The school day dragged on with agonizing slowness. Zara tried to focus in class, but her mind kept drifting back to the note in her bag. Who could have left it? And why did it mention her father? By the time the final bell rang, she had run through every possible scenario in her head—from elaborate pranks to something far more serious.
Mia caught up with her at her locker. "So, how was your second day?"
Zara hesitated. Should she tell Mia about the note? No, she decided. Not yet. "It was okay. Still getting used to everything."
"Well, at least you didn't end up on Jessica's bad side again," Mia joked, giving her a nudge.
Zara forced a laugh, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She had already made up her mind: she was going to the library.
The old library wasn't part of Ridgewood High's main building. It was an older structure tucked away at the far edge of the campus, its brick walls covered in ivy. Zara had passed by it once during a campus tour but had never gone inside.
As she approached, she noticed how eerily quiet it was compared to the bustling school grounds. The wooden doors creaked loudly as she pushed them open, and the faint smell of old books and dust greeted her.
"Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing through the empty space.
No answer.
Zara stepped inside, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. The library was dimly lit, with tall shelves casting long shadows. She clutched her bag tightly, her heart pounding in her chest.
Was this a mistake?
"Zara Okoye," a voice said, startling her.
She spun around to see a man in his mid-30s standing near one of the shelves. He was dressed in a dark jacket and jeans, his expression unreadable.
"Who are you?" Zara demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.
"My name is Ryan. I was a colleague of your father's," he said calmly, stepping closer.
Zara froze. Her father had rarely talked about his work. What could this man possibly want from her?
"I'm sorry to meet you like this," Ryan continued, his tone softening. "But there are things you need to know about your father—and about why he was killed."
"Killed?" Zara's voice trembled. "What are you talking about? He had a heart attack."
Ryan shook his head. "That's what they wanted you to believe."
Ryan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope. "Your father was working on something important before he died. Something dangerous. These artifacts—"
Zara cut him off. "How do you know about the artifacts?"
"Because he trusted me," Ryan said firmly. "He told me to find you if anything happened to him."
Zara stared at the envelope in his hand. Her instincts told her to run, to walk away from this stranger and whatever trouble he was offering. But a stronger part of her—a part fueled by grief, curiosity, and a desperate need for answers—told her to stay.
"What's in there?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ryan handed her the envelope. Inside was a faded photograph of her father, standing beside a woman Zara didn't recognize. In the background was a display case filled with gleaming artifacts.
"These were part of his last project," Ryan explained. "He believed they were stolen from a Nigerian museum decades ago. He was trying to prove it and get them returned."
Zara's hands trembled as she stared at the photo. "But what does that have to do with me?"
"Everything," Ryan said. "He left clues for you, Zara. He believed you could finish what he started."
"This is insane," Zara said, shaking her head. "I don't even know where to begin."
"You don't have to decide now," Ryan replied. "But be careful. There are people who don't want the truth to come out. They'll do anything to keep these artifacts where they are."
Zara's chest tightened. "You're saying… I'm in danger?"
Ryan nodded gravely. "If they find out you're involved, yes."
Zara felt a wave of fear and anger. She hadn't asked for any of this. She was just a teenager trying to survive high school, not some investigator chasing down stolen treasures.
But then she thought of her father—his laughter, his stories, his unshakable sense of justice. If what Ryan said was true, then her father had died fighting for something he believed in.
And now it was her turn.
When Zara finally left the library, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the school grounds. Her mind was a whirlwind of questions, doubts, and emotions.
As she walked home, she clutched the photo tightly in her hand. She didn't know what lay ahead, but one thing was clear: she wasn't ready to let her father's legacy be buried.
Whatever it took, she would find the truth.
That night, as Zara lay in bed, she heard the faint buzz of her phone. It was a blocked number.
She hesitated before answering. "Hello?"
A distorted voice came through the line: "Stay away from the library, Zara. This is your only warning."
Her blood ran cold.