Chapter 45: The Woman at the Gate
The farmhouse had started to feel almost safe by the third day. Mornings were quiet—coffee on the porch, Bella reading baby name books in the rocking chair, Rico teaching Marcus how to make jollof rice without burning it (he failed twice, cursed in Yoruba, then tried again). Lydia spent most of her time in the converted office, screens glowing, chasing the last threads of Dragomir’s money.
We were eating lunch—leftover jollof and cold flan—when the gate buzzer went off.
Everyone froze.
Marcus was up first, g*n already in hand. “Stay here.”
Lydia pulled up the security feed on her tablet. “One vehicle. Black SUV. Single occupant. No plates visible. Driver’s face is turned away from the camera.”
Rico stood, hand on his knife. “Could be a delivery. Coul
