CHAPTER 1
I used to believe the truth always wins—until I saw what the perfect lie could do.
Everyone in Karen thought Wanjiku Mwangi had it all. A picture-perfect home tucked behind electric gates, a handsome husband in corporate finance, a little boy at Brookhouse, and a calm, elegant demeanor that made her the envy of weekend brunches at Artcaffe.
No one ever asked if she was truly happy.
Perfect Kenyan wives don’t complain. They endure.
Until the night her phone rang at 2:17 a.m., jolting her awake.
Her husband, David, was in Mombasa for a work conference. Or so he said.
The call came from an unknown number.
“This is Inspector Kamau from Central Police. Is this Mrs. Wanjiku Mwangi?”
Her breath caught in her throat.
“There’s been an incident.”
But David wasn’t dead.
He was missing.
His car was found abandoned near Makupa Bridge, keys still in the ignition. His wallet, watch, and phone lay on the passenger seat. No sign of struggle. No note.
Only questions.
The media descended fast:
“Top Investment Executive Mysteriously Disappears.”
“Was It Suicide… or Escape?”
Wanjiku appeared devastated. On National TV, her voice quivered as she pleaded for leads. She wore black, clutched tissues, sat beside her in-laws during the press briefing.
The perfect grieving wife.
But the truth?
She never shed a single tear when the cameras were off.
Because Wanjiku knew something no one else did:
David wasn’t missing.
He was running.
From her.
Six months before the disappearance, she’d found it all—
Foreign transactions to secret accounts in Mauritius, steamy texts from a woman in Kilifi, bookings for flights and villas made under a fake alias.
Wanjiku didn’t rage.
She observed.
She calculated.
Because when a man has been crafting his exit for years, you don’t confront him—you quietly push him out faster.
And then you make sure he never looks back.
Kenyans rallied behind her.
Colleagues brought her flowers. The women’s group at Church prayed over her.
She became the symbol of strength. Loss. Grace.
But one afternoon, as she returned from a court meeting about David’s estate, a small, unmarked envelope waited at her doorstep in Lavington.
Inside was a note.
No greeting. No name.
Just one line, scrawled in firm, familiar handwriting:
“You played it better than I did. But you forgot—Kenya is too small. I’m not dead.”
Her heart thudded against her ribs.
David was alive.
And watching.
Which meant her lie—the one she thought had set her free—was still breathing.
And it was hungry.
CHAPTER 2
Wanjiku stared at the note, her fingers trembling.
I’m not dead.
She read it again. And again.
The handwriting was unmistakable—sharp, slanted, calculated. David had always written in all caps, like a man who wanted to control how his words landed.
But he wasn’t supposed to have words anymore.
She had erased him. Carefully. Quietly. Permanently.
Or so she thought.
She walked back into the house, bolted the door, and locked every window—something she hadn’t done in months. Her son, Taji, was asleep upstairs. Peacefully. Blissfully unaware that the man he called “Dad” might be lurking in the shadows of Nairobi.
She stood in the living room, the silence of her high-ceilinged house suddenly deafening.
She grabbed her phone and dialed a number she hadn’t used in almost a year.
It rang once.
Then twice.
Then—
“Hallo?” came the voice, groggy but alert.
“Biko. It’s me.”
A pause.
Then: “Shiku… tell me you didn’t mess this up.”
She swallowed hard. “He’s alive.”
Another pause.
“You’re sure?”
“He sent a note. Hand-delivered. To my gate.”
Biko sighed on the other end. “This is why I told you not to get creative. You were supposed to wait. Let me handle it.”
“I didn’t need help,” she snapped. “I needed freedom.”
He laughed bitterly. “You don’t get freedom with men like David. You get fire.”
Across Town — Ngong Road
David stepped out of the shadows of a matatu stage near Prestige Plaza, unrecognizable.
Gone was the tailored suit and Rolex. In their place—faded jeans, a tattered hoodie, a small backpack slung over one shoulder. He walked with purpose, but his eyes darted constantly, scanning.
He knew Nairobi’s underbelly well. After all, you can’t steal millions in investment fraud without making a few enemies—and friends who know how to disappear.
The truth was, he hadn’t meant to fake his death.
Not originally.
But when he discovered that Wanjiku knew about his second life in Kilifi… when he saw how calm she stayed, how sweetly she served him ugali and sukuma on the very night he’d made a fake transfer of KSh 24 million…
He panicked.
Because she wasn’t a woman crying.
She was a woman calculating.
Back in Lavington, Wanjiku poured herself a glass of wine she didn’t drink and stared at the letter again.
She reached for her hidden drawer in the back of the bookshelf—the one even Taji didn’t know existed.
Inside were all the things she’d sworn she burned:
- A flash drive labeled “CCTV Footage – Kilifi”
- Copies of David’s fake passport
- A burner phone with only two numbers saved: Biko and Mama Rose
She picked up the burner and dialed Mama Rose.
“It’s happening,” Wanjiku said, voice cold.
Mama Rose didn’t need context. She had buried enough secrets for ten lifetimes.
“Do you want him gone?” she asked.
Wanjiku didn’t answer right away.
Because something had shifted.
She no longer wanted him dead.
She wanted to know:
Why did he come back?
What does he want now?
And worst of all—how much does he know?
Later that night…
A shadow crept past the hedges of Wanjiku’s compound. Silent. Patient.
Inside, she slept next to a taser under her pillow and a suitcase already half-packed.
She wasn’t scared.
She was prepared.
But she didn’t see the message David left etched into her back window in the morning dew:
“You took everything. Now I’m taking it back.”
Chapter 3: The Warning
Three days.
That’s how long it had been since the note arrived.
Since David’s words carved themselves into Wanjiku’s mind like a blade:
“You lied better than I did. But I’m not dead.”
Now, everything felt different.
The house in Lavington no longer felt like home. It felt like a crime scene with no body—just guilt, and eyes that might be watching from every corner.
Wanjiku didn’t run.
She recalibrated.
She woke up before dawn. Checked every door. Double-locked every window. Walked her son, Taji, to school herself instead of letting the driver handle it.
And still, she felt him.
Every turn. Every mirror. Every silence.
David.
That afternoon, she drove to a gated compound off Kiambu Road—one of those hidden places where secrets are bought, not shared. She passed through the guard post like a ghost, using a name no one had heard in years:
“Njambi M.”
Biko was waiting for her in the back garden, pacing.
He didn’t hug her. Didn’t smile.
“You should have told me sooner,” he said, voice low.
“He’s watching,” Wanjiku replied. “I can feel it.”
Biko handed her a folder. “We’ve been tracking movements. He’s using a new name—Dennis Mwangi. He’s already bought a sim card, and get this—he visited your old flat in South B. Spoke to the caretaker like he was just passing through.”
Wanjiku flipped through the photos inside. Grainy CCTV. A man in a cap. Sunglasses. Hoodie.
But she knew that frame.
That walk.
That shadow.
David was alive—and bold enough to come back to where it all began.
“Why would he go there?” she asked.
Biko hesitated. “Maybe he’s not just watching. Maybe he’s… building a case.”
Wanjiku froze. “You think he’s trying to expose me?”
“I think he wants to burn you the way you burned him,” Biko said. “And if he connects with anyone from your past, we’re in trouble.”
That night…
Wanjiku sat alone in her living room, the lights dim, the air tight. A faint knock came at the door—two short raps, then silence.
Her chest tightened.
She reached for the taser in her drawer.
Opened the door slowly.
It wasn’t David.
It was Mama Rose.
Wrapped in a leso, her face unreadable.
“I told you,” she said, stepping inside, “a lie is only perfect until someone lives to remember the truth.”
She sat down and pulled out an old envelope—yellowed, sealed, heavy.
“He gave this to me a year ago. Said if anything ever happened, I should give it to you.”
Wanjiku took it with shaking hands.
Inside—three things:
- A flash drive
- A single photo: David, Wanjiku, and a young woman Wanjiku barely recognized.
- And a handwritten note:
“You’re not the only one with secrets, Shiku. She knows everything.”
Wanjiku’s breath caught.
The woman in the photo?
Her name was Noni.
David’s half-sister. Estranged. Brilliant. Vengeful.
And very much alive.
Wanjiku had only met her once—ten years ago, at a funeral.
And now, it seemed Noni was the key to unraveling everything David had planned.
“Where is she?” Wanjiku asked, her voice cold.
Mama Rose’s eyes met hers. “Nanyuki. Running a wellness retreat. Off-grid. No social media. But she’s waiting for you.”
The next morning, Wanjiku packed a small bag.
Left Taji with her sister in Rongai.
And drove north—toward the mountains, toward the past, toward a woman who might be ally or enemy.
As the hills of Laikipia rose in the distance, so did her heartbeat.
Because Noni had every reason to hate her.
And if David was alive…
Noni was the one who could bring him back into the light.
Or bury them all in silence.
Chapter 4: Nanyuki’s Shadows
The drive to Nanyuki was long and quiet, the kind of silence that allowed old memories to crawl out from their hiding places.
Wanjiku kept her hands tight on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the road. The red soils of Laikipia stretched around her, dotted with acacias and distant shapes of grazing zebras.
But beauty did nothing to calm her.
Because at the end of this road wasn’t peace — it was the woman who could destroy everything.
The Retreat
It didn’t look like much.
A cluster of rustic cabins tucked behind a tall fence. A wooden sign read:
“GROW. HEAL. TRANSFORM.”
Wanjiku almost laughed.
A uniformed guard approached her car.
She gave a fake name and a practiced smile. A few minutes later, she was led to the largest cabin at the back — isolated by a hedge of fever trees.
Noni sat on the porch, barefoot, in a flowing white dress. Her dreadlocks were pulled back, her skin glowing under the highland sun. She looked like a woman who had finally made peace with her world.
But Wanjiku knew better.
Noni didn’t even stand. Just tilted her head, a sly smile dancing on her lips.
“Well, if it isn’t Nairobi’s most beloved widow.”
A Dangerous Conversation
Wanjiku sat opposite her, keeping her expression calm. “You got David’s note.”
Noni nodded, swirling a glass of herbal juice. “Of course I did. He planned for this. For you to come running when the heat got too close.”
Wanjiku stiffened. “Why would I be running?”
“Because, Shiku, you’re a brilliant liar. But your husband was smarter. He knew you’d eventually try to erase him.”
Wanjiku’s voice was icy. “He erased himself.”
Noni’s smile faded. Her eyes hardened.
“No, sweetheart. You forced him into the shadows. Now he’s clawing his way back. And the problem for you is — he left me a little insurance. Files, bank statements, photos. Proof of what you did.”
She leaned forward, close enough for Wanjiku to smell the mint on her breath.
“If David’s found dead in any real sense of the word — or if anything happens to me — every dirty secret you’ve ever tried to bury goes to the police. And to your precious son when he turns eighteen.”
Revelations
Wanjiku clenched her fists. “So why am I here, Noni? If you could destroy me already, why wait?”
Noni shrugged. “Because Nairobi is messy. The police can be bought, but so can I. And because, deep down, I like the idea of watching you sweat. Watching your perfect life slip through your fingers.”
Wanjiku exhaled slowly. “What do you want?”
Noni’s eyes glittered.
“I want you to help me find David. Before he tries to drag me down too. Because trust me, sister — he’s not coming back for reconciliation. He’s coming for vengeance. For both of us.”
Nightfall in the Highlands
Wanjiku left the cabin at dusk, her mind racing.
As she walked back to her car, her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
“You went to Nanyuki. Good. Now come home. Before I bring the truth to your doorstep.”
She spun around.
Nothing but trees and a pale, cold wind.
Somewhere out there, David was watching.
Still pulling the strings.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, Wanjiku realized — she might not be the hunter anymore.
She was the prey.
Chapter 5: When Home Turns Hollow
The drive back to Nairobi was a blur.
Wanjiku’s thoughts tangled with every kilometre, winding tighter around her throat.
Noni’s words haunted her:
“He’s not coming back for reconciliation. He’s coming for vengeance. For both of us.”
By the time she reached Lavington, dusk had settled. The city glowed in soft amber, but her home — usually a haven of neat hedges and warm light — felt cold, almost sinister.
She pulled into the driveway, fingers drumming the steering wheel, half-expecting David to step out of the shadows.
Nothing.
Still, she double-checked every lock before stepping inside.
Inside the House
Taji’s laughter drifted from the sitting room where he was sprawled on the rug, building a tower of toy cars.
“Mummy! Look, I made a garage!”
Her heart squeezed. His innocence was a fragile, breakable thing — one she would die to protect.
She bent down, kissed his head, then sent him off to get ready for bed.
As she tidied up the toys, something caught her eye.
A small folded note tucked beneath the coffee table. Her breath snagged.
She picked it up with trembling fingers.
On the outside, it simply read:
“For Taji, when he’s older.”
Inside — a single line, written in that unmistakable, slanted print:
“Ask your mother what really happened to Daddy.”
She nearly collapsed.
Her vision blurred. The room seemed to tilt.
Wanjiku forced herself to breathe. To stay calm.
David had been inside her house.
Near Taji.
Watching. Waiting.
Later That Night
She sat on the edge of her bed, phone in hand, staring at her contact list. Her thumb hovered over Biko’s number, then moved on to Mama Rose, then back.
Who could really help her?
She thought of the hidden flash drive in her bookshelf, of all the proof of David’s scams, his offshore accounts, the tangled mess they’d both created.
She thought of how close it all was to shattering.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
“Did Taji like my little gift? I’ve missed my boy. Missed you too. See you soon.”
The hallway light flickered.
She looked up, heart hammering.
A faint creak.
Footsteps.
Coming from Taji’s room.
Chapter 6: Echoes in the Dark
The creak came again.
From Taji’s room.
Wanjiku’s heart pounded so hard it felt like it might crack her ribs. She crept down the hall, one trembling hand clutching the taser she’d kept tucked in her dressing table.
“Taji?” she called softly.
No answer.
She pushed the door open.
Inside the Room
Taji lay asleep on the bed, curled around his favourite stuffed giraffe. His small chest rose and fell peacefully.
But the window was open. Curtains fluttered with the night breeze.
On the floor — muddy footprints.
Wanjiku’s breath seized.
She scanned the room. Nothing else seemed disturbed. She forced herself to move, to lock the window tight, to wipe away every smudge of mud so Taji wouldn’t see.
Only when she turned to tuck him back in did she notice something under his pillow.
A tiny, glinting object.
She pulled it out with trembling fingers.
A Necklace.
Silver. With a pendant she knew far too well.
David’s pendant.
The one he wore every day, that rested against his chest even in bed, its tiny engraving — “Forever. W+D.” — a cruel memory of better days.
She almost dropped it.
Was it meant to taunt her? Or warn her that he could reach them anytime he wanted?
Her stomach lurched. She tucked the necklace into her pocket and kissed Taji’s forehead.
In the Kitchen
She tried to collect herself, poured a glass of water, her hands shaking so badly half of it spilled.
Then her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number:
“Sweet dreams, Shiku. Hold him tight. While you still can.”
Her blood went cold.
The Next Morning – Lavington
She couldn’t pretend anymore. Couldn’t rely on Biko’s quiet threats or Mama Rose’s veiled warnings.
David was inside her walls. Inside her life.
So she called the one person she’d sworn she’d never involve — her older brother, Kamau.
A retired CID detective, Kamau had distanced himself from her messy marriage years ago.
But when he heard the panic in her voice, he didn’t hesitate.
By evening, he was standing in her kitchen, arms crossed, eyes hard.
“Tell me everything. From the start.”
A Family Confession
Wanjiku broke.
The perfect lie spilled out.
The offshore accounts. The forged papers. David’s growing paranoia. Her push to force him into hiding — never expecting him to actually vanish.
Kamau didn’t interrupt.
When she finished, he let out a long breath.
“You didn’t just marry a liar, Shiku. You became one. And now he’s back for blood.”
Her eyes filled. “I don’t care what happens to me. But Taji—”
Kamau stepped forward, gripping her shoulder.
“He’s my blood too. We’ll handle this. But I need you to be honest. Is there anything — anything — David could still use to ruin you?”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
“The flash drive. It’s the last piece. If David finds it before we move it, he can prove everything. And take Taji away from me forever.”
Kamau’s eyes darkened.
“Then we get it. Tonight. And we finish this.”
But neither of them noticed the small blinking light at the corner of the kitchen — tucked behind the coffee grinder.
A hidden camera.
Recording every word.
Across Town – Kilimani
David watched the video feed on his laptop, a smile spreading across his face.
So that’s where it was.
The flash drive.
The final proof.
And now, he just had to take it.
Chapter 7: The Break-In
The night was thick with Nairobi humidity, that heavy feeling before rain.
Inside Wanjiku’s house, every light was off except a small lamp in the living room. Kamau sat in an armchair, pistol resting on his thigh, eyes fixed on the front door.
Wanjiku paced the hall, clutching Taji’s favourite blanket. Her heart felt like it was being slowly shredded.
Upstairs, Taji slept in Kamau’s old police vest, far too big for him, but strangely comforting.
Waiting
They both knew it was only a matter of time.
The last message from David hadn’t come. The silence was worse than threats.
Kamau whispered, “He’s not just after the flash drive, Shiku. He wants to break you. Destroy your reputation, your motherhood, maybe even take Taji himself. That’s why you’ll stay with the boy tonight. I’ll handle the rest.”
She wanted to argue — but deep down she was grateful.
2:14 a.m.
The lock turned.
Soft. Precise.
Wanjiku’s breath caught. Her hand flew to her mouth.
She peered through the crack of the bedroom door and saw a shadow slip inside the house.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Moving like he owned every room.
Kamau rose slowly from his chair, gun lifting, aimed steady.
“Stop right there, David.”
The Confrontation
David froze.
Then slowly turned, hands up, a mocking smile on his face.
“Kamau. Always the big brother with the gun. Tell me — does she cry to you about what a terrible husband I was? How I ruined her life?”
Kamau didn’t flinch. “You walked out on your son. You threatened my sister. You’re lucky I didn’t pull this trigger months ago.”
David stepped closer, eyes dark, almost gleeful.
“I didn’t come to kill anyone. I came for what’s mine. The drive. Once I have it, you’ll never see me again. Isn’t that what everyone wants?”
Kamau’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Not happening.”
Upstairs
Wanjiku hugged Taji close, trying to keep him asleep. But her pulse was roaring in her ears.
Then — a small squeak on the stairs.
She turned.
David.
Standing there.
How had he slipped past Kamau so fast?
He held Kamau’s pistol now, pointed straight at her.
Kamau lay slumped by the kitchen counter — breathing, but out cold, a bleeding gash on his forehead.
David’s Smile
David’s voice was calm. Almost tender.
“You should’ve let me disappear, Shiku. But you couldn’t. Because your perfect life needs the perfect lie, doesn’t it?”
He stepped closer, gun unwavering.
“Give me the drive. Or I’ll make sure Taji learns exactly who his mother is.”
Wanjiku’s eyes burned with tears. Not of fear. Of rage.
“He’ll never see it. Never know your sickness. Because you won’t get out of this house alive.”
A Hidden Player
Suddenly — a loud crack.
David staggered.
Blood blossomed on his shoulder.
Behind him, at the top of the stairs, stood Mama Rose, hands shock-steady around a small, ancient revolver.
Her voice was cold as ice.
“I told you once, David. You don’t get to haunt this family twice.”
David dropped to his knees, the gun clattering away.
Wanjiku rushed forward, kicking the weapon down the hall, grabbing Taji in her arms. Kamau pulled himself upright, wincing, and pinned David to the floor.
Mama Rose came down the steps, eyes fierce.
“Finish it, Kamau,” she said. “Before he ever gets another chance.”
Kamau looked at David — broken, bleeding, still smiling through the pain.
But Wanjiku shook her head.
“No. Let him live. Let him face the courts. Let him rot knowing I won.”
David laughed, a low, cracked sound.
“You think this is over, Shiku? Nairobi never forgets. And neither will Taji. One day, he’ll come looking for the truth. And when he does—”
Kamau punched him hard enough to drop him unconscious.
Silence.
Finally.
Chapter 8: The Last Card
Two months later…
The headlines were relentless.
“FORMER BANKER DAVID MWANGI FACES MULTIPLE FRAUD AND ASSAULT CHARGES.”
“WIFE’S TESTIMONY EXPOSES MASSIVE OFFSHORE SCHEME.”
“CHILD AT THE CENTER OF BITTER COURTROOM DRAMA.”
Nairobi couldn’t get enough of Wanjiku’s scandal. Paparazzi parked outside her gate. Talk shows dissected her every choice. Social media made her a hashtag.
In public, she wore sunglasses, kept her head down, ignored the whispers.
In private, her hands still shook when the house creaked at night.
Inside the Courtroom – Milimani
David sat at the defense table, thin and pale in his ill-fitting remand uniform. But his eyes were bright with cruel delight.
Whenever Wanjiku testified, he watched her — drank in every tremor of her voice, every quick glance at Taji seated quietly beside Mama Rose.
His lawyer played dirty.
Brought up old emails.
Hints of “complicity.”
Claims Wanjiku knew about the fraud all along.
She held firm.
For Taji. For her brother, Kamau, seated stoic in the gallery. For herself.
The Unthinkable
Just when it seemed the trial was closing against David, his lawyer dropped a bombshell.
A letter, supposedly written by David months before he disappeared.
In it, he claimed he only fled because he feared Wanjiku — accused her of manipulating finances, orchestrating threats, even poisoning him slowly.
It was a lie so outrageous the courtroom buzzed. But it was enough to rattle the judge, force delays, order new investigations.
Back at Home – Lavington
Wanjiku sat alone on her balcony that night, staring at the city lights.
Kamau joined her, setting down a cup of tea.
“He’s desperate,” Kamau said. “Trying to muddy the waters. But you’ll win. The evidence is too strong.”
She nodded. But her chest ached.
“Will I really, though? Even if the judge rules in my favour — the story’s already out there. Taji will grow up with this.”
Kamau didn’t try to lie. Just squeezed her hand.
A Shadow at the Gate
The next day, as she returned from dropping Taji at school, a small envelope was waiting at her doorstep.
Her stomach dropped.
She ripped it open.
Inside was a photo.
Taji.
Sitting on a swing at school. Smiling.
And scrawled across the bottom in blocky handwriting:
“This isn’t over. Not even close.”
Her breath seized.
Not from fear.
From fury.
Because if David thought prison bars would stop him — or whoever he’d managed to bribe on the outside — he was about to learn exactly how far she’d go to protect her son.
She pulled out her phone and dialed.
“Biko. It’s time we finish this. Properly.”
Chapter 9: The Betrayal
Nairobi’s mornings were cruel.
The sun rose bright, almost mocking, as if the city itself had no memory of last night’s terrors.
Wanjiku watched from her balcony, phone pressed to her ear.
“Biko, I don’t want him scared. I want him cornered,” she said, voice flat.
Biko’s laugh crackled through the line. “Shiku, you’ve finally come around. I’ll find out who’s running David’s errands. And when I do, it won’t be pretty.”
The Investigation Begins
Biko worked fast.
Two days later, he called her to a dingy, abandoned warehouse off Kangundo Road, where his contacts met him.
She parked her car carefully, heart racing as she stepped into the shadows.
Inside, Biko stood with two grim-faced men. On a rickety chair between them — a young man, tied up, face bruised.
Biko gestured at him. “Meet Felix. Small-time courier. Been dropping those letters at your gate. Paid in cash. Guess by who?”
Wanjiku crossed her arms. “David.”
Felix shook his head wildly. “No, madam! Not him. I never met that man. A woman hired me.”
A Woman?
Wanjiku’s heart stuttered.
“Describe her.”
“Tall. Light skin. Pretty. Dressed nice, like someone from State House. Drove a blue Prado. Called herself Noni.”
Wanjiku stepped back like she’d been slapped.
Biko’s eyes narrowed. “Your husband’s sister? I thought she wanted David gone just as badly as you.”
“Apparently,” Wanjiku said, voice icy, “she wants something else even more.”
A Dangerous Visit – Kilimani
Hours later, Wanjiku walked up the steps to Noni’s sleek apartment in Kilimani. The guard tried to stop her. She brushed past him.
Noni opened her door in a silky robe, eyebrows lifting. “Shiku. You look like hell. Tea?”
Wanjiku slapped the teacup out of her hand. It shattered on the floor.
“Why are you threatening my son? Using street boys to drop photos like a coward?”
Noni didn’t flinch. Just picked up a shard of porcelain and turned it slowly in her hand.
“You still don’t get it, do you? David might rot in prison, but your scandal is gold. Everyone wants to see the mighty fall. Especially when it’s you. And if Taji grows up with that stain — well, that’s just life, isn’t it? Our fathers did worse to us.”
The Final Straw
Wanjiku’s voice was deadly calm. “Stay away from my family, Noni. Or I promise you — blood will answer for blood.”
Noni laughed, soft and cruel. “Sweetheart, you already crossed that line. I’m just making sure you never forget it.”
Outside
Wanjiku stood on the curb, shaking. Her phone buzzed — a message from Biko.
“I’ve traced Noni’s payments. Offshore. Same networks David used. They’re working together. This was never about revenge. It’s about finishing the game you started.”
Wanjiku’s hands curled into fists.
David.
Noni.
Both snakes in the same pit.
She looked back at Noni’s apartment window, where the curtain moved slightly. Watching. Smug.
Wanjiku dialed Kamau.
“It’s time. Get your old friends. The ones who don’t ask questions.”
That Night – Lavington
Wanjiku kissed Taji’s head while he slept.
Then went downstairs where Kamau waited, packing up silencers and paperwork.
“This ends tonight,” he told her.
Wanjiku didn’t smile.
“Tonight,” she said, “we stop living afraid.”
Chapter 10: The Reckoning
Nairobi never really sleeps.
Even at midnight, streets hummed with life — bodas darting past, street hawkers calling out, the smell of mutura curling through the air.
But in Kilimani, the roads near Noni’s apartment complex were unusually still.
A black Land Cruiser idled a few meters away, lights off. Inside, Kamau checked his watch. Biko sat beside him, thumbing through text messages.
Behind them, Wanjiku gripped her purse so tightly her knuckles whitened. Inside wasn’t lipstick or car keys — it was the tiny revolver Mama Rose once used to shoot David.
Setting the Trap
“Are you sure about this?” Kamau asked.
Wanjiku’s eyes were hard. “I’m done letting them dictate my life. Tonight, we finish it — or they finish us.”
Biko leaned forward. “She thinks you’re coming alone. She’s greedy for that flash drive. Play it smart, give us the signal, and we’ll do the rest.”
Wanjiku nodded, exhaled shakily, and stepped out into the night.
The Apartment
Noni opened the door with a bright smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Brought it, I hope?” she purred.
Wanjiku didn’t answer. Just placed the flash drive on the table.
Noni snatched it up, eyes glittering. “Finally. After all these games. Nairobi will love this. You’ll lose everything — your wealth, your precious motherhood. Maybe even Taji.”
A Surprise Guest
Then from the back room, David emerged.
Not the broken prisoner. This David was cleaned up, smug, in a crisp white shirt, a faint scar on his shoulder where Mama Rose’s bullet had torn through.
“Shiku,” he drawled, “we never finished our story, did we?”
Her stomach twisted. But her hand stayed calm on her purse.
“You came back from the grave for this? To destroy me?”
David smiled. “No, love. To remind you — power is about who holds the truth. And soon, that’s me.”
The Signal
Wanjiku’s phone buzzed.
She slipped it into her pocket, clicking the silent trigger that sent an alert to Kamau outside.
Then looked David square in the eyes.
“You want the truth, David? Here it is: I never feared you. I pitied you. Because you needed me more than I ever needed you.”
David’s face darkened. He stepped forward, hand raising to strike—
CRASH!
The door flew open. Kamau burst in with two men behind him, guns drawn. Biko followed, locking the door behind them.
“Game’s up,” Kamau growled.
The Standoff
David grabbed Noni by the wrist, pulling her close, pressing a knife he’d hidden at her side.
“One step closer and I’ll slit her open!” he barked.
Noni’s eyes widened in panic. “David— what are you doing? We’re on the same side!”
“Not anymore,” he hissed. “I’m done being your puppet too.”
Everything Explodes
Wanjiku’s world slowed.
She saw Kamau’s arm rise.
Saw David tighten his grip on the blade.
Saw Noni twist, trying to break free—
BANG!
The shot roared through the tiny apartment.
Noni slumped in David’s arms, blood spreading down her dress. David’s eyes went wild — then empty. He let her drop and staggered backward.
Another shot. David jerked, then fell across the couch, eyes glassy, mouth still forming curses.
Silence.
Aftermath
Biko lowered his smoking pistol. “Both problems solved.”
Kamau’s hand was on Wanjiku’s shoulder, grounding her.
She stared at David’s lifeless body, then at Noni’s twisted on the floor.
Her breath came shallow, her heart racing — but deeper than the horror, there was relief.
Taji was safe.
Two Weeks Later — Lavington
The papers speculated wildly:
“Betrayal in Kilimani: Notorious Fraudster and Sister Found Dead in Apparent Criminal Feud.”
No mention of Wanjiku. No mention of Kamau.
Her story remained hers to tell — or not.
One evening, she sat on the porch, Taji on her lap, reading a storybook.
He looked up, wide-eyed.
“Mummy, why do people lie?”
She kissed his forehead.
“Because sometimes, my love, it’s the only way they know how to survive.”
But deep inside, she promised herself — Taji would grow up free of the shadows she’d danced with.
No more lies.
Not ever again.
✅ THE END