Chapter 9 Lines in the sand

The next morning, Cynthia-Rose woke up with a strange feeling in her chest. Not fear exactly. Not peace either. Something in between. Like she was standing on soft sand, unsure which step would sink.

Her phone buzzed before she even sat up.

A message from an unknown number.

BE CAREFUL WHO YOU TRUST IN THAT HOUSE.

Her heart skipped.

She read it again.

No name, no display picture. Just the words.

For a moment, she considered ignoring it. Lagos was full of mischief-makers. But there was something about the timing. Why after the dinner, after Kunle's warning?

Another message came.

YOU DON'T KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM.

She swallowed.

Before she could reply, the message disappeared.

Deleted.

Her chest tightened.

She got out of bed slowly and walked to the balcony. The morning sun was bright over Ikoyi, but she didn't feel light. She felt watched.

Downstairs, the house was already active. Staff moving quietly. The smell of coffee. Controlled normalcy.

Fredrick was in his study when she found him. The door was slightly open. He was on the phone.

"...I don't care what they publish" he was saying calmly. "Just make sure the source is identified."

She knocked lightly before stepping in. He ended the call immediately.

"Good morning" he said. She didn't smile. "Do you monitor my phone?"

His expression didn't change. "No."

"Does anyone in this house?"

"No."

She stepped inside fully. "I got a message."

He watched her carefully.

"From?"

"Unknown number. Warning me."

"About?"

"You."

A small pause.

"What did it say?"

"That I don't know everything about you."

He leaned back in his chair, studying her face. "That's true."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You don't know everything about me" he repeated calmly. "No one does."

Frustration rose in her chest. "This isn't funny."

"I'm not laughing."

She stepped closer. "Are you hiding something that could hurt me?"

His eyes sharpened slightly. "Cynthia."

"Answer me."

He stood slowly. The air in the room shifted. "I have enemies" he said. "Real ones. This are people who would rather see me destroyed than successful."

"That's not what I asked."

He walked around the desk and stopped in front of her. Not touching. Just close enough for his presence to feel heavy.

"You asked if I am hiding something that could hurt you" he said quietly. "The answer is this, my world is not clean. It is powerful. There is a difference."

Her throat felt dry. "And what does that mean for me?"

"It means you must be careful who approaches you" he replied. "It means not every friendly smile is harmless." She held his gaze.

"Including yours?"

For the first time, something flickered in his expression, not anger, not amusement. Something almost wounded.

"If you truly believe I am your enemy" he said softly, "then you should not be here."

Silence stretched between them.

She looked away first. "I don't think you're my enemy." she admitted. "I just don't know if I'm protected or positioned."

That made him pause.

"Explain."

She exhaled slowly. "Sometimes it feels like you're shielding me. Other times, it feels like I'm part of your strategy."

He didn't answer immediately. And that silence told her more than words. Before either of them could speak again, one of the staff knocked hurriedly.

"Sir... there's a situation."

Fredrick's tone shifted instantly. "What happened?"

"Someone is at the gate. Refusing to leave."

Cynthia's stomach tightened.

"Who?" Fredrick asked. The staff hesitated.

"A woman." The word landed heavily.

Fredrick's jaw hardened slightly. "Name?"

"She says her name is Amara."

Cynthia felt the air leave her lungs.

Fredrick did not react outwardly, but she noticed the small shift in his shoulders.

"Handle it." he said calmly.

"She insists on seeing madam." Now the room felt smaller.

"Me?" Cynthia asked quietly.

The staff nodded. Fredrick looked at her carefully. "You don't have to."

Cynthia's pride flared. "I want to."

He studied her for a moment, then nodded once. "Fine. But I will be there."

Outside, near the gate, a woman stood in a fitted red dress, sunglasses covering her eyes. She looked composed and confident. Like she had every right to be there.

When she saw them approaching, she removed the sunglasses slowly. She was beautiful.

Older than Cynthia-Rose, but not so much.

"So" the woman said with a small smile, "this is her."

Cynthia held her ground. "Excuse me?"

Amara's gaze moved over her slowly, assessing. "I just wanted to see the face behind the headlines."

Fredrick's voice was calm but firm. "Amara, this is inappropriate."

She ignored him. Her eyes remained on Cynthia. "You look innocent," Amara said. "That's good. It means you still believe what he tells you."

Cynthia's fingers curled slightly at her sides. "And what exactly should I not believe?"

Amara smiled faintly. "That you're the first."

Silence.

Fredrick's tone sharpened. "Enough."

But Cynthia spoke before he could say more. "Are you his ex?" she asked directly.

Amara laughed softly. "Ex is a simple word."

"Then what are you?"

The woman tilted her head. "History."

The word settled like dust.

Cynthia forced her voice steady. "History is past."

"Is it?" Amara replied calmly. "Ask him."

Fredrick stepped forward slightly. "You've made your point."

Amara's eyes flickered to him. "Have I?"

She looked back at Cynthia one last time. "Just remember" she said quietly, "men like him don't choose out of emotion. They choose out of timing."

With that, she turned and walked toward her car. Cynthia stood frozen. Fredrick dismissed the guards with a gesture and turned to her.

"She enjoys drama." he said evenly.

Cynthia looked at him slowly. "Was she lying?"

"No."

Her heart tightened.

"She was not lying about being history." he clarified.

"But?"

"But history remains history."

Cynthia searched his face. "Did you love her?"

He paused.

"That is not relevant." he said finally.

Her eyes hardened slightly. "It is to me."

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then he spoke quietly. "I do not repeat chapters."

She didn't know whether that was reassurance or warning. As they walked back inside, Cynthia felt something new settle inside her.

Not jealousy. Not fear.

But awareness.

She was not entering an empty life. She was stepping into a story that had already been written in parts.

And now, she had to decide whether she was the next chapter...

Or just another page.