Chapter 2 - The Contract Never Ended
"THAT SYMBOL BELONGS TO THE PEOPLE WHO HIRED ME!"
My voice was louder than I intended.
Nango looked up from the photograph.
"What people?"
I swallowed.
"The organization that arranged the original contract."
Aunt Zanele's expression changed.
For the first time since entering my house, she looked genuinely frightened.
"Are you saying someone is still trying to kill her?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth was worse.
The first assignment should have ended the moment I refused to carry it out.
Once a client withdrew a contract or the intermediary closed the file, there was supposed to be nothing left to discuss.
But the symbol on that photograph meant the assignment was active.
Someone wanted another attempt.
And whoever arranged it knew exactly where Nango worked.
I picked up the photograph.
"Did the envelope contain anything else?"
Zanele shook her head.
"No return address. No message except that."
"Why didn't you call the police?"
"I didn't know whether it was real."
She hesitated.
"And your reputation made me wonder whether you had sent it yourself."
Nango stood abruptly.
"Enough."
Her aunt turned toward her.
"Nango—"
"No. You've accused him since you arrived, and you haven't even asked me what I want."
Zanele's eyes filled with concern.
"I am asking now."
Nango moved closer to me.
"I love Sbu. Nobody is forcing me to stay with him."
"But he was hired to kill you."
"I know."
The room went silent.
Zanele stared at her.
"You know?"
"I found out months ago."
"And you're still with him?"
"Yes."
"Sweetheart, that's not normal."
"Neither is discovering that your own mother wanted you dead."
Zanele recoiled.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she slowly lowered herself onto the sofa.
"What did you just say?"
I looked at Nango.
She nodded.
The truth had already destroyed enough lives.
There was no reason to keep protecting the woman who had started it.
"Nomusa hired me," I said.
Zanele shook her head.
"No."
"She arranged the payment through an intermediary. I was supposed to make Nango's death look accidental."
"No. Nomusa told me you threatened her."
"She lied."
Zanele pressed her hand against her mouth.
I could see her trying to reconcile the woman she had known for decades with the person standing at the center of this nightmare.
They had been friends since they were young.
Zanele had attended Nango's birthdays, helped her through school, and stood beside Nomusa at her husband's funeral.
She considered Nango a daughter.
Now she was being told that her closest friend had arranged that daughter's murder.
"Show me proof," she whispered.
I went upstairs and returned with an old phone.
I'd kept it after leaving my former life.
Not because I wanted to remember.
Because I knew I might someday need to answer for what I'd done.
I opened an archived conversation.
Nomusa's number appeared beneath several messages.
One contained a payment confirmation.
Another instructed me to make sure Nango never returned home.
Zanele read everything.
When she finished, her hands were shaking.
"Why didn't you take this to the police?"
"Because I was afraid of what would happen to me."
I forced myself to meet her eyes.
"That's the truth."
Nango looked away.
She'd asked me the same question before.
I'd promised that someday I would stop running from the consequences of my past.
Perhaps that day had finally arrived.
Zanele looked toward the window.
"There's something else."
My chest tightened.
"What?"
"Nomusa asked me to convince Nango to sign some property documents."
Nango frowned.
"What documents?"
"Something involving the housing trust your father established."
Nango's expression changed immediately.
"She knows I won't authorize a sale."
Zanele nodded.
"She said you were being difficult."
"My father built that trust to protect families from losing their homes."
"She claimed the sale would save the organization."
Nango shook her head.
"That's not what the financial reports say."
I looked between them.
"What financial reports?"
Nango took a slow breath.
"Before all this started, I discovered unusual payments from the trust."
"How unusual?"
"Millions of rand."
Zanele stared at her.
"Nango, why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I was trying to find out where the money went."
Suddenly, the pieces began fitting together.
A mother who had hired someone to kill her daughter.
A housing trust worth millions.
A transaction Nango refused to approve.
And now another contract.
My old phone vibrated.
I looked down.
An unknown number had sent a message.
I opened it.
My blood turned cold.
YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE, SBU. THE CLIENT HAS AUTHORIZED A REPLACEMENT. STAY OUT OF THE WAY.
May you like
A second message arrived.
OR WE'LL MAKE SURE YOU WATCH HER DIE.
