40%, 2 shades of grey.

"...Grey was the colour of reasonable doubt."

—Michael Connelly.

Maverick.

"We have to tell Mom about this, you know?"

Michelle stated, still slicing the beef on her plate with serious dedication. Something that she could just easily use her hand and teeth to tear. Not like cameras were watching her inside his house.

Maverick, saying nothing shook his head at her actions and continued to feed Marcel with cornflakes. The boy could not go a day without eating it. It wasn't something they could even risk.

She sighed, setting down her cutleries. "Ricky, I don't know how you plan on doing it, but people are going to find out about this baby, and it might spark some rumours. Mom should know that she has a grandchild at least."

"I know, and I plan on telling her," he replied.

"When? It's already been a week. Marcel has been going in and out of this house, what makes it more obvious is the way he looks so much like you. Shouldn't you tell her instead of her hearing it from someone or somewhere else? You know how news travel in this country bro."

"I have it all planned out Tomi. Why do you think I've not let you leave to Abuja yet?"

Frown lines formed between her eyebrows. "Wait." The lines faded, her eyes widening as she blinked continuously. "You are following me to Abuja, with him?"

He nodded, picking a piece of tissue paper to wipe the top of Marcel's lips which was stained with milk that formed a thin line.

Michelle squealed. "That would be lovely! I'll get to see Marcel until my hiatus is over!"

Maverick smiled at her over-excitement, frowning when she suddenly stopped laughing.

"What is it?"

"It's just..." She sighed. "What are you going to tell her about him? She's going to ask questions."

"Definitely. I know the kind of mother I have, so I'm going to tell her the way things are." He poured some water into the plastic cup and handed it to Marcel who was whining about being thirsty.

"What do you mean? You'll tell her that Leticia gave out the child and lied about the stillbirth?"

Maverick shook his head.

"Then what are you going to tell her?"

He shrugged, "something."

"But... But do you really think she did that?" She said, whispering the last words.

"Who did what?" He asked, cocking a brow.

"Leticia naw, I mean she couldn't have done that, you know?"

He was beginning to think so too, but he was going to keep that to himself until he had at least fifty per cent of reasonable doubt.

"What makes you think so?"

She sprung up from her seat, catching Marcel who was about to fall off the seat. Maverick was shocked for a moment, wondering why she was coming at him until he realised what had happened.

"You should watch this boy more carefully. He was right beside you and you didn't notice that he had slept and was already even falling off," she scolded him, rounding the chair to take the sleeping child into her arms.

He let out a relieved sigh, getting up to go to the living room but stopped when he saw the dishes on the dining table. He gathered them together and took them to the kitchen sink.

While doing that, a certain memory popped up in his head. The day Leticia injured her hand.

He was going to the trash can beside the kitchen door to drop a piece of broken glass that he found at the dining entrance when he heard her sucking her teeth. It was rare, and so he rushed in only to see her bleeding. She had cut the skin between her thumb and index finger and it was bleeding seriously.

He treated the injury, but then she hated drugs, so to make her take the painkillers he had kissed her. What was more disturbing was the way he lost control, it felt like his heart was going to burst from the way it was racing. There, he broke the kiss and hastily walked out of the room, perplexed as to why he reacted like that to her.

Funny enough, that was the period of her early pregnancy with Marcel as it were. He had never been more confused, but after a long while, he came to accept the fact that he had feelings for Leticia. He just couldn't deny it any longer.

It was unfortunate...

"Why is your thumb on your lips, Ricky?" Michelle said.

He snapped out of his reverie, the soft feel on his lips making him realise that he was truly rubbing his lips. He dropped his hand and left the kitchen, plopping on the couch in the living room with his head in his hands.

She followed him, teasing him about missing his wife's kisses and whatnot.

"But on a serious note, why do you look sad all of a sudden?"

He scoffed. "I always look like that to you."

"Naah, you normally look cold and indifferent, not sad. Anyways, you asked what made me think that she couldn't have given out the child right?"

He nodded in affirmative.

"My reason may seem stupid to you, but Leticia loves children. Even you spoke to me about how she reacted to the loss of the child then, and I saw it for myself. I do not believe all that was an act."

That was in line with his thoughts too. At this point, the grey areas were getting shades lighter by the passing minutes.

"Why so? It could be that she's a great actor. You never can tell."

She took a seat beside him, leaning her back to the chair and crossing her legs before answering the question.

"Not the Leticia I know. She can't even pretend to save her life, not to talk about acting. If I heard that her crime was keeping a secret, I'd have agreed, cause she's good at keeping her mouth shut. And in keeping the secret, one would know she knows about that thing but she'd just not say it."

"What if you never knew her all along?"

She sat up, crossing her legs and facing him. "What are you saying? I've known her since secondary school bro. Look, it's not that easy to deceive me. I'm an actress after all."

He still wanted to prod her more, to be sure that his doubts were not sentimental but genuine and without strings.

"Bro, I might've seen the proof and all, but I've been trying to believe all they said she did, but not even a tiny bit seems possible to me. I'm sorry, I know I sound insensitive now, but right from the start this is how I've been feeling, and I even felt bad for doubting her in the first place."

Sorry? That sorry was not even for him. Even he had begun to feel the same way. It would kill him to find out that she was truly not the culprit. He did not want to think about the consequences of clearing his doubts.

"Why exactly? What made you reconsider?"

"Marcel," she replied immediately. "The story the Reverend sister gave, there was a lot of... Should I say... Plotholes. If at all Leticia truly gave her the child, she wouldn't be so stupid to give out your name. Look at it this way; let's say Leticia is still around and she had given the baby out, then the woman was beginning to feel guilty and she brought Marcel back to you, wouldn't Leticia be in trouble? Would she intentionally put herself in trouble?" She shifted on her seat, moving closer to Maverick.

"Or do you want to tell me that the woman found out you were the father by herself? How would she have been able to? Cause from her story, she never met Leticia face to face, she doesn't even know anything about her but for the fact that her name is Leticia. Think about it."

It provoked Maverick's thought all the more. That made sense. That was the question he was trying to find. He knew the story made no sense, but he had been having a hard time pointing out the plot holes as Michelle put it. Now that she voiced it, he got the right questions to ask.

"Good night Ricky. Keep your anger aside and think about this thoroughly with a clear mind. Not that I'm taking sides, but nothing makes sense. Put the pieces together and find your wife before it gets too late." That being said, she rose from the chair. Giving him a pat on the back, she walked down the hallway until she was out of sight.

Find his wife? If it was not too late already.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Maverick dragged himself from beneath the covers, throwing it off as he rose to his full height. Their flight had been booked, to take off by eleven am.

He put on his phone. The time read twenty-four minutes past seven.

Shoot shoot shoot!

He was supposed to be up by five so he could throw in some things into his travelling bag. "You can't arrange your stuff to save your life," it rang in his head. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. She was always right. He couldn't.

Maverick rushed into the walk-in closet, drawing out one of the medium-sized travelling boxes. He lifted it to the wooden part of the glass cabinet where his wristwatches were stored.

He shoved in some shirts, shoes and trousers, both casual and corporate. After the disaster of an arrangement, he stepped into the bathtub to take his bath.

"Ricky! Abu is here already, For God's sake come out!" He heard his sister yell.

"Why are you being so fussy? It's not like the plane can take off without me," he drawled.

"I don't blame you, arrogant human being." She huffed and said nothing again.

Shaking his head, Maverick grabbed a sky blue dress shirt with light brown corporate trousers. Starting at the clothes, he noticed that they looked too corporate for the trip. He skimmed through the closet, searching for something less corporate. It seemed like he would have to go shopping for casual wear.

His gaze rested on a denim jacket.

Had he ever worn it? Wondering, he took it off the hanger and started at it. An idea crossed his mind.

He put on the dress shirt and trouser, then shrugged on the jean jacket. He undid the first two buttons of the dress shirt and left the denim jacket completely unbuttoned.

Better, but something was still off.

Taking off the cuff links, he folded up the cuff and checked in the mirror. It looked good.

But shoes. Which shoe should he wear?

"Ricky, can I come in?"

Right on time. She would be able to help him choose.

"Sure. I'm in the closet."

Shortly after, he saw her step into the room through the dressing mirror with Marcel. She sat him on the bed and offered him a pack of biscuits, then came to meet him in the closet.

"What's keeping you?"

"What to wear. Do I look okay in these?"

She peered at him with a brow raised and her index finger on her chin. "Woah, in your mind now you have a nice fashion sense oh. This is good, you look like a model," she commented.

"I know, there's never been a time I did not. Anyways, what about the shoes? I don't know what to wear."

She scoffed, "so cocky but you can't even pick a shoe to wear. One second abeg." She turned to the shoe rack and stared, then grabbed a pair and set them before him.

"Here, these should do."

He stared at the pair of denim authentic sneakers with white soles. Not bad. With a  nod, he slid open the door of the glass cabinet, taking out a silver rolex watch and black bracelet.

"Okay, I'm done. Let's go," he said walking back into the room. Marcel sat on the bed, swinging his legs back and forth, no sign of Michelle anywhere.

Biscuit crumbs were scattered on his joggers and the top of his lips. Not that the boy minded, he was focused on trying to open another wrap of biscuit.

Chuckling, Maverick crouched in front of him, stretching forth his hand. The boy submitted the biscuit, dropping his gaze as though he had been caught doing what he shouldn't.

"Here," Maverick said, placing the opened biscuit on his palm. Marcel's eyes lit up, a wide grin replacing his earlier sombre expression. Now that he was up close, he realized that the boy's smile was like Leticia's; the way her eyes would crinkle at the sides with her beautifully arranged teeth partially out.

"Thank you, Daddy." Maverick ruffled his hair. "Welcome buddy. We'll soon be on our way to see grandma, you'll be a good boy, right?" He nodded.

"That's my boy!" Maverick exclaimed. He fisted his hand and brought it forward. Marcel mimicked the action, hitting Maverick's fist. The smile on his face still remained intact.

Crazy how the most little things made children happy.

From his complexion to his facial feature, and the texture of his hair, one would easily know that Marcel was his son. Leticia carried such a beautiful child. Quite unfortunate that the boy only had her smile. It would have been lovely if he had her eyes.

"Are you ready?" Michelle entered at that moment, taking Marcel into her arms.

"Sure, let's move."

The trip was faster than he had expected. Normally, every one of his trips to Abuja always dragged on but this was an exception. Perhaps it was because he was travelling for personal and not business reasons for the first time in a long time.

Michelle's driver was waiting at the airport when they arrived, so they were already on their way to Maitama immediately after they landed.

"Mom!" Michelle screamed, throwing herself into their mother whose jaw was hanging open.

Their appearance was meant to be a surprise, and he got the reaction he was hoping for.

"My baby!" She said, hugging her daughter back with equal enthusiasm.

"Ah! Olumide is here too? Oh, my God has done it for me!" Pulling away from Michelle, she drew Maverick in for a hug, ruffling his hair.

"Mom!" He whined, "I'm too old for this already and you know that."

"You're not old. You're still my little boy of that time. I missed you so much."

"That's not fair mommy, what about me? You didn't miss me?" Michelle grumbled, pushing past Maverick and entering the waiting parlour.

"Kileleyi? You are my baby now, how could I not? I'm just excited and surprised to see your brother. You know he never calls, unlike you."

[Kileleyi: who is this one?]

Maverick shook his head, releasing himself from his mother's grip to meet Michelle where she stood.

"See now he doesn't even want to hug me," she complained and they all laughed.

Honestly, he missed his mother, although it was less than a month since he last saw her and they did not part well. With all that had been happening, however, he just wanted to hug her and cry on her shoulders.

"Where's Marcel?" He whispered to his sister and she shrugged, pointing towards the car. Humming, he left her and moved further in.

The waiting parlour seemed new like there were additions. The four coffee brown accent chairs were still placed against the wall, surrounding the glass table that sat atop a cream-coloured circle-shaped carpet with assorted flower patterns. A large oval mirror with a wooden design was the newcomer.

Marcel walked in just then, clutching a toy car in one hand while the other was scratching his head. The sounds that filled the air came to a sudden seize, a pregnant silence replacing the earlier bubbly atmosphere.

"Good afternoon ma," he greeted, placing his hand on his chest with a small bow.

The elderly woman stared at the boy, then shifted her gaze to Michelle who was scratching the back of her neck, then to Maverick who was avoiding eye contact and back to the little boy who was gawking at her.

She looked around again, then walked forward and bent in front of Marcel. Giving him a big grin, she held him close to herself.

"How are you, handsome baby? Did you get lost?"

Marcel, whose head was bowed, shook his head from side to side. "I'm not lost. Daddy said he's taking me to meet grandma," he mumbled.

"Daddy?" His mother asked with wrinkled brows.

He nodded.

"Mom, we'll explain things to you later. For now can we please go and unpack and rest?" Michelle said.

Sighing, she stood up, glancing back at the both of them as she picked Marcel up. "Sure. Go ahead and do your thing. I'll ask them to prepare food for you."

On stepping into the living room, he glanced around. Mobolaji had changed the theme again. A few years back, the parlour theme was white and navy blue, now it was different.

Two mild-golden Chesterfield chairs were arranged on either side. The covering material caressing his hand was enough to tell that it was velvet. The wallpapers were the same colour as the chairs, the unique-shaped hexagonal table reflecting rays of light from its glossy light-brown and mahogany stripes.

Maverick placed his hand on the table surface. It was made with oak wood for sure.

His mother could go all the way when it came to designs. The rectangular chandelier curving out downwards was another indication.

"Olumide! Go and wash up so that you will eat something!" He heard her yell from the kitchen.

"Yes, ma!" He replied, his heart starting to race.

The faster he washed up and ate, the faster the conversation drew closer. To be honest, he was scared of his mother's reaction. Not because she would shout or rain curses or any of the sort, but because he had no idea about how she was going to react.

Well, he was about to find out soon.

Phew! I'm curious though. What do you guys think? Are things happening too fast?
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Still your favourite girl; Caupcayke😎

This chapter is dedicated to tolu456 for your motivation. Thank you for always asking when I'll update. It makes me feel like I'm writing something that is worth it. I really appreciate 🥺🥺❤❤❤