CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
“No way out.”
Marcus snatched the phone from Malik's hand.
The call had already ended.
"Can you trace it?" Malik asked.
Marcus was already dialling another number.
"Get the cyber team online now."
He paced the pavement outside Lena's apartment building.
"I don't care how."
"I want every CCTV camera within a five-mile radius pulled."
He ended the call and looked back at Malik.
"If that was Devon—"
"It was him."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
Marcus studied him.
"You recognised the voice?"
"No."
Malik looked back at the apartment building.
"I recognised the message."
Detective Alvarez approached them, her notebook tucked beneath one arm.
"I've just spoken with Lena's neighbours."
"What did they say?" Malik asked.
"One heard shouting."
"Another heard a car leave just after midnight."
She paused.
"But one neighbour saw something else."
"What?"
"A man."
Marcus immediately stepped forward.
"Can they identify him?"
"No."
"He wore a baseball cap and kept his head down."
She hesitated.
"But..."
"He wasn't alone."
Malik felt his stomach tighten.
"There was a woman with him."
Across Brooklyn, Zara couldn't sleep.
Miss Claudette had fallen asleep in the armchair.
Naomi was curled up beneath a blanket on the other sofa.
The apartment was silent except for the ticking of the clock.
Zara wandered into the kitchen.
She opened the cupboard to make tea.
Her eyes landed on the handwritten note Malik had left weeks earlier.
For whenever you're ready.
She smiled sadly.
Only a month ago...
Moving in together had felt like the beginning of everything.
Now...
It felt like the calm before something she couldn't yet see.
Her phone buzzed.
A text message.
Unknown Number.
Ask him about Atlanta.
Nothing else.
No explanation.
No name.
Just five words.
Her heart began to race.
Atlanta?
Malik had never mentioned Atlanta.
She read the message again.
Then a third time.
Before she could think, another message arrived.
Everyone has secrets, Zara.
The question is how long they've been hiding them.
She stared at the screen.
Then, without replying, she blocked the number.
But the words stayed with her.
At six o'clock the following morning, Malik finally returned home.
He looked exhausted.
His shirt was creased.
Dark circles framed his eyes.
The moment Zara saw him, she walked straight into his arms.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
"I'm glad you're home," she whispered.
He kissed the top of her head.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For all of this."
She pulled back slightly.
"Did they find her?"
He shook his head.
"No."
"They're still searching."
She nodded.
Then remembered the message.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
She looked at him carefully.
"Have you ever lived in Atlanta?"
For the first time since he'd walked through the door...
Malik froze.
It lasted less than a second.
But Zara saw it.
"A long time ago."
His voice was quieter now.
"Before New York."
"You've never mentioned it."
"There wasn't much to mention."
She held his gaze.
"Who texted you?"
"No one."
"I got a message."
His expression changed.
"What message?"
She handed him her phone.
He read the words.
His jaw tightened.
"When did this come?"
"About an hour ago."
Marcus, who had stayed behind to update security, looked over Malik's shoulder.
"That's not random."
"No," Malik replied.
"It isn't."
Zara folded her arms.
"So..."
She looked between them.
"Who's in Atlanta?"
Silence.
Marcus glanced at Malik.
Malik looked away.
Finally, he spoke.
"My father."
The room fell still.
"You've never told me about your father," Zara said quietly.
"I know."
"You've talked about your mother."
"Your sister."
"Foundation House."
"Prison."
"But never him."
Malik rubbed both hands over his face.
"Because I haven't spoken to him in almost fifteen years."
"Why?"
"He chose his empire over his family."
"He taught me that power mattered more than people."
His voice hardened.
"I became exactly like him."
Zara stepped closer.
"And then?"
"My mother left."
"Keisha left with her."
"I stayed."
His eyes filled with regret.
"I spent years trying to earn a man’s approval who barely remembered my birthday."
No one spoke.
"I thought prison would make him visit."
A bitter laugh escaped him.
"He never came."
Zara reached for his hand.
"You don't have to carry that by yourself anymore."
He squeezed her fingers.
"I know."
But deep down...
He wondered whether the past he'd hidden had just become another weapon in Devon's hands.
Across the city, Devon stood in an abandoned warehouse overlooking the East River.
One of his associates approached.
"The message was delivered."
"And?"
"She asked about Atlanta."
A slow smile spread across Devon's face.
"Good."
The associate frowned.
"I don't understand."
"You will."
Devon walked to an old wooden table covered in photographs.
Most were of Malik.
Some were of Zara.
One was decades old.
A young Malik stood beside a sharply dressed man outside a luxury hotel.
On the back of the photograph were the words:
Carter Legacy Gala – Atlanta, Georgia
Devon picked it up carefully.
"You can't destroy someone's future..."
"...until you understand the past they worked so hard to bury."
He looked toward the warehouse entrance.
"Bring me the second file."
The associate disappeared into another room before returning with a thick brown envelope.
Across the front, in faded black ink, were two names.
Malik CarterLena Matthews
Devon smiled as he untied the string.
"This..."
"...is where the real story begins."
End of Chapter Forty-Four