briefcase—a prosecuting attorney Sakina had hired within hours of leaving the hospital.
Ousman’s smile faltered, his teacup freezing halfway to his mouth. “Sakina? What is the meaning of this? And why is this woman here?” he spat, glaring at Tanti Awa.
“The meaning of this, Uncle, is that the theater is over,” Sakina said, her voice cutting through the morning air like glass.
She walked up to the table and slammed a heavy, thick manila folder right onto his plate, splashing hot tea across his clean white boubou.
“What is
