CHAPTER TWELVE: The attack

The mansion changed in an instant.

Minutes earlier, I had stood beside Jidenna, staring at the photograph and trying to understand how anyone could have captured us inside our bedroom without our knowledge.

Now the walls seemed to lean inward.

Every dark window looked like an eye. Every corner held a shape that vanished when I looked directly at it. The silence between distant sounds felt deliberate, as if the house itself were listening.

The security team moved fast.

Men swept through the garden, checked the windows, climbed onto the roof, searched along the walls, and tore through every room in the mansion. Curtains were yanked aside. Furniture scraped across the floors. Even the flowerpots outside our bedroom were lifted and examined.

I stood beside Jidenna with my arms locked across my chest, trying to keep my hands from shaking.

“Are you sure the picture was taken from outside?” the head of security asked.

Jidenna turned toward him.

“The angle tells me that,” he said. “Look at the window. Whoever took it was standing somewhere outside the room.”

The security head studied the photograph again, his brow furrowing.

“But sir, the compound was locked throughout the night.”

“That means someone either found a way inside or already had access to the compound.”

The words slid beneath my skin.

Already had access.

I looked at Jidenna.

“Jidenna…”

He turned to me at once.

“What is it?”

“What if it wasn't a stranger?”

His expression hardened.

“You mean someone we know?”

I nodded slowly, my mouth suddenly dry.

“I don't know. But whoever took that picture knew exactly where our bedroom was. They knew when to take it. They knew we wouldn't notice.”

For a moment, Jidenna said nothing.

Then he faced the security team.

“Check the staff entrance records. Every person who entered this compound in the last seven days. I want names, times, everything.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And nobody leaves this compound until I say so.”

The security head nodded.

The order seemed to tighten the air around us.

Then a shout tore through the garden.

“Sir!”

Everyone turned.

Jidenna strode toward the voice. I followed, my pulse hammering in my throat.

A security man stood beneath our bedroom window, beside the hedge. He held something between two fingers, careful not to touch it.

A tiny black device.

My heart seemed to drop through the floor.

“What's that?” I asked.

The man raised it.

“Sir, we found this hidden inside the flowerpot.”

Jidenna's jaw clenched.

“Bring it here.”

The man handed it over.

Jidenna examined it without touching the surface directly. His eyes narrowed.

“A camera,” he said.

The word barely left his mouth before my hand flew over it.

Someone had really been watching us.

Not imagining.

Not guessing.

Watching.

Jidenna turned sharply to the head of security.

“Seal this area. Nobody touches anything else.”

“Yes, sir.”

His phone rang.

The sound cut through the garden like a blade.

Jidenna looked at the screen.

His expression changed.

“It's my lawyer.”

He answered.

“Hello?”

He listened.

The color drained slowly from his face. His eyes shifted toward me.

“What?”

I took a step closer.

“What happened?” I whispered.

He raised one finger, asking me to wait.

The call continued for another minute. I could hear only the faint murmur of the voice on the other end, but every pause made my stomach twist tighter.

When Jidenna finally ended the call, he looked at me.

“The police have found something.”

My heart began to pound.

“What?”

“They found evidence connected to the murder accusation.”

I froze.

For days, the accusation had followed us like a shadow. Someone had tried to make it look as though Jidenna was connected to the death of a man he claimed he barely knew.

But now there was evidence?

“What kind of evidence?”

“I'm not sure yet.”

He took my hand. His fingers were warm, but his grip was hard.

“We're going to the station.”

I stared at him.

“Now?”

“Now.”

The drive to the police station was silent except for the low growl of the engine and the occasional crackle from the security vehicle following behind us.

Jidenna sat beside me in the back seat. His shoulder was only inches from mine, yet the distance between us felt enormous.

I kept looking at the picture on my phone.

Our bedroom.

Our private moment.

Someone had captured it deliberately.

And now a camera had been found outside our window.

There was no way those things were unrelated.

“Jidenna,” I finally said.

“Yes?”

“What if the person who planted the camera is the same person behind the murder accusation?”

He looked at me.

“That is exactly what I'm thinking.”

“Then why would they take a picture of us?”

He said nothing.

The silence pressed against my ears.

“Maybe the picture was supposed to destroy you,” I continued. “Maybe they wanted people to believe something else.”

“What?”

“That you were hiding something.”

His gaze shifted toward the dark window.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he said quietly, “Someone has been trying to control the story around me.”

I frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“First, the accusation. Then the photograph. Now the camera.”

He turned and looked directly into my eyes.

“Someone wants us afraid.”

Those words stayed with me.

Someone wanted us afraid.

But why?

At the police station, an officer led us into a small office that smelled of dust, stale coffee, and damp paper.

A detective was waiting behind the desk.

He placed a file in front of him.

“We recovered something from the victim's vehicle,” he said.

Jidenna sat down.

“What did you find?”

“A second phone.”

I blinked.

“A second phone?”

“Yes. The victim had another phone registered under a different name.”

The detective opened the file.

“We've been going through the messages.”

He turned the phone toward us.

There were several messages.

Most were ordinary.

Then he opened one conversation.

My eyes widened.

The final message had been sent the night before the murder.

I have proof about Jidenna. Meet me tomorrow. Come alone.

Jidenna leaned closer.

“Who sent that?”

The detective shook his head.

“That is where it gets interesting.”

He scrolled upward.

“The number was saved under one name.”

Jidenna stared at the screen.

I watched his face change.

“Who?”

The detective hesitated.

Then he said,

“Chika.”

The name seemed to strike the room silent.

I stared at Jidenna.

“Chika?”

His expression became unreadable.

Chika was someone we knew.

Someone who had been around us before.

Someone who had acted like a friend.

I remembered the last time I had seen her: the strange questions, the way she had watched me, the way she had vanished after the murder accusation became public.

My chest tightened.

“Are you saying Chika knew the victim?” I asked.

“We're saying her number was connected to him,” the detective replied. “But that's not all.”

He opened another photograph.

It showed a security camera recording from a nearby building.

A woman stood outside the victim's vehicle.

Her face was turned away, hidden beneath the blur of the image.

But her clothes were unmistakable.

I looked at Jidenna.

He stared at the photograph.

“That’s Chika’s dress,” he said.

The detective nodded.

“That’s what we believe.”

Silence filled the room.

Then my phone vibrated.

The sudden buzz made me flinch.

I looked down.

Unknown number.

A message had arrived.

Stop looking for the truth.

My breath caught.

A second message appeared immediately.

You don't know who you're trusting.

I slowly showed Jidenna.

His face went cold.

The detective leaned forward.

“Give me the phone.”

Before I could hand it over, another message appeared.

This time, there was a photograph.

I opened it.

My entire body went still.

It was a picture of me and Jidenna entering the police station.

Taken only moments ago.

Someone was watching us.

Right now.

Jidenna shot to his feet.

“Where did this come from?”

The detective immediately called the officers outside.

“Lock the building down!”

People rushed through the hallway. Shoes struck the floor. Voices rose and collided beyond the door.

Jidenna grabbed my hand.

“Stay beside me.”

I nodded, though my fingers had gone numb.

Then the lights went out.

The room vanished.

Darkness swallowed the desk, the detective, Jidenna's face—everything. Somewhere outside, someone screamed. A heavy crash shook the hallway, followed by the scrape of something dragging across the floor.

My breath caught in my throat.

Jidenna's grip tightened around my hand.

“Don't move,” he whispered.

I held my breath.

The darkness seemed to breathe around us.

Then, from somewhere beyond our door, came the slow, deliberate sound of footsteps.

One step.

A pause.

Another step.

Closer.

Another.

The footsteps stopped directly outside.

For one terrible second, nothing moved.

Then the handle began to turn.

everything went blank.