Chioma and Isaac settled into their small apartment on the outskirts of town. The walls were cracked, the roof leaked when it rained, and the neighborhood was noisy, but it was safer than Sochi's house.
Chioma began selling food by the roadside to survive. Every morning before sunrise, she prepared akara and pap, while Isaac helped arrange the small wooden table. Though they had little, Isaac never complained. There was something different about him now — a quiet strength in his eyes.
One evening, as Chioma was arranging old clothes in a small box, she discovered a brown envelope hidden inside one of Emeka's old jackets. Her hands froze.
Inside the envelope were photocopies of documents. Business agreements. Property papers. And one sealed letter addressed to her.
Her heart pounded as she opened it.
"My beloved Chioma," the letter began. "If you are reading this, it means something has happened to me. I know my family. I know what they are capable of. That is why I have secured some of my properties and assets in your name and in Isaac's name. Trust no one. The original documents are with Barrister Okoye. Go to him."
Chioma's body trembled.
Barrister Okoye.
Emeka's trusted lawyer.
Tears filled her eyes — not of sorrow this time, but of hope.
The next morning, she dressed Isaac neatly and took a bus to the city to find the lawyer's office. The building was tall and intimidating. For a moment, she hesitated. What if it was too late? What if the documents meant nothing?
But she remembered Isaac's dream.
"I am a lion."
She stepped inside.
After explaining who she was, she was led into the lawyer's office. The elderly man removed his glasses slowly when he heard her name.
"I have been expecting you," he said calmly.
Chioma's breath caught.
Barrister Okoye opened a safe behind his desk and brought out a thick file. "Your husband was a wise man. He transferred three major properties, a company share, and a foreign account into a trust under Isaac's name. Legally, no one can take them."
Chioma could not speak.
"All this time…" she whispered.
The lawyer nodded. "Your husband knew there would be trouble."
News travels fast.
Within days, Sochi heard that Chioma had visited the lawyer. Panic began to grow in her heart. She had believed Chioma was finished. She had believed the battle was over.
But she underestimated a mother protecting her child.
Soon, a formal letter was delivered to the family house. It stated clearly that several properties they had claimed did not legally belong to them.
A court date was set.
Sochi was furious. Her son clenched his fists in anger. "We cannot let them take everything back," he said.
But the law was no longer on their side.
On the day of the court hearing, Chioma walked in with quiet confidence. She wore a simple dress, but her head was held high. Isaac walked beside her.
He was no longer the weak child who cried in confusion. His eyes were steady. Observant.
Like a lion.
The judge reviewed the documents carefully. The signatures were authentic. The transfers were valid. The trust was real.
The ruling was clear.
The properties and assets legally belonged to Isaac.
Sochi's face lost color.
For the first time since Emeka's death, Chioma felt justice breathe again.
But as they stepped outside the courtroom, Isaac looked up at his mother and said softly, "Mummy… this is not the end."
Chioma looked at him carefully.
He was right.
Because wounded pride is more dangerous than open hatred.
And somewhere in the shadows, Sochi was already planning her next move.