The next morning, the air in Lekki was heavy with the promise of rain. The sky was a muted grey, the ocean a restless, churning canvas of dark blue. Ifeyinwa drove with a sense of purpose, a feeling she hadn't had since the day before. The familiar anxiety had been replaced with a cold, hard resolve. She was no longer just waiting for answers; she was going to get them.
The Lagoon's Brew was a small, unassuming place with an outdoor patio that overlooked the water. The smell of roasted coffee beans and salty air hung in the atmosphere. The place was a quiet sanctuary from the city's frantic energy, the perfect spot for a secret meeting. Ifeyinwa found a table at the back, away from the handful of other customers, and waited.
Nnenna was a woman of presence. She arrived a few minutes late, walking with a confident stride that was at odds with the cautious tone of her voice on the phone. She was taller than Ifeyinwa had remembered, with a sharp, intelligent face and eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. She was dressed simply, in a dark t-shirt and jeans, but she carried herself with the authority of someone who knew the city's secrets.
"Ifeyinwa," Nnenna said, her voice clear and steady as she sat down. She didn't offer a hug or a handshake. She simply looked at her niece, her gaze a silent question. "You look like your mother, but your eyes have a familiar look. You have the gift." It was not a question. It was a statement of fact, an immediate breaking of the silence that had separated their family for so long.
Ifeyinwa felt a tremor run through her. "Yes," she whispered, the single word a confession. "I do."
Nnenna nodded, her expression grim. "My mother... she always said you had a sensitive ear. That you were the first to hear the whispers of the past." Her voice was soft now, a memory in itself. "She tried to protect you. She tried to make it go away." Nnenna leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "You know what the truth is, Ifeyinwa. You can hear it. So tell me. What did you hear that day?"
Ifeyinwa recounted the events from her mother's account, the fragmented whispers, and the lie she had to tell. She spoke of the newspaper clipping, of Nonso's pain, and of her own confusion and guilt. She didn't hold anything back. She felt a strange sense of catharsis, as if the burden of the secret was finally being lifted from her shoulders.
When she was finished, Nnenna leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed, as if she were listening to the echoes herself. "I see," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Adaora told you what she had to. She told you a small lie to protect you from the big one. She saved you, Ifeyinwa. But she left you with the weight of an untruth."
She opened her eyes and looked directly at Ifeyinwa, her gaze unwavering. "The Omololu family," she began, her voice low and dangerous, "was in the business of construction. Just like your father. But their business wasn't just about buildings. It was about stealing from the city. They were building shoddy roads, using cheap materials, and pocketing the profits. They had paid off politicians and contractors, and they were untouchable. Until a young, ambitious journalist named Chidi found a paper trail. Chidi was Nonso's brother."
Ifeyinwa's heart pounded in her chest. She had heard of Chidi. He was a promising young reporter who had disappeared years ago. The official story was that he had a mental breakdown after a fight with his family. A lie her mother had encouraged her to believe.
"He had a source," Nnenna continued, her voice gaining momentum. "A former accountant for the Omololus. A man who had copies of all their books. But the man was afraid. He would only meet Chidi at night, in secret. The night of the supposed 'accident,' Chidi was with that man. They were walking near the river, near a construction site owned by the Omololus. A truck came out of nowhere. It hit the accountant first. Then it hit Chidi."
The echoes, which had been a low hum, now roared in Ifeyinwa's head. She saw it all. The flash of headlights. The sickening sound of impact. The silent, cold panic of the driver. It was a violent, brutal hum, a cacophony of fear and desperation.
"Chidi was not pushed," Nnenna said, the words a hammer blow. "He was hit. On purpose. The driver was an employee of the Omololu family. The accountant, who was also hit, survived, but he was left with severe brain damage. He was a key witness, and he was no longer a threat."
A new wave of nausea washed over Ifeyinwa. It was all a lie. Nonso's brother was not a victim of a family quarrel, but of a calculated murder. And her family had been made to cover it up. The echoes, for so long a source of dread and discomfort, now felt like a responsibility. She had a new kind of duty. To listen, and to speak.
"What about the lie?" Ifeyinwa asked, her voice raspy. "My mother said the Omololus found out about the gift. That they were going to ruin my father's business."
Nnenna nodded, a wry smile on her lips. "They did. They had people everywhere. They had someone on your father's payroll. They found out about your 'gift.' And they saw an opportunity. Your family's business was in debt. They went to your mother. They said they would expose your father's business and ruin his reputation. But they offered a deal. Your mother had to lie and say that she saw you, a young girl, near the river, and that you heard a boy screaming that his friend had been pushed. The Omololus planted the boy's story in the newspaper as a fake headline and it became the official narrative. It gave them a reason to close the case. Your father's business would be safe, and your family would be left alone."
Ifeyinwa's mind reeled. It was all a twisted game of power and deceit. The Omololus hadn't just gotten away with murder; they had used her family's weakness to solidify their power. Her gift, a thing she had always seen as a personal curse, had been turned into a weapon against an innocent family.
"After the deal was done," Nnenna continued, her voice soft now, "I tried to expose them. I had the facts, the evidence, but no one would touch the story. The Omololus have too many friends in high places. They put pressure on my editors. They threatened my life. I had to let it go. I had to disappear for a while. I changed my name, I worked under an assumed name, and I've been living in the shadows ever since, looking for a way to expose them again."
She reached across the table and placed her hand over Ifeyinwa's. "You have what they can't take away from you. The gift. The echoes. The truth. You are the only one who can expose them now. You can hear their secrets. They can try to silence you, but they can't erase what you know. This is your fight now, Ifeyinwa. It has always been your fight."
Ifeyinwa sat there, the weight of the truth settling over her like a heavy blanket. The echoes of the past were no longer just a constant hum; they were a roadmap, a guide to a truth that was buried deep within the city's foundations. She had always wanted to build a city of the future. Now, she realized, she had to confront the past first. She had to unearth the lies and expose the monsters hiding in the shadows. The city's ghosts were her allies, and she was ready to listen.