The **UNDER OFFER** sign hung at the entrance the next morning as if the decision had already been made.
Amina walked beneath it without touching it. Yusuf waited outside court with two folders—one containing certified copies, the other their working papers. Mariam arrived a few minutes later, moving faster than usual.
“Salim is inside,” she said.
“And the buyer?”
“His representative.”
Yusuf inhaled slowly. “One thing to remember. We are asking for time and protection of the property. We are not asking the court to decide the whole fraud issue today.”
Amina nodded.
Before they were called, Mariam sat on a corridor bench with her affidavit on her lap. She had read it three times. Each time she reached the paragraph admitting that she had approved payments without full information, she stopped.
“If I sign this, my brothers and sisters will say I have admitted I was a fool.”
Amina did not offer easy comfort. “Did you sign some approvals?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know everything?”
“No.”
“Then that is your statement.”
“Can't you at least say I was deceived?”
“I cannot prove every word you were told on each day. And I don't want your affidavit to sound good for me. I want it to be yours.”
Mariam looked down at the page for a long moment, then signed. Yusuf made sure the witnessing was completed properly.
Salim saw them in the corridor and walked directly to his sister.
“You know what this will do?”
Mariam held the folder with both hands. “Maybe for the first time.”
During the hearing, Bahari Crown's representative stressed that the company had paid a deposit in good faith.
“We were given warranties that the seller had authority and that vacant possession would be available,” he said.
Yusuf did not accuse the buyer of being part of Salim's scheme. He argued only that authority was disputed, tenancy interests had not been fully addressed, significant accounting questions remained, and any deposit funds needed protection until those questions were reviewed.
That mattered to Amina. Bahari Crown might have been opportunistic. That did not automatically make it the source of every wrong.
The judge asked why Amina's analysis should be trusted over the family's existing records.
“It should not be trusted more than the records,” Amina said. “That is why I am asking for an independent review.”
Salim stared at her as though she had surrendered an advantage.
Then Mariam's affidavit became part of the application. It contained truths she could easily have hidden: she had signed some approvals relying on Salim's explanations, she had not been fully informed of Kisiwa Heritage's related-party connection, and she had never given final consent to the sale under the registered variation.
Salim leaned close to her before final attestation.
“Mariam, if you do this, you are choosing family shame because of a child who abandoned us.”
Amina felt her stomach tighten.
Mariam did not look at her daughter. She looked at Salim.
“The family was already damaged by secrets,” she said. “The papers only show what we did.”
Then she signed.
That minute changed more than the application. Seven years earlier, Mariam had chosen silence in front of relatives. Today she placed her own name beneath a statement that might embarrass her.
The judge did not deliver the grand victory some people expected. There was no finding that Salim had stolen money. There was no declaration that Nyumba ya Taa could never be sold.
Instead the judge asked about authority, timing, tenant rights, and the reliability of the accounts. Then the court issued a seven-day temporary injunction preventing completion of the transfer and ordered an independent audit of rental income, debts, and payments connected to Kisiwa Heritage.
“And the deposit?” Yusuf asked.
The buyer's representative said it had already been transferred.
“To what account?”
There was a hesitation.
When the answer came, Amina wrote it in capital letters.
The deposit had not gone into the estate account.
It had gone into an account controlled by the company Salim had used in negotiating the sale.
That did not prove theft. But the risk of the money disappearing was no longer theoretical.
Outside, two relatives aligned with Salim passed Mariam without greeting her. She sat on the corridor bench, exhausted.
Amina sat one chair away.
“Mama.”
“Don't tell me you're happy.”
“I wasn't going to.”
Mariam laughed weakly. “I'm fifty-six years old. Today I discovered you can do the right thing and still feel terrible.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that seven years ago?”
Amina looked at her hands. “I knew doing what you thought was right could make you leave home.”
Mariam opened her mouth, then closed it.
Yusuf approached carrying a copy of the order. “The independent auditor will be appointed today. We start tomorrow.”
Salim stood several meters away speaking angrily on the phone. When he saw Amina, he lowered it.
“Seven days. That's all you bought.”
Amina lifted the order. “Yes. Seven days for someone else to look at the numbers.”
“And if they say you were wrong?”
“Then I correct my work.”
Salim had not expected that answer.
“I don't need to be right on every line,” Amina added. “I need the accounts to be right.”
The court required the new auditor to begin independently and treat Amina's work as source material, not as a conclusion. Amina liked that. Salim seemed to think it would embarrass her.
The order also stopped further completion steps during the injunction period. When Bahari Crown asked for clarification about its deposit, Amina requested the remittance advice through the court process so the destination account would not remain a matter of recollection. Back at Nyumba ya Taa, Zulekha had stored the UNDER OFFER sign instead of throwing it away. ‘Keep your evidence,’ she said. Amina corrected her automatically: for now it was a record of what had happened, not an exhibit. Zulekha shook her head. ‘Even your memories need categories.’
Daniel Kori was proposed from a list of professionals.
“Do you know him?” Yusuf asked.
“Only by reputation.”
“Good?”
“Better than knowing him personally.”
That evening Amina reopened every spreadsheet and added a cover note:
**These schedules are preliminary and contain assumptions identified herein.**
Tomorrow a person with no history with Salim, Mariam, Saada, or Amina would test her work from the beginning.
It was exactly what she had asked for.
It frightened her almost as much as losing the injunction.