Chapter 7

The evening carried a strange weight—like the end of something, though Zara couldn’t quite place what.

Dinner was awkward, tense. Regan sat across from her, his fork barely moving, his face unreadable as ever. Her parents pretended to enjoy the meal, but even her mother kept glancing at the door, as if expecting someone.

The someone came fifteen minutes later.

Chief Kareem.

He entered the house in his usual regal stride, his voice booming as he greeted Mr. and Mrs. Tunde. He kissed the air beside her mother’s cheek and clapped her father on the shoulder like an old friend. Then he turned to Regan and nodded.

“Time to head home, son.”

Zara blinked. That was it?

So, he was finally leaving.

It struck her with an odd wave of relief. Since that awkward night in the kitchen and his cryptic “You’re not the only one who feels trapped, Zara,” he had kept to himself. Their interactions had been shallow—safe, surface-level.

Now, the visit was over.

Apparently, this dinner was Kareem’s version of a formal goodbye. Tying loose ends. Polishing appearances.

The men moved toward the sitting room, murmuring in hushed voices. Her mother disappeared into the kitchen, probably to pack snacks for Regan like he was her favorite nephew. Zara stood at the edge of the dining room, unsure what to do with herself.

Eventually, she drifted up the stairs.

She wasn’t expecting to pause. She wasn’t expecting voices.

But just as she passed the second landing, she heard it.

A low, tense exchange coming from her father’s study. The door was cracked just enough for the words to slip through.

“You made promises, Tunde,” Chief Kareem snapped. “I kept my end.”

“She doesn’t know,” her father replied, voice low and tight. “And she won’t. I’ve made sure of that.”

Zara stopped breathing.

“She’s got her mother’s fire,” Kareem continued. “Sooner or later, she’ll start digging.”

“Then we distract her,” her father said. “The marriage will stabilize everything. She’ll adjust.”

A pause.

Then Kareem said something that made the hallway tilt under her feet.

“She’s just like her sister. I won’t lose this one too.”

The air in Zara’s lungs vanished.

Inside the room, silence stretched. Her father’s voice broke it.

“We agreed never to speak of that again.”

“But I haven’t forgotten,” Kareem growled. “That girl vanished. And you and your wife barely batted an eye.”

Vanished?

What girl?

What sister?

Zara’s thoughts tumbled like broken glass in her mind. She didn’t have a sister. She was an only child. Her parents had told her that all her life. Hadn’t they?

“You better pray Zara stays in the dark,” Kareem said with a finality that made her blood run cold.

She backed away from the door, legs trembling.

Every sound around her dulled as she made her way upstairs, her thoughts crashing in waves. Her room was a blur. She locked the door, then slid to the floor.

What sister?

That line kept echoing, over and over. Her chest felt tight, like she’d walked into a room without air.

Pieces started falling into place. Her father’s paranoia. Her mother’s mood swings. The strange way both parents reacted to her modeling dream—as if terrified she’d step out of bounds. And now Regan… being forced too?

There was a history she wasn’t meant to know.

Her phone buzzed from her bed. She ignored it.

Outside her window, she saw movement—the faint shape of Regan loading a bag into the back of a sleek black car. Her father stood beside him. Kareem joined seconds later, offering a handshake and a nod.

Just like that, he was gone.

But something had shifted.

The house felt emptier—but not in peace. In shadow.

Zara climbed into bed, mind racing. There were too many questions, too many gaps. She closed her eyes, but the silence of the room only made her thoughts louder.

She’s just like her sister.

And then the chilling truth settled over her like a storm cloud:

They’ve been hiding something from me. Something big.

She didn’t know who the girl was, or where she went, but one thing was certain—

Zara wasn’t going to stop until she found out.