HERMIONE
Location: Unknown — Abuja, Nigeria
The first thing I notice is the cold.
Not the kind that seeps from air conditioning — this cold is still, stagnant, and clings to the floor like damp stone. My head throbs as I blink into low, yellow light. The room smells faintly of old perfume and mothballs, like someone tried to preserve time and failed.
I sit up slowly.
Velvet curtains cover the windows. There's a vanity in one corner, a tray of untouched food beside a chair too elegant for this space. The door is locked. No guards. No sound.
I remember falling asleep at the villa…
Dylan's warmth, his kiss, the safety of his arms.
And now I'm here.
Panic begins to rise, but I crush it. I've been taught better than to scream into silence. My body scans for injury — just a sore neck. No bruises. No pain.
Then the door opens.
And she walks in.
"I was hoping you'd wake soon," she says softly.
My breath leaves my lungs in one hard rush.
"Isabelle?"
But something is wrong.
Her eyes… they're different. Wary. Wild. And there's a stillness in her posture that isn't my best friend's — it's something colder, older.
Or maybe it's always been there. And I just never saw it.
I rise to my feet. "What is this? Where am I? What are you doing?"
She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "You always ask the wrong questions, Hermione. The real question is — how didn't you know?"
I step back instinctively. "Know what?"
"That I'm Niah."
The name slams into me like a truck. My knees buckle, and I reach for the bedpost to steady myself.
"No… no. That's not possible. Isabelle, Niah was—"
"Left behind." She cuts me off. "Thrown away. Forgotten. Replaced. By you."
She takes a step forward. "They were supposed to adopt me, Hermione. Your parents. My parents. I was already packed. Already waiting. And then… they saw a pregnant teenager outside. And just like that, I was nothing again."
I'm shaking. "I didn't choose any of that—"
"But you benefited from it," she snaps. "You got the life. The love. The degree. The job. The man."
Her voice softens, terrifyingly calm. "I would've taken any one of those. But you? You got it all. And then Dylan… oh, Dylan." She sighs. "He never looked at me. Not once. Even when I was standing right beside you."
"This is insane."
"Is it?" she whispers. "I waited years for you to let your guard down. For the perfect moment. And you gave it to me — flying into my home like a lamb into the lion's mouth."
I force myself to breathe. "Dylan will find me. And when he does—"
"Oh, I want him to find you," she purrs. "But I want him to suffer first. To wonder what he missed. To realize the danger was beside you the whole time. That the girl he called 'friend' is the one who knows how to hurt you best."
She leans closer. "Tell me, Hermione. When he looks at you next… will you still trust him to keep you safe?"
She turns and leaves before I can answer.
The door locks behind her.
And the silence returns — heavier this time.
But beneath the fear… a fire sparks in my chest.
She wants me to be broken.
She has no idea who she's dealing with.