Chapter Seven – The First Crack
By 9:30 p.m., Zara was pacing her apartment like a trapped bird. The bundle of ₦70,000 sat on her table, a pitiful reminder of how far she was from the demanded half a million.
Every sound outside—the hum of traffic, a neighbor's laughter, even the creak of her own floorboards—made her flinch. The blackmailer's words repeated in her mind like a curse: 10 p.m. Don't keep me waiting.
Her phone vibrated. She lunged for it.
Unknown Number: Location dropped. Bring it. Come alone.
A pin appeared on the screen—an address near the edge of town. Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the phone. Whoever this was, they weren't just bluffing. They wanted her in person.
She considered ignoring it. Maybe it was all empty threats. But then another message flashed.
Unknown Number: Fail me, and tomorrow the world will know how broke their "queen" really is.
Her chest constricted. If even half of her lies leaked, Daniel would leave. Brands would cut her off. Followers would vanish. And Kendra—God, Kendra would make sure the humiliation never died.
At 9:50, Zara slipped into an Uber, clutching the money like a lifeline. The driver tried making small talk, but she barely heard him. Her pulse thundered louder than his voice.
The pin led to an abandoned car park dimly lit by a single flickering streetlamp. The place reeked of damp concrete and danger. Zara's throat went dry as she stepped out, heels clicking against the cracked ground.
"Hello?" she whispered into the shadows. "I—I brought something."
Silence. Then, from the darkness, a figure stepped forward, hood pulled low over their face. Zara's stomach dropped.
"Where's the rest?" the voice demanded, distorted, male.
"This is all I could get!" she pleaded, holding up the envelope. "Please, give me time, I'll get the rest—just don't—"
The man snatched the money, flipping through it quickly before sneering. "Pathetic. You think this is enough? You think your lies are worth only ₦70,000?"
Zara's knees threatened to buckle. "Please… don't expose me. I'll find the rest. I swear."
He leaned closer, his breath hot and bitter. "You have one week. After that, the whole world will see who Zara Martins really is."
And just like that, he vanished into the night, leaving her trembling in the shadows.
When Zara finally stumbled back into the Uber, her phone buzzed with a new message—not from the blackmailer, but from Daniel.
> Daniel: Babe, I need to talk to you tomorrow. It's serious.
Zara squeezed her eyes shut. One week. One chance to save her illusion before everything crumbled.
But Daniel's message gnawed at her. Serious. Was he starting to suspect? Was he about to ask questions she couldn't answer?
For the first time, Zara felt the glittering cage of her fake life truly tightening. The first crack had appeared. And she didn't know if she was strong enough to survive the collapse.