my brain examined.