he's watching
527 Words
Lora didn’t drive home.
She didn’t drive to her new apartment either.
She drove in circles for 20 minutes with the black SUV two cars behind her.
Heart in her throat, she pulled into a busy market in Wuse. People. Cameras. Safety.
The SUV slowed at the entrance... then kept going.
She exhaled. Her hands were still shaking.
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
She answered on the second ring.
“Lora?” Auntie Ngozi’s voice was low. Hurried. “Are you alone?”
“I’m at Wuse Market. I think someone was following me.”
A long pause.
“Amira’s trust fund,” Auntie said. “Don’t talk about it on the phone. Not yet.”
Lora gripped the steering wheel. “You knew about it?”
“I was at the bank when Amira set it up. 15 million. Locked until you turned 21.”
Auntie’s voice cracked. “James Daniels was listed as trustee. I told Amira not to do it. I told her.”
“Why?”
“Because he asked questions. Too many questions about the money before she even died.”
Lora’s stomach dropped. “Did you tell anyone?”
“I tried. After the funeral. But the papers were already signed. And James... he has lawyers. He has power, Lora.”
A car horn blared. Lora jumped.
“Auntie, meet me. Tomorrow. Somewhere public. I need to see the bank records.”
“Not tomorrow.” Auntie sounded scared now. “He called me today. Asked if I’d heard from you.”
The world went cold.
“He knows I called you,” Lora whispered.
“He knows everything, Lora. He’s always known.”
The call cut off.
Lora stared at her phone.
Then her mirror.
A black SUV was parked across the street. Engine off. Tinted windows.
She couldn’t see inside.
She grabbed her bag and got out. Walked fast through the market. Didn’t look back.
Took 3 different kekes. Got off 2 stops early.
By the time she reached her new apartment, it was dark.
Empty. No furniture yet. Just her boxes and a mattress on the floor.
She locked the door. Pushed a chair against it.
And then she saw it.
On the floor. By the window.
A small black device. Blinking red.
A tracker.
Her breath caught.
She picked it up with a tissue.
Underneath it, written on the floor in dust:
*COME HOME*
Her phone buzzed again.
Mr. Daniels.
Text: _You forgot your birth certificate. And you forgot who took care of you. Come home, Lora. We need to talk._
Outside her window, on the street below:
The black SUV. Parked. Waiting.
She wasn’t safe here.
She wasn’t safe anywhere.
But she had one thing he didn’t expect.
Auntie Ngozi knew something.
And Lora was going to find out what.
She texted Auntie back from a new SIM she bought at the market:
_Meet me. National Mosque. 10am. Wear blue._
She hit send before she could change her mind.
10 minutes later, another text came in.
Unknown number.
_Don’t._
she stared blankly at the phone, more questions kept coming up.
who really was my Daniels ?
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