The room was faintly lighted, with a brass desk lamp providing a faint glow on the polished wood top. Dr. Dapo Onyeka sat in the leather recliner, whirling a tumbler of whiskey in his hands. He'd always thought of this room as his refuge, a place to contemplate and escape. But tonight, it provided no relief.
His thoughts swirled, darker than the amber liquid in the glass. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the memories of that night. It tormented him, appearing in his nightmares and following him like a shadow. The past was meant to remain buried. He had assured me that it would. Yet here he was, caught by the weight of what had occurred.
It had been a wet night, one of those storms that appeared to rip the sky apart with their fury. The house had been unusually quiet, with the staff hidden away in their rooms and Adaora upstairs with the children. Nneka had been in the garden, regardless of the weather.
Dapo still didn't understand why she'd gone outdoors that night. She was so young, scarcely more than a kid, yet there was something about her that was restless and aware. She had always been inquisitive, often asking questions. Too many questions.
He discovered her there, wet to the bone and holding something in her hands. A little, old wooden box that seemed to have been buried for years.
"What are you doing out here?" he screamed, his voice rough in the midst of the storm.
Nneka gazed up at him, her big eyes sparkling with rain and something else: terror. "I found it," she had muttered. "I found the truth."
Those comments hit him like a punch. The truth. How much had she uncovered? How much did she know?
"Give that to me," he had said, reaching for the package.
"No!" Nneka took a step back, grasping the box more tightly. "You have lied to us. All of you. "I understand what you did."
Dapo had never felt terror like this before. He had attempted to reason with her and calm her down, but she would not listen. She had turned and fled, her little form vanishing into the darkness.
He'd pursued her, his pulse racing as he yelled her name. The rain had made the terrain slippery and hazardous. He recalled hearing her cry, shrill and abrupt, as she lost her footing on the edge of the garden hill.
When he got to her, it was too late.
Dapo took a long swallow of whiskey, his palm quivering as he placed it down. The recollection was as clear as it had been that night. The sight of Nneka's motionless corpse, her hand still clutching the box, and his own breath seized in his throat as the reality struck.
He had acted on impulse, his thoughts racing as he attempted to put together a strategy. Adaora had come outdoors, lured by the noise. Her gasp and sobs had just heightened his feeling of desperation.
"We have to protect the family," he informed her, his voice steady despite the commotion all around them. "No one can know about this."
Adaora had been hesitant at first, but he had persuaded her. He said that it was for the greater benefit. They couldn't allow a moment of carelessness to demolish what they'd accomplished.
They had buried Nneka in the garden, behind an ancient oak tree. The box had been stashed away, its contents confined to the mansion's darkest corners—and their memories.
Years later, the secrets they had buried seemed to be making their way back to the surface. Tayo's presence in the home disturbed him. She was too interested and watchful. And then there was Chidi, who was always observing and listening.
Dapo reclined back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. He had expected time to smooth the edges of his guilt, but it had not. If anything, it sharpened them. He attempted to go on, but the past seemed to drag him back.
He wondered whether Adaora felt the same way. She had always been stronger and more stubborn. Even she couldn't deny the heavy, oppressive tension that had descended over the place.
Dapo stood, his attention fixed on the enormous photograph of their family that hung over the fireplace. They looked great in it—him, Adaora, and the kids, all smiling and poised. Of course, Nneka was not in the image. She had been removed from their life, just as they agreed.
But removing her had not removed the guilt. It had not eradicated the truth.
As he turned away, an idea hit him with chilling clarity. If Tayo—or anybody else—discovers the secrets of that night, all they've created will shatter.
And Dapo was not sure he could go through it again.