Monica gasped. My uncle? Yes. And the next morning, your father was dead. I told people. No one listened. No one wanted trouble with Okzi. Donald’s jaw tightened. Is he still alive? Mama Niki shook her head. He died last year. But I she’s been fighting to get into your father’s property again. Now I see why. Monica sat still.
Her father had been killed for land, for greed, and had stood by, maybe even helped. Everything began to make sense. The sudden visit, the veiled threats, the 5 million naira request. She wasn’t just begging, she was warning. Back at the hotel, Monica sat quietly on the bed, holding an old picture of her father.
Donald placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to fight this,” he said. “I’ll hire the best legal team. We’ll recover every inch of what was stolen.” But Monica wasn’t listening. Because at that moment, her phone lit up. A message from a blocked number. You should have helped me when I asked. Now your secrets will be public.
Say goodbye to your fairy tale. And attached was a video clip, one that could destroy everything. Monica stared at the screen, her fingers trembling. The video file had no title, just a timestamp. The moment she tapped on it, the screen lit up with grainy footage. For a second, all she heard was the sound of wind. Then the image cleared. It was her.
Monica, 15 years old, skinny in a faded school uniform, sitting on the dusty floor of corridor, crying, her eyes swollen, her voice shaking. I have nowhere to go. The younger Monica sobbed in the video. I swear I didn’t know they were planning anything. I didn’t know Uncle Okezi wanted daddy dead. I didn’t know. The camera shifted slightly.
Another voice offcreen. Female, you were there the night it happened. Monica, you heard them and you said nothing. I was scared, young Monica cried. Please don’t tell anyone. I just want to live. I want to survive. The screen froze on her face, helpless, scared, stained with tears. And then the video ended.
Silence filled the hotel room. Donald sat across from her, his face unreadable. Monica’s hands slowly lowered the phone onto the table. Her lips were parted, but no words came out. The color drained from her face. “Donald,” she finally whispered. “It’s not what it looks like. He didn’t speak. I didn’t know they were serious.
I didn’t think they’d really kill him. I was just a child. I heard them arguing, “Yes, but but I didn’t understand what it meant. I didn’t think it would lead to that.” Donald leaned forward slowly, his elbows on his knees, eyes locked on hers. Why didn’t you tell me this before? Monica’s voice cracked.
Because I buried it. I didn’t want to believe I was there. I didn’t want to remember. For years, I convinced myself I didn’t hear anything. That it was just noise. That I wasn’t part of it. Tears ran down her cheeks. I lived with that guilt every day. I hated myself. I hated my silence.
But what could a scared little girl do? Who would have believed me over a powerful man like Okzi? Donald looked away for a moment, running a hand down his face. Someone sent this to destroy you, he said finally. To ruin everything we’ve built. Monica nodded. It’s Ioma. She recorded that video herself. I remember now.
That night after daddy’s funeral, she called me in. I thought she wanted to comfort me, but she had her phone hidden. She told me to confess everything I knew. She said it was for my healing, but she kept the recording. She must have saved it all these years. Donald stood and walked to the window. She’s trying to blackmail you.
