Chapter 40: Tammy's Fury
Jeremiah's Penthouse.
The buzzing of Tammy's phone jolted her awake before the morning light had fully broken through the curtains. At first, she thought it was another blogger writing a sensational headline about her pregnancy—she'd grown numb to those after weeks of hearing her name tossed around like cheap gossip fodder. But when she opened her notifications and saw the flood of tags, screenshots, and posts, her stomach dropped so hard she thought she might throw up right there in bed.
Her face stared back at her from dozens of Instagram blogs, Twitter pages, and gossip sites. Except these weren't pictures from now. They weren't her at the gala with Jeremy, glowing in a designer gown, or the carefully captured press conference moments. No—these were old photos. From university. Grainy mirror selfies she'd taken when she was barely twenty, dressed in short skirts, crop tops, tongue out in half-drunken smiles with friends. One of them even showed her with a red cup in hand at a campus party, Jeremy nowhere in sight. The captions were cruel.
"So this is Jeremy Adebayo's new wife? She's nothing but a runs girl turned CEO's baby mama."
"Mother of triplets but used to be mother of Saturday night parties."
"You can't turn a girl like this into a wife material."
The words carved into her chest like knives.
Tammy sat frozen for a moment, clutching the phone so tightly her knuckles whitened. Then the shaking started, a mix of fury and embarrassment rolling into one storm. She slammed the phone down, hard enough to make it bounce off the duvet. Her breath came in uneven pulls, and before she knew it, she was crying—not from sadness this time, but from sheer rage.
This wasn't random. This wasn't coincidence. Someone had deliberately gone digging. Someone had sent those photos. And there was only one person she could think of who had enough motive.
But before she could let the suspicion solidify into words, Jeremy walked into the room, shirt half-buttoned, already on his second phone call of the morning. He stopped when he saw her.
"Tammy…" His voice softened immediately, but she cut him off with a glare sharp enough to kill.
"Don't," she hissed, voice trembling. "Don't you dare."
Jeremy closed the distance cautiously, like he was approaching a ticking bomb. "You saw them."
Her laugh came out brittle. "Saw them? They're everywhere! Everyone is reposting like it's their morning devotional. My mum has probably seen them. My old lecturers. My cousins. God—do you know how humiliating this is?"
"I know, Tammy—"
"Do you?" she snapped, rising from the bed with sudden energy. Her hair was messy, her eyes swollen, but the fire in her tone could've burned down the entire estate. "Because this is my face plastered all over blogs with captions calling me a slut. This is my reputation, my name, my future. And the funny part? Those photos didn't just magically appear. Someone leaked them. Someone close. Someone who has access."
Jeremy's jaw clenched. She saw it—the way his eyes flickered briefly, a flash of calculation, maybe even guilt. And that was enough for her rage to spiral.
"Oh my God," she whispered, taking a step back. "It was you."
Jeremy's eyes widened. "What?"
"You think I can't put two and two together?" Tammy's voice cracked. "You think I don't see the timing? You—Mr. Image Control, Mr. Press Conference—what better way to make me feel small, to remind me that without you I'm just that girl from university parties, hm? You leaked them so I'd agree to whatever you and your precious grandmother want with this marriage."
Jeremy's phone slipped from his hand, hitting the carpet with a dull thud. "Tammy, stop. That's not true."
"Isn't it?"
"No!" His voice thundered through the room, making her flinch. He dragged a hand across his face, pacing like a caged animal. "I would never humiliate you like this. Never. Do you honestly think I'd stand in front of the world, defend you, fight every headline, and then turn around and ruin you? That's insane."
But her anger had already settled into suspicion. The betrayal tasted too bitter to swallow. "Then explain it," she demanded. Her tears had dried into steel. "Explain how private pictures from years ago suddenly land on blogs the exact week your family starts whispering about traditional marriage. Explain why it feels like every single thing around me is orchestrated. And don't you dare tell me it's coincidence."
Jeremy stopped pacing. His chest rose and fell, the weight of her accusations pressing hard. He looked at her for a long, heavy moment, then shook his head.
"Someone in this house," he said finally, voice low but certain. "That's the only explanation. Someone in this house is feeding the media."
Tammy blinked. Her anger faltered for just a second, replaced by confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"I've had suspicions for weeks," Jeremy confessed, shoulders rigid. "First, the pregnancy leaks. Then, the photos. Too specific, too invasive. This isn't paparazzi following us. This is someone with access to information and the right timing. And it's not me."
Tammy's lips trembled. She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to. But the fury inside her wasn't so easily silenced. "Do you even know what people are saying?" she whispered, almost broken. "They're tearing me apart, Jeremy. They're calling me every disgusting name under the sun. And I can't even defend myself because—because maybe they're right. Maybe I was stupid, careless, messy. Maybe I don't deserve to be anyone's wife, least of all yours."
"Stop." Jeremy crossed the space in two strides, gripping her shoulders firmly. His eyes burned into hers, steady, unflinching. "You listen to me, Tammy. You don't let them define you. Those photos don't tell the story of who you are now. They don't erase your worth. And they sure as hell don't change how I see you."
Her throat tightened, and for the first time since the storm started, her eyes softened just a fraction. But the anger was still there, simmering.
She pulled away, hugging herself. "You say that now. But what about tomorrow? When another scandal drops? When your investors call? When your grandmother whispers that I'll ruin everything you've built? Will you still see me the same way?"
Jeremy didn't hesitate. "Yes."
But Tammy didn't answer. She turned her back to him, staring out the wide glass window where the Lagos skyline stretched in the morning haze. Her phone buzzed again on the bed—another headline, another wound. She didn't pick it up.
Behind her, Jeremy's voice lowered. "I'll find out who did this, Tammy. I swear it. And when I do, they'll regret ever thinking they could break you."
She stayed silent, arms wrapped tight around her belly, protecting the tiny lives growing inside her. Protecting herself. Because right now, trust felt like a luxury she couldn't afford.
And Jeremy, for all his promises, was still just one more man in a world that seemed hell-bent on watching her burn.