Chapter 18

NADIA'S POV

When we finally reached the theatre room again, I immediately spotted Tamara sitting beside Mrs. Johnson.

My heart sank. Tamara…my worst nightmare…looked as radiant as ever. I still couldn’t believe she had gotten engaged to Richard, the richest bachelor in the city.

I clenched my fists. She didn’t deserve him. Not her. A part of me wanted to walk up to her and say everything I’d been holding inside, but I knew better.

All I could do was stand there and wish that the tears streaming down her face would never stop. I wanted her to always feel pain, to always cry, just like I had when Richard left me.

Not only pain I had wished her but I wished her death, she had stolen my man from me.

“Mrs. Johnson,” Max said gently, kneeling by her side. “Please don’t cry. Mr. Kenneth is a strong man. He’ll survive this accident. You need to stay strong for him.”

Mrs. Johnson nodded weakly, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Max stayed by her side, petting her hand like a loyal servant. I watched him, still feeling like something wasn’t right.

Then the door opened, and Richard walked in. My heart skipped a beat. His broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and confident stride made him look like a model straight out of a magazine.

I couldn’t stop staring at him, no matter how much I tried to resist. He was perfect, even when he wasn’t mine.

The room was quiet, filled with a heavy sense of worry and anticipation. Tamara, Mrs. Johnson, Mr. Jacob, Max, and Richard all stayed, while other family members began to leave one by one. I stood at the back, observing everything in silence.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a group of police officers marched in. Their uniforms and stern faces made everyone freeze.

“What’s going on?” Mrs. Johnson asked, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know,” Mr. Jacob muttered, looking confused.

The officers stood at attention, scanning the room. One of them, a tall man with a commanding presence, stepped forward. “We’re here for someone,” he announced.

For a moment, no one spoke. The tension was unbearable.

I glanced at Mr. Jacob and noticed something that sent a chill down my spine: fear. His usually composed face was pale, his eyes wide with panic. He looked like a man who had just seen a ghost.

And then Richard broke the silence. “I was the one who called the police,” he said calmly, stepping forward.

All eyes turned to him.

“You did what?” Mr. Jacob asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Richard’s gaze didn’t waver. “I had to. It was necessary.”

The room felt like it had stopped breathing. What was going on? Why did Richard call the police? And why was Mr. Jacob is so afraid?

I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off about Mr. Jacob. His calm demeanor was only a mask, and deep down, I was convinced he was hiding something. Only a bad person truly knows another bad person, I thought to myself.

There was no mistaking the way his face seemed to glisten with beads of sweat, even in a cool room. Anxiety was written all over him, though he tried to appear composed.

I leaned back against the wall, observing him from a distance. My mind drifted to the past, a memory I had buried for years but never forgotten. I was twelve, and the Johnson family was embroiled in a bitter court battle over their grandfather’s property.

Those days were filled with whispers, heated arguments, and the occasional visit from their lawyer, who was tirelessly fighting on Mr. Kenneth Johnson’s behalf.

One particular afternoon stood out vividly in my mind. The sun blazed mercilessly as I walked home from school, clutching my books tightly to shield myself from the heat.

My uniform stuck to my back, and all I could think of was getting home for a cold glass of water. As I approached the Johnson mansion, I noticed a car parked a short distance away, its engine humming softly.

Inside the car sat Mr. Jacob, his face hidden behind dark sunglasses. He seemed to be waiting for someone, his posture stiff and his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Something about the scene unsettled me, but I didn’t understand why at the time. I slowed my steps, curiosity keeping me rooted to the spot.

Moments later, the Johnson family lawyer emerged from the mansion, holding a leather briefcase. He looked hurried, as though he was eager to leave. But just as he reached the gate, I saw Mr. Jacob step out of the car.

“Excuse me, sir,” Mr. Jacob called out to him in a voice that was almost too polite. The lawyer paused, turning to face him with a confused expression.

What happened next unfolded in slow motion. Mr. Jacob reached into his jacket, pulling out what looked like a gun. It wasn’t an ordinary gun…it had a silencer attached. My heart raced as I realized what was about to happen.

“Mr. Jacob!” I wanted to scream, but the words caught in my throat.

Without hesitation, he raised the weapon and fired. The lawyer crumpled to the ground, his briefcase falling with a thud.

I froze in place, too shocked to move or even breathe. Mr. Jacob glanced around, his expression cold and detached, before bending down to retrieve the briefcase.

He looked completely unfazed as he walked back to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat and speeding off. The sound of tires screeching against the pavement echoed in my ears long after he disappeared.

That memory haunted me for years, and every time I saw Mr. Jacob, it replayed in my mind like a bad dream.

Now, standing here in the present, I felt that same unease creep over me. His nervous glances and the way his hands fidgeted told me he was hiding something…just like he had all those years ago.

I folded my arms, leaning against the wall and watching him. My mind raced with questions. Why had he done it? What was in those files that were so important? And why was he so afraid now?

As I stared at him, my thoughts spiraled deeper into suspicion. “What are you up to this time, Mr. Jacob?” I whispered to myself.

But I knew one thing for sure…I would never forget what I saw that day.