Chapter 17: Daddy’s Dirty Deals

 

Zinhle felt like her world was crumbling around her. Her father, the man she had looked up to her whole life, was now a criminal in the eyes of the public. Her thoughts kept spinning every memory now felt different. The way he always answered phone calls in private, the closed-door meetings in their home office, the random deposits into her account without explanation. She used to think it was just how rich people handled things. Now she realized it was all part of something dirty. Something illegal. The news report kept replaying in her head. Words like “fraud,” “corruption,” and “money laundering” echoed in her ears. And her father's face shown briefly on screen as he walked into the back of a black SUV was burned into her mind. He looked calm, but she could see the tension in his eyes. He knew. He must have known this day would come. Her phone buzzed again. More messages. This time from people she barely knew. Former classmates. Social media followers. Some were shocked. Others were cruel. “So that’s how y’all afforded Gucci?” “Guess dirty money buys nice things.” “Your dad’s a thief, just like the rest of them.” Zinhle turned her phone off. She couldn’t take it anymore. She walked to the kitchen and stood in the doorway. Her mother sat at the table with her head in her hands, sobbing quietly. The house was too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you feel like you’re not safe. Like something bad is still coming. Her father hadn’t said a word to her after the police left. He had gone straight to his study and locked the door.

Zinhle wanted to scream at him. Ask him why. Why he had lied. Why he had dragged their whole family into this. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Her mouth felt glued shut by shame. Back in her room, she stared at the funeral pamphlet still lying on her desk. Someone knew. Someone was doing this on purpose. They weren’t just digging up the past they were tearing down everything around them, brick by brick. First the creepy mirror message. Then the fake death pamphlets. Now her father’s crimes were on national television. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Zinhle looked at the group chat again. Bonolo had just sent a message: “We need to meet. Tonight.” Kea added: “We’re being targeted. Whoever this is they know too much.” Zinhle typed back with shaking fingers: “I’ll be there.” She took one last look at the news still playing on mute in the background. Her father’s face flashed on screen again. This time, she didn’t feel pride. She felt fear. Because if the person behind all this could bring down her father…