For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Jerry finally asked the question that had been tearing him apart.
“Mirabel… why?”
Mirabel’s eyes filled again. She looked up at the leaves overhead, then back at him.
“Because I heard your mother say she was going to kill me.”
Jerry’s whole body went still.
His heartbeat seemed to stop.
His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Mirabel leaned forward, her elbows on her knees as if the weight in her chest was too much to hold upright.
“She came when you travelled,” Mirabel said. “She didn’t greet me like a normal person. She walked into the house as if she owned my breath.”
Jerry blinked hard.
Madam Hannah.
His mother.
The same woman who smiled in public and called Mirabel “my daughter” in front of cameras.
Jerry’s voice came out rough.
“My mother said she would kill you?”
Mirabel nodded slowly.
“She called me barren,” Mirabel said, wiping her cheek. “She said I was wasting your time. She said you are her only child and I am blocking her from holding grandchildren.”
Jerry swallowed, his lips trembling.
“That night I wasn’t feeling well. I told her I couldn’t cook. I was dizzy. My stomach was turning. She suddenly became nice.”
Jerry frowned.
Mirabel’s eyes flicked around the garden again, like she still expected danger.
“She came into my room. She touched my forehead like a caring mother. She told me to lie down and said she would make jollof rice.”
Jerry’s throat tightened.
“But before I ate, I heard her outside my door talking on the phone.”
Mirabel gripped her knees so tightly her knuckles turned white.
“She said she had poisoned the food,” Mirabel whispered. “She said even if it didn’t work, she had already paid boys to finish the job.”
Jerry’s stomach twisted.
“No,” he whispered. “No… no.”
Mirabel stared at him, begging him to believe her.
Jerry shook his head slowly, as if trying to wake himself from a nightmare.
“My mother can be harsh,” he said weakly. “She can say terrible thi
