Salim had not chosen Bahari View by accident.
The waiter knew him by name. The manager came over to greet him. Their table sat beside a broad sea-facing window, far enough from the others to make every conversation feel private.
Salim wanted Amina to remember that Mombasa contained people who knew him, not her.
“You used to like the prawns here when you were little,” he said.
“I don't remember.”
“Because Nairobi taught you to forget.”
Amina did not touch the bait. She opened her notebook and placed a pen across it.
“I came for your explanation of Kisiwa Heritage.”
Salim talked about contractors who demanded immediate payment, suppliers who produced poor paperwork, broken pipes, leaking roofs, and repairs that required one person to make decisions quickly. Some of what he said was plausible. Amina wrote all of it down, including the explanations that helped him.
“So the company provided management?”
“Yes.”
“And repairs?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why does one beneficiary contact trace back to your phone number?”
Salim pulled his water glass closer. “I helped set up the arrangements.”
“An arrangement is not an ownership trail.”
When the food arrived, Salim changed tactics. He spoke about Saada. About the years the family had helped pay for Amina's education. About people already whispering that she had returned after a death to divide property. Then he mentioned that she could receive a professional fee from the sale.
Amina put down her fork. “Approved by whom?”
“I can have it approved.”
“That's the problem.”
For the first time, Salim's warmth disappeared.
“Don't pretend you're cleaner than your own family.”
“I haven't. I'm refusing to be paid so I read the numbers the way you want.”
His finger tapped the table once. “You see corruption in everything.”
“I didn't say corruption. I said no.”
Salim unlocked his phone and slid a screenshot of a proposed distribution toward her. “I've spoken to others. If you sign within two days, I can make sure your professional fee is generous. Beyond that, a small percentage of the sale could go to you as compensation for the work and—”
Amina lifted one hand.
“Don't call it compensation.”
“It's normal for a family to thank someone.”
“After the report?”
“Why must you make everything difficult?”
“Because you're putting a percentage of the sale on the table while I'm asking where estate money went.”
Salim pulled the phone back. “Every family has its own way, Amina.”
Amina closed the folder.
“Debt is not a tradition.”
Salim's face hardened. “You think Nairobi made you better than us.”
“No. It made me sign things I can explain the next day.”
She stood.
“You'll have my letter tonight. I will not confirm the sale until an independent audit is complete.”
Salim remained seated. “You'll end up alone.”
Amina lifted her bag. “I've been alone before.”
She did not feel victorious as she crossed the hotel lobby. A man who could not buy her cooperation would find another way to pressure it.
Her phone vibrated before she reached the parking lot.
Email from Bahari Crown's agent.
Subject: **Notice of Bid Closure**.
The buyer's offer would remain open for seventy-two hours. After that, a deposit would be placed and the closing process would begin.
Two minutes later Yusuf called.
“You saw it?”
“Yes.”
“Seventy-two hours.”
Amina looked back toward the restaurant window. Salim was still sitting at the table, eating slowly, as if the deadline had not surprised him at all.
“This is why he was in a hurry,” she said.
“Tomorrow. My office. Eight.”
“I'll be there.”
For the first time, the three days Amina had promised herself were no longer a test of patience.
They had become a race against the clock.
Before she left the hotel grounds, Salim tried one more angle.
“You know your mother will have no peace if you make this public.”
Amina put her bag back down on the chair beside her. “Don't use her as another price.”
“It's not a price. It's the truth. Mariam signed things. Pull this thread and she appears too.”
“I've already spoken to her.”
Salim showed a flicker of surprise. “What did she say?”
“That's between her and me until it becomes relevant to the report.”
“You see? Even you protect family.”
“No. I protect scope.”
Salim laughed. “Words.”
Amina held his gaze. “Uncle, if the repairs were legitimate, I will record them as legitimate. If there is real debt, it will appear. I have no interest in pretending the building has no problems.”
“Then why won't you trust me?”
“Because generosity and audit are two different things.”
“Saada would have hated to see this family in court.”
“Saada also asked questions about the loans.”
For the first time that evening, Salim did not answer quickly. That silence told Amina more than many of his speeches.
Once outside, she sent a formal email confirming that she had declined any incentive tied to the sale and was still awaiting the requested documents. She copied Mariam and Hamza. She did not want a dinner conversation to remain a memory held by only two people.
She also summarized Salim's explanation: Kisiwa Heritage had been used for rapid procurement, the missing records would be provided, and the sale was urgent because of debt. She sent him the draft and asked him to correct any factual errors—not to approve her opinion.
His reply arrived quickly:
**You are twisting family conversation into evidence.**
Amina wrote back:
**I am recording explanations relevant to the audit. Please identify any factual error.**
No correction came.
That night Mariam asked whether Salim had offered her money.
“He proposed a payment linked to the sale,” Amina said.
“How much?”
“Not important yet.”
“It matters to me.”
Amina considered, then showed her the distribution screenshot.
Mariam stared at it. “He has done this with others before. Given them something so they stop asking questions.”
“Do you have evidence?”
“No. Memory and suspicion.”
“Then don't state it as fact.”
Mariam gave a sad smile. “I'm beginning to learn your language.”
“Don't learn all of it. It's exhausting.”
Then the seventy-two-hour notice arrived.
Amina set a countdown timer on her phone.
Salim had shifted the conflict from old explanations to immediate pressure. If they did not find a legal basis to slow the transaction, the audit could continue while the property itself became locked inside a deal.
The clock began to fall.