Sandra's hands trembled as she stared at the message. The glow of her phone screen made the shadows in the night look deeper, darker. James stepped closer, concern already etched into his brow.
"Another one?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
She didn't answer. Just turned the phone toward him.
The same men. Her father. Victor. Standing in front of the J&M Holdings building like they owned it. Smiling.
The message below the photo read: "Next move is yours, Sandra."
James's face tightened, his jaw locking into a hard line. "He's toying with you now."
Sandra couldn't breathe for a moment. The cold air of Mbale didn't help. Her chest ached, not from panic—but from betrayal.
"What does he want?" she whispered.
James took a deep breath. "Victor wants to break you. Mentally. Emotionally. He's not just after J&M. He's using everything personal against you."
Her voice was strained. "And my father…?"
"Either he's being manipulated—or he's part of the manipulation."
Sandra stepped back from James. "I need to think."
"We'll figure this out. Together," he said firmly.
"No," she snapped, surprising both of them. "I need to figure this out for myself. For once."
She turned, walking toward the compound gate. James didn't stop her. Not this time.
---
That night, Sandra couldn't sleep. She sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room, staring at the phone screen, replaying the image in her head. Her father had looked too comfortable. That smile hadn't been forced. And Victor? Victor always smiled when he had the upper hand.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.
James's voice followed. "Tea?"
She hesitated, then opened the door.
They sat outside under the stars again, two cups between them. The silence stretched until James finally spoke.
"I've seen this before. Victor did something similar to a competitor once. In Singapore. He went after the man's daughter. Turned her against him. The company crumbled in months."
Sandra looked at him sharply. "And you didn't stop him?"
"I wasn't CEO then. I was just another executive. I didn't have the power. But now, I do."
They sat in silence again.
Sandra finally asked, "Do you think my father regrets leaving?"
James considered it. "Regret is easy. Redemption takes effort."
"And what if he doesn't want redemption?"
"Then you owe him nothing."
---
The next morning, Sandra received a call. The number was hidden. She hesitated, then answered.
"Hello?"
"Sandra."
Her blood turned cold.
"Dad."
"We need to talk. In person. It's not what it looks like."
She said nothing.
"There are things you don't know. Things Victor promised. I thought—"
She cut him off. "You thought selling me out would bring you back into my life?"
A pause. Then, "2 p.m. Café Mbale. Come, please."
The line went dead.
---
At 2 p.m., she sat across from her father at a quiet café tucked behind a petrol station. It smelled of coffee and denial.
He looked older now. Greyer. But the charm was still there. The same charm that had won over her mother, and left her family in ruins.
"I'm not here to beg," he said.
"Then why are you here?"
"To explain. Victor came to me. Said he could help clear your name. Said James was dangerous."
She narrowed her eyes. "And you believed him?"
"I didn't know what to believe. But I wanted a way back into your life. I thought… maybe this was it."
Sandra leaned back. "Let me be clear. You can't re-enter my life by destroying it."
David looked pained. "I didn't know it would go this far."
She stood. "That's what you always say—after the damage is done."
He reached for her wrist, but she pulled away.
"I came here for closure, not comfort. Goodbye, Dad."
---
Meanwhile, James was back in Kampala, staring at the J&M security footage. He'd dispatched a private tech team to trace the origin of the photos.
The result came in.
A burner phone. Traced to a warehouse in Industrial Area. Leased under a fake company name—connected to Victor.
"Get me full surveillance," James ordered.
"Already in motion," the head of security replied. "But there's more—Sandra's cousin Immy has also been in contact with Victor."
James froze. "What kind of contact?"
"Encrypted chats. A meeting logged two nights ago. And a bank transaction."
James clenched his fists.
---
Immy sat in her apartment, staring at her phone. Another message from Victor. Another transfer. But something felt off now. Ever since she'd seen that photo of Sandra's father, she'd been wondering: who was really playing whom?
Her phone buzzed again.
> "Tonight. Rooftop bar. No excuses."
Immy sighed.
"God help me."
---
Back in Sandra's room, she collapsed onto the bed. The emotional toll was becoming unbearable. She just wanted peace.
She didn't hear James enter. He sat beside her quietly, placing a paper bag on the nightstand.
"Local fried cassava," he said. "Thought you might eat something."
She looked at him. "I'm not hungry."
"You need strength. Victor's not done."
She sat up slowly. "What do we do?"
James pulled out a file. "We counter. We expose. We destroy from within."
Sandra nodded, though doubt lingered in her eyes. "What if I can't?"
James looked her dead in the eye. "Then I will."
She looked down. Her fingers brushed against her phone.
Another notification.
Another message.
No photo this time.
Just a name: Ezra.
Sandra's entire body went still.
James noticed. "Who's Ezra?"
Her voice was barely audible. "My first love. My almost. My mistake."
James's gaze sharpened. "Victor found him?"
She nodded slowly. "He's not done with me. He's just started."
---
That night, in a dimly lit office above the city, Victor stood with his back to the window.
He was on the phone.
"Tell Ezra she's back. And she's vulnerable."
A pause.
"And if he hesitates, remind him what he lost."
He ended the call.
Then turned to the shadows, where a man stepped forward. Tall, lean, with eyes full of buried history.
"Ready?" Victor asked.
The man nodded. "I've been waiting ten years for this."
Victor smirked. "Then let's give her a reason to remember."