ONE NIGHT THREE SECRETS

Rain hadn't stopped in Lagos since 6pm. It hammered the windows of Daniel's penthouse in Ikoyi, blurring the city lights into a smear of yellow and red. The AC was too cold. The whiskey on his table was untouched. Three years since their father died and still, every anniversary felt like opening a fresh wound. He'd been standing by the window for almost ten minutes, phone in his hand, not really looking at anything. His phone rang. JASON. He answered with his jaw already tight. "Where the hell are you?" Loud music. A girl laughing in the background. Of course. "Living, brother. You should try it sometime," Jason said. "We have Dad's anniversary dinner in one hour. Mom organized everything before she left us too. Just get here." "I said I'll be there. Relax." Click. He hung up. Daniel threw the phone on the couch. Michael didn't even look up from his laptop. He was the oldest, always the calm one, always reading some contract like the world depended on it. The responsible one since their father died fifteen years ago. "Let me guess," Michael said without looking up. "Jason is being Jason." "He's going to be late again. On purpose. He has no respect." "He's twenty-four, Daniel. He thinks being late is a personality. Leave him." Before Daniel could answer, his phone rang again. Unknown number. Daniel stared at it for a second too long. Unknown numbers never brought good news. He picked up. "Hello?" Silence. Only breathing. Uneven. Like someone trying not to cry. "Hello? Who is this?" A woman's voice, small and broken. "Are you... Daniel Carter?" His shoulders stiffened. "Yes. Who's asking?" "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't be calling—" "Sorry for what? Do I know you?" The line went dead. Daniel looked at the phone, frowning. Michael finally closed his laptop and stood up. "What was that?" "I don't know. A woman. Wrong number maybe." Then his phone vibrated. Not a call. A picture message. Michael came to stand behind him. Daniel opened it. It was an old photograph. Faded at the edges. Taken with an old camera. A man in his forties, arms crossed, standing in front of a bungalow Daniel had never seen before. The man was their father. Richard Carter. The same suit, the same strict look he had in all the family portraits. But their father died fifteen years ago. This photo looked like it was taken just before he died. And next to him was a young woman. Maybe nineteen. Beautiful in a sad kind of way. Her hand was on his arm. Too familiar. Michael took the phone from his hand and zoomed in. His face changed. All the color left it. "You recognize her?" Daniel asked, his voice low. "No," Michael said too quickly. Too fast to be true. Another message came in. Six words. _SHE KNOWS WHAT YOUR FATHER DID._ Daniel's blood went cold. "What does that mean? What did Dad do?" Michael didn't answer. He was still staring at the girl in the photo, his hands shaking slightly. --- By 8pm, they were at the family house in Ikeja GRA. Their mother had been gone for five years, but her pictures were still everywhere. The house felt too big for just three brothers. The dining table was set for four, just like their mother used to do for their father every year. Jason finally walked in at 8:30, smelling of rain and expensive cologne, his shirt wet, grinning like he hadn't just disrespected their father's memory. Daniel grabbed him by the arm as he tried to walk past to the stairs. "You're late." "Traffic. Lagos rain. You know how it is," Jason said, shrugging him off with that careless smile. Then Jason's phone buzzed. He glanced at it. And his entire smile disappeared. Like someone switched off a light. Daniel saw it. "What? Who is it?" "Nothing." Jason locked his phone too fast. His hands were sweating. Michael walked over, quiet. He always knew when Jason was lying. "You're a terrible liar, you know that? What's on your phone?" Jason didn't answer. He pushed past them and went outside to the balcony, breathing hard. The rain was hitting the railings loud. Daniel followed him. "Jason. Who was that message from?" Jason leaned on the railing, rain hitting his face. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." "Try me." That's when they heard it. "Jason." Both brothers turned. A woman stood at the balcony door. She was completely soaked. Her dress stuck to her body. Her hair was plastered to her face, her makeup ruined. She looked like she'd been walking in the rain for hours to get here. And she looked terrified. Her eyes were red from crying. Jason went white. Actually white. Like he'd seen a ghost. Daniel looked from the woman to his brother. "You know her?" Jason couldn't speak. His mouth opened but no word came out. The woman stepped forward, her eyes locked only on Jason. She ignored Daniel completely. "I need to speak with you," she said to Jason. Her voice was shaking badly. "Please." "Who are you?" Daniel stepped in front of her, blocking her. She finally looked at him. Then at Michael, who had just walked out behind them. Tears filled her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. The same words from the phone. Michael frowned. "We've heard that before. Sorry for what?" With shaking hands, she opened her small, wet handbag and pulled out a brown envelope. Old. The kind their father used to use for important documents. The Carters' family seal was still on it. She held it out to Michael with both hands. "Your father left this for you. Before he died. He told me to give it to you when... when the time was right." Michael stared at the envelope but didn't take it. "How do you know our father?" She swallowed hard, tears now rolling down her face freely. "I'm the woman he loved. Before your mother." The air left the balcony. Daniel let out a short, angry laugh. "That's bullshit. You're lying. My father would never-" "I'm not," she said, looking at him with so much pain. "Ask him." She pointed a shaking finger at Jason. "Ask your brother what happened that night at the bungalow." Daniel slowly turned to look at Jason. His heart was beating too fast. "What night? Jason, what is she talking about?" Jason was shaking now. His eyes were red. He looked like a boy caught stealing. "I didn't kill anyone," he blurted out suddenly. "I swear, I didn't mean to— I wasn't supposed to be there! It was an accident!" Silence. Heavy silence. Only the rain. Michael's head snapped up. His calm face was gone. "Who said anything about killing?" Michael's voice was ice. Jason froze. He realized what he'd just said. His eyes went wide. Daniel took a step closer to him, his voice dangerously low, his fists clenched. "Jason... what happened that night? What did you do?" Jason looked at his brothers, at the woman, at the envelope in Michael's hand. He looked trapped. Then he whispered something that made Daniel's stomach drop to the floor: "I wasn't supposed to survive that night. She was." And the woman suddenly collapsed to the floor, unconscious. TO BE CONTINUED...