Chapter 3: Midnight Trace

The wall clock in the corner of the guest room ticked with a loud, rhythmic precision that made the silence in the mansion feel heavier.

It was 1:45 AM.

Amara lay perfectly still beneath the heavy cream silk sheets, her eyes wide open, staring up at the dark plaster ceiling.

She was wearing the black lace nightgown.

She hadn’t wanted to put it on, but the memory of Chidinma’s cold, unyielding stare before she left the room at dinner time had forced her hands.

The fabric was practically invisible against her skin, offering no warmth, no protection, and no dignity.

Every tiny sound inside the massive Lekki estate made her muscles jump.

The hum of the outdoor generator.

The distant rustle of palm trees against the balcony glass.

The creak of the house settling.

It all felt amplified.

She tried to tell herself she was safe.

She tried to think of her mother, praying silently to the God she had left behind in the village chapel, begging for the familiar, peaceful routine of Owerri.

But the heavy vanilla perfume that still lingered in the curtains kept suffocating her prayers.

Then, she heard it.

The soft, metallic click of the double wooden doors unlocking.

Amara’s heart slammed into her ribs.

She instantly closed her eyes, forcing her breathing to slow down, mimicking the heavy, rhythmic patterns of deep sleep.

She turned her body slightly toward the balcony, pulling the silk sheet tightly up to her chin, clutching the fabric until her knuckles turned ash-white in the dark.