Part 1
The city outside Amara's window was still wrapped in the pale gray of early dawn. The sound of traffic below was distant, almost reluctant, as if the streets themselves were mourning the fracture that had split everything apart. She hadn't slept—her eyes were open through the night, replaying the last words, the last looks, the tremor in Chief Roman's voice before the silence that followed.
Amara sat by the edge of her bed, the faint hum of the air conditioner competing with her heartbeat. The apartment—once her sanctuary—felt like a stage stripped bare after a play. Nothing belonged here anymore. Not the photos on the wall, not the silk sheets, not even the scent of lavender her mother had always loved. Everything smelled like memory and betrayal.
She picked up her phone. Dozens of missed calls. Messages from names that used to mean safety. She scrolled past them, pausing only when she saw Chuka's name. No message. No missed call. Just his name—like a wound left open.
A quiet anger rippled through her chest. He should have called.
But deep down, she knew he couldn't. Not after what she had done. Not after what her father had done.
Her thoughts drifted back to the night of the confrontation—the shouting, the look in Chief Roman's eyes, the realization that the empire he'd built was cracking from within. The fracture hadn't just broken their family—it had split her sense of belonging. For the first time, Amara wasn't sure if she was a Roman by loyalty or by curse.
A knock echoed through the room.
Soft. Hesitant.
She froze.
It wasn't the housekeeper's usual rhythm.
Another knock—firmer this time.
Amara rose slowly, every step echoing louder in her chest than on the marble floor. When she opened the door, the hallway light flooded in, framing the figure standing before her.
It was Nina, her father's personal assistant—eyes red, hair undone, holding a sealed brown envelope.
"Your father said to give you this," Nina whispered, her voice trembling. "Before… before everything changed."
Amara took the envelope, her pulse quickening. Inside was a single key, heavy and cold, taped to a folded piece of paper.
She unfolded it, her breath catching at the handwritten note:
> "When you find the truth, don't run from it. Follow it."
— R.
She looked up, but Nina was already walking away down the corridor.
Amara shut the door and turned the key over in her palm. It was old, metallic, carved with symbols she didn't recognize—but something about it felt familiar.
Her father had hidden something. And for the first time in her life, Amara Roman was ready to uncover it—not as a daughter, not as an heiress, but as someone who needed answers or else her doubts would eat her alive from the inside.
She slipped the key into her necklace chain, her eyes burning with resolve.
Whatever had fractured them was not the end—it was only the beginning on her journey to find the truth.
---
By the next evening, Amara was airborne—headed for Jos, Nigeria.
Her father's old projects were scattered across continents, but one name stood out from his notes: Rim Village, on the outskirts of Jos Plateau—the same area where Chuka Nwankwo had unearthed the mysterious Nok relics years ago.
The flight felt longer than it was. Every cloud below her seemed to mirror the fog inside her mind. When she landed in Abuja and connected to a smaller flight into Jos, the air changed—it was cooler, thinner, and smelled faintly of red earth and rain.
Now the question that hung unanswered and yet unable to be ignored....
Was she ready to face the truth that she was looking for and would it ruin all the faith she had placed in her father and make her see him in a completely different light ???