Chapter 33: Address Of a Ghost
1134 Words
Bonny’s POV
I forgot how to breathe.
The restaurant vanished.
The clink of glasses.
Soft music.
Expensive laughter.
All of it dissolved beneath one sentence.
A current address connected to Naledi Maseko.
Not alive.
Not dead.
Not found.
Just connected.
Cruelest possible wording.
“Adrian.”
My voice came out thin.
“Tell me everything.”
He glanced at the screen again.
“It’s preliminary.”
“I hate that word.”
“So do I.”
Vivienne rose immediately.
“We’re leaving.”
No argument.
No bill discussion.
No delay.
Power moved around her like trained staff.
Within two minutes we were in the car.
I sat beside Adrian in silence so tight it hurt.
The envelope remained in my lap like evidence from another life.
Vivienne sat opposite us, already making calls.
“Get the full trace,” she said coolly into her phone. “Property ownership, utilities, next of kin, neighbors if needed. Quietly.”
She ended the call and looked at me.
“We do not go in blind.”
“I’d rather go now.”
“That is why I am in charge of logistics.”
“I didn’t appoint you.”
“No,” she said smoothly. “Life did.”
Adrian almost smiled.
Traitor.
---
The drive felt endless.
My thoughts were worse.
What if she was alive?
What if she had another family?
What if she hated me?
What if she had searched until she stopped?
What if she never stopped?
What if the address belonged to a grave?
I pressed my palms together hard enough to hurt.
Adrian noticed.
Of course he did.
He took one hand and untangled my fingers.
“You’re spiraling.”
“I’m theorizing.”
“You’re catastrophizing.”
“I’m versatile.”
That earned the smallest breath of amusement from him.
Useful.
He kept holding my hand the rest of the drive.
No speeches.
Just contact.
Sometimes that was louder.
---
We returned to the penthouse.
Mara met us in the foyer and looked at my face once.
Then opened her arms.
I walked straight into them.
No hesitation.
No dignity.
She held me tightly.
“What happened?”
“We found a possible address linked to Naledi,” Vivienne said.
Mara’s grip on me tightened sharply.
“You found what?”
Adrian looked between them.
“You knew she stayed in Gauteng?”
Mara stepped back slowly.
“I knew she had family somewhere near Pretoria years ago.”
I blinked.
“You knew that and didn’t say anything?”
Pain crossed her face.
“I knew fragments, Bonny. Not roads. Not certainty. I would never give you false hope casually.”
Fair.
Painful.
But fair.
Kristy ran into the room wearing mismatched socks and carrying Buttons upside down.
“Why is everyone sad?”
No one answered fast enough.
She looked at me.
Then marched over and handed me Buttons.
“For comfort.”
I nearly cried again.
Children should be illegal.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
She nodded importantly.
“I know medicine.”
Then ran off.
The room exhaled.
---
An hour later, Adrian’s study became a command center.
Documents covered the desk.
Vanessa had appeared with a laptop, two phones, and the energy of someone nourished by crisis.
“I love emergencies,” she said.
“You should never say that aloud,” Adrian replied.
She ignored him.
“Address is in Arcadia. Older property. Utility account inactive three years, reactivated six months ago under third-party payment.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means either someone moved in, someone is maintaining it, or bureaucracy malfunctioned.”
“Most likely?”
“Someone.”
Vivienne stood near the window.
“Ownership?”
“Transferred twice. Original owner deceased. Last private transfer through trust structure.”
Adrian’s tone cooled.
“Anonymous?”
“Trying to be.”
He looked at Vanessa.
“Pierce it.”
She smiled darkly.
“With pleasure.”
I sat on the sofa, trying to keep up with rich people verbs.
Pierce it.
Trace it.
Acquire it.
Meanwhile I was barely holding myself together.
Mara brought tea.
I took it with shaking hands.
She sat beside me quietly.
“Whatever happens,” she said, “you are not the abandoned story they gave you.”
That sentence entered me like light.
I leaned against her shoulder.
Just for a second.
Maybe longer.
---
By evening we had enough to go.
I changed clothes three times.
Everything felt wrong.
Too formal.
Too casual.
Too hopeful.
Too desperate.
When I finally emerged in jeans and a sweater, Adrian looked up from his phone.
“You look fine.”
“That means nothing from you.”
“It means you look fine.”
“Emotionally unavailable compliment.”
“Accepted.”
Vivienne, already in a tailored coat, glanced at me.
“You look like someone about to reclaim narrative.”
I stared.
“Was that encouragement?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Family trait.
---
The drive to Arcadia was quieter than the first.
Pretoria lights blurred past.
My pulse kept time with traffic signals.
Red.
Green.
Red.
Go.
Stop.
Go.
When we turned onto a jacaranda-lined street, my chest tightened.
Older houses.
High walls.
Mature trees.
The kind of neighborhood where secrets aged quietly.
The car slowed before a pale blue gate.
Number 18.
No lights visible from the road.
No movement.
No sound.
Vanessa checked her tablet.
“This is it.”
I stared at the gate.
My whole body knew something before my mind did.
A sensation impossible to explain.
Fear.
Recognition.
Grief.
Hope.
All at once.
Adrian touched my wrist.
“We can leave.”
“No.”
“Wait.”
“No.”
“Breathe first.”
I glared at him.
Then breathed.
Annoying man.
Vivienne looked at the property.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“The garden.”
I frowned.
Beyond the gate, visible through slats, were rows of white flowers.
Mara, seated beside me, made a strangled sound.
“What is it?” I asked.
Tears filled her eyes instantly.
“Naledi loved white lilies.”
My heart slammed so hard it hurt.
Someone was tending lilies.
At this house.
Now.
Adrian opened the car door.
“Stay behind me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Bonny.”
“Adrian.”
Vivienne sighed.
“You’re both impossible. Open the gate.”
Vanessa pressed the intercom.
Static.
Then a woman’s voice answered.
Soft.
Older.
Shaken.
“Yes?”
Every hair on my body rose.
Mara gripped my hand so tightly it hurt.
I leaned toward the speaker.
My voice broke on the first word.
“Hello… is Naledi Maseko there?”
Silence.
Then the woman on the intercom began to cry.
- Writer
