Mariaa

The morning sun streamed through the curtains of Maria's bedroom, casting long, golden streaks across her pristine white sheets. She sat at her vanity, applying a subtle layer of makeup, her movements deliberate and precise. To the world, she was the perfect picture of composure, an intelligent, successful woman with a heart of gold. But Maria knew better. She wasn't just Maria anymore. She was something else entirely.

She had spent the night meticulously cleaning every trace of Richard from her life. The storeroom where his body lay locked and hidden was her secret, one she had no intention of sharing. As she leaned closer to the mirror, her reflection stared back at her, unyielding and confident.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and saw her mother's name flashing. With a sigh, she picked up the call.

"Good morning, Mama," Maria said, her voice warm and cheerful.

"Maria, my dear! How are you? You didn't call last night," her mother's voice chided gently. "You know I worry about you."

"I'm fine, Mama. Just a bit tired from work. How is Papa?"

"He's fine, but you know his blood pressure. He's been asking when you'll visit. You know how much he misses you."

Maria forced a laugh. "I'll visit soon, I promise."

After a few more minutes of pleasantries, she ended the call. Her parents, oblivious to the storm raging within her, still believed she was their sweet, innocent daughter. And she intended to keep it that way.

By the time she left her house, the city of Lagos was already bustling with life. The streets were filled with the sound of honking cars, street vendors shouting their wares, and the ever-present hum of humanity. Maria's destination was a small café tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was her sanctuary, a place where she could think and plan without interruption.

She ordered a cup of tea and sat by the window, her eyes scanning the crowd outside. Her mind wandered to the night before. The image of Richard's lifeless body replayed in her head, but instead of fear or regret, she felt a strange satisfaction. For the first time in her life, she wasn't a victim. She had taken control in a way no one could imagine. She was free, unburdened by the weight of his abuse. And now, a new thought crept into her mind, a thought that thrilled and terrified her in equal measure.

What if this wasn't the end?

Maria sipped her tea, savoring the warmth as it slid down her throat. Her fingers traced the edge of the cup absentmindedly. The café bustled around her, yet she was lost in her thoughts. Her eyes lingered on the faces of the men passing by the window, businessmen in crisp suits, street hawkers shouting for attention, young men on motorcycles weaving through traffic.

Each one of them had their own story, their own secrets. She wondered, with a faint smile, how many of them would deserve the same fate as Richard.

"Excuse me, miss," a voice interrupted her thoughts.

Maria blinked and looked up to see a waiter standing beside her table. He held out a small brown envelope.

"This was dropped off for you," he said.

"For me?" she asked, frowning.

"Yes, a man came in earlier and asked me to give it to the lady sitting here."

Maria took the envelope, her fingers brushing against its rough surface. The waiter walked away, leaving her to her curiosity. She turned it over, noting there was no name or writing on it. Carefully, she opened it and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

The message was simple, written in neat, block letters: "I KNOW WHAT YOU DID."

Maria's breath hitched, and her pulse quickened. Her eyes darted around the café, searching for anyone watching her. But the patrons were engrossed in their meals and conversations. No one seemed out of place.

She folded the note and slipped it back into the envelope, her mind racing. Was it a prank? A coincidence? Or had someone truly seen her last night?

She forced herself to remain calm, her face betraying nothing. She finished her tea, left some money on the table, and walked out of the café. The streets of Lagos swallowed her up as she disappeared into the crowd.

Back at her house, Maria locked the door and leaned against it, the envelope clutched tightly in her hand. She unfolded the note again and stared at the words.

Who could it be?

Her mind replayed every detail of the night before the storm, Richard's resistance, the cleanup. She had been careful, meticulous. No one could have seen her.

Could they?

She opened her laptop and began searching for the news. No reports of Richard's disappearance. No suspicious activity near her house. Everything was normal for now.

Maria closed the laptop and stood up. She couldn't let fear paralyze her. Whoever sent the note wanted to scare her, and she couldn't afford to show weakness.

She moved to the storeroom where Richard's body lay. The air inside was heavy, carrying the faint metallic scent of blood despite her efforts to mask it. She unwrapped the plastic just enough to look at his lifeless face.

"Did you tell someone?" she whispered, her voice dripping with venom.

His lifeless eyes offered no answers.

Maria rewrapped the body and stepped back, her mind calculating her next move. She needed to dispose of him, and soon. Lagos was a vast, chaotic city where things disappear all the time. She just had to find the right place, the right moment.

But first, she had to find out who had sent that note.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and Maria slipped out of her house, blending into the shadows. She made her way to Richard's apartment, a small, dingy flat in a part of town her family rarely visited. She let herself in using the spare key she had taken from him months ago.

The apartment was exactly as she remembered messy, reeking of stale beer and sweat. She moved quickly, searching through his belongings for any clues.

In a drawer, she found a notebook filled with names, phone numbers, and notes. Most were business contacts, but a few entries caught her eye. They were women's names, accompanied by crude descriptions.

Maria's stomach turned as she read the entries. Richard had been more monstrous than she had imagined. "Disgusting," she muttered, tossing the notebook aside.

She searched deeper, looking for anything that might explain the note she received. Her fingers brushed against a small, black USB drive hidden under a pile of papers. She pocketed it and left the apartment, her heart beating.

Back home, Maria plugged the USB drive into her laptop. The screen is filled with folders labeled by dates. She opened one, and her breath caught in her throat.

Videos. Dozens of them.

Each one was labeled with a woman's name and a date. Maria hesitated, her finger hovering over the mouse. Finally, she clicked on one.

The video began to play, and Maria's stomach churned. It was Richard, smiling into the camera before turning it toward a terrified young woman.

She slammed the laptop shut, her chest heaving.

This was worse than she had imagined. Richard had been recording his crimes, documenting his depravity. And now, someone knew what she had done.

Maria stared at the closed laptop, her mind racing. Whoever had sent her the note might be connected to Richard's crimes. They might have seen the videos.

And if they had, they weren't just a threat to her they were a threat to her entire family.

Maria stood, her resolve hardening. She wouldn't let anyone ruin the life she had rebuilt for herself.

Whoever sent the note had made a mistake.

And they would regret it.